Football Card System

The bell rang in the New Year of 2009. On January 3rd, in the third round of the FA Cup, Luton was set to play away against Chelsea.

Early in the morning, Luton's orange team bus slowly departed from the training ground, winding its way through the narrow streets of Luton before merging onto the M1 motorway.

This motorway is the only one passing through Luton, connecting the town with Hertfordshire. Traveling southwest on the M1 leads to the Greater London area.

The scenery outside the window blurred as the bus sped along. Inside, the players occupied their seats, some dozing with their eyes closed, others wearing oversized headphones and listening to music.

At times like these, Gao Bo avoided disturbing the players. He remained seated with his seatbelt fastened, watching the view outside.

"That direction leads to Hertfordshire," said John Aston, pointing out the window as the bus passed an exit.

Gao Bo glanced at John Aston, who appeared pensive. He knew exactly what was on John's mind.

English teams always have their fiercest rivals, and Luton was no exception. For Luton, that rival was Watford, their noisy neighbors in Hertfordshire. The feud between the two clubs is long-standing and hard to trace, but no one denies that Watford is the team most despised by Luton fans.

The rivalry, known as the "M1 Derby," is fueled by proximity, with the M1 motorway connecting Luton and Watford. In addition, Milton Keynes—a team from the same region—was another of Luton's sworn enemies.

However, Watford currently played in the Championship, and Milton Keynes was in League One. Luton, down in League Two, seemed to have lost ground in these regional rivalries.

"John, we won't be in League Two for long," Gao Bo said confidently, his eyes turning to his players. "The Premier League is where these boys belong!"

John wasn't as optimistic. While Luton's team was indeed promising, with core players like Jamie Vardy and N'Golo Kanté only around 20 years old, the professional football landscape had changed. With Abramovich's investment turning Chelsea into a powerhouse and Manchester City also backed by deep pockets, football had become dominated by money.

How long could Luton keep its talented players?

A season? Two, maybe?

John didn't know, but he was certain that if a bigger team waved a check, Luton wouldn't be able to resist. For instance, if someone offered £5 million for Vardy? That amount was five times Luton's annual budget.

But if Gao Bo had heard John's thoughts, he would have scoffed. In another life, Vardy sold for £50 million, and even then, it was considered a loss. In this timeline, though transfer market inflation wasn't as extreme, Vardy's value would surely exceed £20 million in a season or two.

"Gao, can you take Luton to the Premier League?"

John knew that while players like Vardy and Kanté were invaluable, Gao Bo himself was the true catalyst for Luton's rise.

"I'll take the team forward," Gao Bo replied after a pause, offering an ambiguous answer.

"What's the situation at Chelsea lately?" Gao Bo asked Lin Sen, his data analyst.

"You've really angered them, boss," Lin Sen said, shaking his head. He couldn't understand why Gao Bo had gone out of his way to provoke Chelsea before such a challenging match. In his view, it would've been better to lay low.

"Scolari said there's no problem in Chelsea's dressing room and that this match will showcase their best form to start the new year…"

"Deco fired back in the media, claiming you're out of your depth and that provoking Chelsea will come back to bite Luton…"

"Wait—Deco actually said that?" Gao Bo leaned forward excitedly, gripping the armrest of his seat.

"He did…"

Perfect!

Gao Bo was thrilled. His entire plan was to bait Scolari into starting Deco for the match. Scolari, fixated on building his team around Deco, had abandoned Chelsea's traditional defensive-counterattack style. As long as Scolari stuck to this approach, Luton's task would be much easier.

With Kanté on the pitch, Deco would be suffocated.

---

In the morning, the weather was sunny, but as the bus entered West London, the sky darkened, and a light drizzle began.

"This damn weather forecast!" Gao Bo cursed under his breath. Yet inwardly, he hoped for a torrential downpour.

Luton's lineup was no match for Chelsea's in terms of strength. If the weather turned stormy, it could create unpredictable conditions that might help level the playing field.

The game was scheduled for 5 PM. Despite being "just" an FA Cup match against a League Two team, Stamford Bridge was already bustling with Chelsea fans by 3 or 4 PM.

The bus arrived at a nearby hotel at 9 AM, where the players had lunch and rested until early afternoon. At 3:30 PM, the Luton bus rolled into the parking lot at Stamford Bridge.

The players, many of whom were experiencing such a stage for the first time, were awestruck by the massive stadium. Facing a Premier League team—one of England's newly minted giants—was a surreal moment for them.

"So many people…"

"This is Chelsea, the richest team around…"

"Well, not richer than the Abu Dhabi group backing Manchester City!"

"Yeah, those Arabs are loaded…"

"I wish I was that rich…"

"Keep dreaming, Charlie…"

The players chatted nervously as the bus came to a stop in the stadium's restricted parking area.

Gao Bo was the first to step off the bus. There weren't many reporters waiting for Luton; most were focused on Chelsea's arrival.

However, beyond the cordoned-off area, a group of Luton fans in orange jerseys cheered as they spotted their team.

Gao Bo waved to them, prompting an eruption of excitement among the fans.