Soccer: I’m Building a Giant in the Premier League

Chapter 26 – A Major Upset

When referee Alan Wiley blew the whistle to signal the end of the first half, a chorus of boos erupted around Stamford Bridge.

Chelsea fans were clearly unhappy with the team's performance this season.

Under Ranieri, the Blues hadn't shown the dominance expected of a team that had spent nearly £200 million in the summer transfer window.

And in the VIP box, Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich sat, face like thunder.

He'd invested a fortune into building a supposed superpower, only to watch his team get humiliated at home by a League Two side.

By Bayswater Chinese FC, no less!

What kind of reaction could he possibly give?

"This is exactly Ranieri's problem," said Israeli super-agent Pini Zahavi, pointing to the pitch as he spoke to Abramovich.

"Yes, the Christmas period is congested, but the FA Cup is do-or-die."

"Look at the league. United are top with 46 points, Arsenal just behind with 45—and they're still unbeaten. We're on 42. The title? Not likely."

"Everyone knows Ferguson's teams thrive during the winter grind."

"That's why Ranieri is going all-in on the FA Cup—to save the season with silverware."

Chelsea had already crashed out of the League Cup, losing 2–1 away to Aston Villa in the quarterfinals.

By every measure, Ranieri's team had underwhelmed.

Not just in results, but in identity, in spirit.

"He wants the league and the cups—but he'll end up with nothing. He's lost the plot!"

Until Round 16 of the Premier League, Chelsea had been top.

But they lost that match 1–2 at home to Bolton, surrendering first place.

At Christmas, they were still close to Arsenal and United—separated by a single point.

But in Round 18, on December 26, Chelsea lost 2–4 to Charlton away.

Though they beat Portsmouth 3–0 three days later, the damage was done.

Now, they were down 0–2 at home to a fourth-division side in the FA Cup.

Chelsea were supposed to be a top-four team. Full of stars. Super rich.

And yet…

"Roman, not every great coach knows how to win once they've got a title-worthy squad."

Zahavi's words might as well have been a death sentence for Ranieri.

Time to change managers.

Abramovich's disdain for Ranieri had always been written on his face.

He'd known from the first meeting—Ranieri wasn't the man to deliver titles.

But he didn't reply. He just turned and glanced at Zahavi, then sat back down silently.

"Bayswater Chinese FC look good," he muttered.

Zahavi couldn't read the Russian's poker face. He offered a safe response:

"They're comfortably top of League Two. Very likely to get promoted."

"So, the stadium… won't be for sale?"

Zahavi froze, studying Abramovich.

The Russian's expression was unreadable.

"Hard to say."

"I spoke to Elvino. After selling a player, Bayswater repaid the £2 million debt. But if they're promoted to League One—soon to be the Championship—they'll likely have to rent a stadium."

"Why?" Abramovich asked.

"The new Championship rules require modern broadcasting infrastructure. Bayswater's ground has none of it."

"And the capacity's tiny."

Abramovich nodded. "Then push harder. Offer more if needed. I'm sick of this outdated Stamford Bridge."

He grumbled, "Even Arsenal are building a new stadium."

Keeping up with the neighbors, Zahavi thought.

But it fit. That was Abramovich in a nutshell.

Zahavi nodded immediately.

The Russian stood, glanced down at the pitch once more, and left.

He couldn't watch anymore.

To him, Ranieri was already a dead man walking.

He just hadn't found a worthy successor.

Certainly not Sven-Göran Eriksson—a man who couldn't keep his zipper closed had no business running a dressing room full of stars.

And Bayswater Chinese FC?

Goddammit, the money they used to save themselves had come from his own pocket.

Now they were scoring twice at Stamford Bridge?

It felt like shooting himself in the foot.

…

The second half was frantic.

Ranieri made two changes at the break.

Crespo replaced Hasselbaink to boost the attack.

Duff came on for Joe Cole.

Gronkjaer switched to the right.

Duff took the left.

The plan was clear: target the aging Steve Jenkins with Duff's speed and aggression.

And immediately, Bayswater's right side came under siege.

Duff repeatedly tore past Jenkins.

Babayaro surged forward too.

Suddenly, Chelsea's left wing became their launchpad.

In the 56th minute, Duff blew past Jenkins again, whipped in a cross—Crespo headed it in.

1–2!

Hope.

Yang Cheng responded instantly.

Williamson came on for goal-scorer Devaney.

Modrić shifted to the right wing.

Williamson and Rowlands joined Huddlestone in midfield.

Bayswater were no longer in a 4-3-3.

Now it looked more like a 4-3-2-1, with Ribéry and Modrić floating behind the striker.

The team sat deeper. Compact. Defensive.

Yang Cheng wasn't sure how effective it would be.

But it was the best bet to beat Chelsea.

Every minute that passed felt like an eternity.

Chelsea had momentum.

Their wing play was relentless.

Bayswater looked like they might collapse at any moment.

But Koscielny and Johnson stayed sharp.

Joe Hart produced several excellent saves.

Then, in the 75th minute, Ranieri made his final change:

Gudjohnsen on for Gronkjaer.

Mutu moved left.

Duff switched right.

Up top: Crespo and Gudjohnsen.

But the more Chelsea attacked, the more confident Bayswater became.

In the 78th, Yang brought on Kevin Foley for Jenkins.

In the 83rd, Bayswater stole the ball and launched a counter.

Modrić slipped past Makélélé and played Ribéry down the left.

Ribéry burned past Melchiot, then tangled with Terry, drawing a corner.

Koscielny's header off the set piece went over—but Chelsea were rattled.

Bayswater were fearless.

Chelsea? Panicked.

Despite their pressure, they couldn't find another goal.

…

"Referee Alan Wiley blows for full time."

"2–1!"

"Bayswater Chinese FC have defeated Chelsea at Stamford Bridge!!"

"A monumental upset!"

"Yes, we always say the FA Cup is full of surprises—but who saw this coming?"

"Chelsea, packed with stars, beaten at home by a League Two team."

"Ranieri's side have suffered another disaster."

"That's two huge blows in one week."

"They lost the Premier League lead days ago—and now they're out of the FA Cup."

…

As the final whistle blew, Yang Cheng and Brian Kidd charged onto the pitch.

Players from the bench rushed in to join the celebration.

2–1!

They had done the unthinkable.

Beaten Chelsea. At Stamford Bridge.

The 5,000 away fans were still outnumbered—but their cheers filled the stadium.

And in the middle of it all, Yang Cheng was the most ecstatic of all.

This wasn't just revenge.

It was validation.

He had proven he belonged.

And that Ranieri's time was up.

Maybe it was harsh. Ranieri was a good man.

But football didn't reward kindness.

Despite the money, despite the years—his Chelsea still played old-fashioned football.

Wingers whipping in crosses. Simple.

But the modern game was evolving.

United. Arsenal. Liverpool.

All were adopting continental ideas—build through the middle, then spread wide.

That was what Yang Cheng had set out to prove to Brian Kidd:

That he and Bayswater Chinese FC could deliver the football England had been yearning for.

Yang turned to look at Kidd again.

The old man was beaming.

Laughing, hugging Ribéry, then Modrić, then throwing his arm around Rowlands—

There was no doubt.

Brian Kidd believed.

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