Duke stepped out on the gates of Selhurst Park, Crystal Palace FC stadium.
The air smelled of fresh paint and cut grass.
Arsène Wenger was already waiting for him, and quietly joined him to walk into the Stadium that also served as Headquarters for the management.
Back when, Duke first bought Crystal Palace this Stadium was under need of repairs.
The state of the stadium needed safety measure improvements, crumbling concrete terraces, muddy standing areas, and outdated amenities.
Of course, they left several stands and toilets designated for away supporters slightly neglected.
In his past life, Crystal Palace was facing such a big financial difficulties in the mid-to-late 1970s.
That the club was forced them to sell off part of the Stadium and its adjacent land to Sainsbury, a supermarket retailer in 1981 just to raise £2 million cause of the crumbling stadium.
Imagine Costco buying a part of Inter Miami, just to get them out of financial issues.
'British people truly never cease to amaze me.'
Despite Sainsbury offering, Duke was actually planning on helping develop this street on his own through agreements with local companies, without affecting the place too much.
Of course for now, it was home of the local community who were great fans and came to support.
Now the stadium held 70.000 seats, making it one of the biggest in Britain with modern seating and family sections.
One of its biggest appeals were clean bathrooms. You know, things most English clubs didn't have.
He kept ticket prices low, 1$-2$ for terrace/standing and 3$-5$ for seating.
Working class people in South London could still afford a match.
Wenger stopped at the railing, looking out at the pitch.
Duke nodded, resting his hands on the cold metal railing next to him.
He remembered the skeptics who laughed when he bought a struggling Third Division club.
Now, financial analysts valued the Crystal Palace enterprise at over 3 million pounds. [
The journey had been a relentless march upward.
They conquered the Third Division, stormed through the Second, and firmly planted their foott in the First Division.
They even made a memorable appearance in the FA Cup final.
Wenger turned his gaze away from the pitch and looked at his new boss.
He needed to bring up the lingering issue that had dominated the back pages of the sports tabloids all week in the local press.
"So about Trapattoni wanting to leave," Wenger stated flatly. "The Italian press says Baresi and Altobelli want to pack their bags and follow him back to Serie A to chase domestic glory."
Duke nodded slowly, showing no surprise.
Italian clubs were flush with television and corporate money, building super-teams that dwarfed typical English financial spending.
"Giovanni has been great for us," Duke replied, he had already talked about this with Trapatonni. "He took us from the Third Division to the First. But managers move on."
Duke had already mapped out the exit strategy with some advisors stepping in.
He would allow the Italian manager to leave, avoiding any messy public disputes that often soured managerial departures in the British sporting press.
Crystal Palace would receive a compensation package from AC Milan for releasing Trapattoni from his contract.
"Tell him he will always have a home here," Duke instructed. "We handle this professionally. As for the players, we will let them go, provided the Italian clubs meet our financial valuations."
The internal math was simple.
Franco Baresi would command a million pounds from AC Milan. Alessandro Altobelli would generate another million from Juventus.
2 millions in profit to reinvest into the club infrastructure.
"We will replace them with academy talent," Duke added, "That is the model, buy low, develop, sell high, and promote from within. And don't engage in bidding wars we cannot sustain."
Wenger smiled, pleased by the mandate.
He gestured for Duke to follow him down the corridor toward the newly constructed training annex.
This was the true engine of the club's long-term future sustainability.
The Crystal Palace Academy.
Duke had modeled it after elite American boarding schools, providing housing, education, and care for talented teenagers recruited from every corner of the United Kingdom and Ireland.
Wenger pulled out a clipboard, tapping a pen against a sheet. "We have gems in the system, Duke."
He listed the top prospects.
Tony Adams, a 15 year-old center-back with natural leadership qualities.
Then there was Ian Wright, an 18 year-old striker plucked from amateur weekend football.
Finally, Wenger pointed to the name Paul Ince.
Wenger stopped and locked eyes with Duke. "Give me five years, Duke. Let me mold these boys. I will win you titles."
"I believe you. That is exactly why I hired you. You have the keys to this now. Build your machine."
Internally, Duke evaluated the timeline.
He knew from his past life that Arsène Wenger possessed the potential to become the greatest manager in British football history.
His track record of building generational squads with little to no resources was unmatched.
Arsène Wenger, the most successful Hall-of-Fame manager in Arsenal F.C. history, creating The "Invincibles" and now he would be working for him.
Duke had managed to hold Trapattoni for an other year, awaiting for Wenger to finish his coaching license.
They continued their walk, exiting the training block and approaching the main concourse near the public entrances.
Duke and Wenger strolled past a club merchandise shop, an idea lifted straight from American sports franchising.
Traditional English football merchandising mostly consisted of cheap scarves and matchday programs sold from cheap stalls.
Duke had introduced a retail space, filled with replica Crystal Palace shirts bearing a prominent Paramount Pictures corporate sponsorship logo.
The synergy extended into pop culture.
Displays featured Daffy Duck wearing a Palace shirt on the cover of a licensed comic book.
Cardboard cutouts of Star Wars characters stood proudly draped in red and blue Palace scarves.
Wenger let out a low chuckle, observing a family purchasing a stack of merchandise. "You have made us the most American team in England. The purists in the press still complain about the commercialism."
"Let them complain," Duke responded. "Even without trying, we are the most recognizable English team in America. That kind of market penetration is worth more than a dozen domestic cups."
The numbers backed up his strategy.
Crystal Palace replica shirts were currently stocked in over 500 retail stores across the United States.
The Logo was becoming a fashionable lifestyle brand among American teenagers and students.
In this kind of regard the most obvious example was League 1 team, Paris Saint-Germain that was very popular in his past life among fashion circles.
They had a Air Jordan Partnership, and celebrities had been spotted on their games, people like Beyonce, Travis Scott, Kanye West or Leonardo DiCaprio.
In a certain way, Crystal Palace FC was trying to follow that model. Specially with Duke's status in Hollywood, it wouldnt be difficult to have celebrities supporting the team.
Furthermore, the club enjoyed subtle product placement in both Ithaca and Paramount films.
That kind of international exposure drove American tourists to include a trip to Selhurst Park on their London vacation itineraries, treating the stadium like a sort of cultural landmark in London.
"Football is a global afffair." Duke explained, gesturing to the cash registers ringing up sales.
The pair walked back out into the crisp morning air, coming to a halt on the center circle of the pitch. The empty stands rose up around them.
Wenger looked up at the towering stands, then back at Duke. "What is the objective, Duke? Beyond the spreadsheets and the retail numbers. What do you actually want from this football club in the end?"
"Titles, Wenger," Duke answered without hesitation, "I want the First Division league title. I want to bring the prestigious titlers to South London."
He stepped closer, emphasizing his point. "I want this club to be mentioned in the same breath as Liverpool and Manchester United. Not just as an underdog."
Wenger took a slow breath, "That takes time. You cannot buy a lasting legacy overnight, even with American money flowing in."
"I have got plenty of time," Duke replied, offering a confident smile. "And more importantly, I got you."
He extended his right hand.
Wenger grasped Duke's hand in a firm grip
___
Duke told the driver to wait by the gate, his breath fogged up as he spoke.
This was something he needed to do alone.
The cemetery was large, but Duke quickly found the Catholic side.
Ancient yew trees casted long shadows across the rows of headstones.
Duke walked slowly, he somewhat regretted bringing Nike shoes, wishing instead for something more official.
He carried a bouquet of white roses as he made his way over.
He found the grave easily enough. He had memorized the location years ago.
Of course, there was also a sign leading the way over for any curious fan.
JOHN R.R. TOLKIEN - Beren
1892-1973
EDITH MARY TOLKIEN - Luthien
1889-1971
The headstone was modest, with a simple introduction and a simple cross in the stone.
The letters were weathered but legible.
Duke stood there for a long moment, the roses hanging at his side.
He felt awkward. Like a stranger intruding on a personal space.
"I should have come sooner," Duke said quietly.
His voice sounded strange in the silence of the cemetery.
"Every time I come here, I think i was dissapointed with myself. All this money yet I needed to keep my head low."
"But I kept telling myself I was too busy."
To be honest, Money is worthless after a certain point.
He was now a Billionaire on paper, yet he felt sad. To lose his creative avenue felt awful.
He crouched down and placed the roses at the base of the headstone.
"Truth is, I am always slightly afraid of losing the position I hold."
He let out a slow breath.
"Afraid that i've been hiding behind the business for too long. What i I stopped being a storyteller and became... something else."
Duke sat down on the grass beside the grave.
He didn't care about the dampness seeping into his pants.
"Your son Christopher and me, worked together on the script. The movie is planned to come out in a year still."
He shook his head slowly.
"Lord Of The Rings, I've had it for years, and I haven't done anything with it yet."
He looked up at the grey sky. "The script, the storyboard, every shot of the animation was planned and made with love."
"You spent your whole life building that world. The languages, stories. And I'm just... a guy who got lucky."
He laughed softly, a slight bitterness to it.
Duke reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I've been working on something, a script I will direct myself."
He unfolded the paper and looked at it.
"It's called Gladiator, set in Ancient Rome."
"A general who is betrayed by the emperor, sold into slavery, becomes a gladiator, and rises up to take revenge."
He paused.
"It's a big film... Didn't you use to hate the Roman Empire?"
He folded the paper and put it back in his pocket.
"Well, it's a story about honor. About a man who loses everything and has to claw his way back."
He looked at the headstone.
"You'd understand that, I think."
Duke leaned back on his hands, staring at the sky.
"I've also been writing a novel about a man named Forrest Gump. He's... Just like me. Not stupid, just... different."
"And somehow, he ends up at the center of every major event in American history."
He chuckled.
"I don't know if either project will work. They might both be disasters who knows."
He stood up slowly, brushing the damp grass off his trousers.
"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. But I want to make it right."
He placed a hand gently on the top of the headstone.
"I'm going to start telling stories again. Real stories that make other people feel something again"
He paused.
"I don't know if I'll ever be as good as you. Probably not. But I'm going to try. That's the best I can do."
Duke turned and walked back toward the gate.
Duke climbed back into the car and closed the door.
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Back to London, sir?"
"Yes," Duke said.
____
The Tolkien part was supposed to be rewritten in a more subtle way but I'm writing from my Phone since I'm out of state so... Can't.
Thoughts on Wenger?