Football: My AI System Provides Max-Level Predictions
Chapter 129 - 118: 5 million cash piled into a mountain in the locker room! This is going all out against Inter!_2

Chapter 129: Chapter 118: 5 million cash piled into a mountain in the locker room! This is going all out against Inter!_2

He raised his cane, looking at the trembling, sweat-drenched, and shivering head coach.

Carlo Rossi sighed softly, lowered his hand gently, then suddenly struck with force—a "thud" sounded as he slapped the tactics board flying.

"Boys, now is not the time to discuss tactics. I know what you like, and I make you this promise: If you win against Inter Milan at home, I’ll reward you with a one-time bonus of five million euros!"

With a grand gesture, Carlo Rossi declared.

Under the astonished gazes of everyone, several burly men in well-tailored suits, with heads shaved clean, like walking fortresses, carried heavy boxes and confidently strode into the room.

"Pour it out! Right here, pour it! Let it all bloom!"

Rossi’s command carried an indisputable power.

Upon receiving the chairman’s instructions, they clicked open the boxes one by one.

At that moment, the air in the locker room seemed to freeze!

Whoosh, rumble—

Yellow euro bills poured out like an endless golden waterfall from the box openings!

The bills traced bright arcs in the air, gleaming with an enticing luster, and finally fell in the center of the locker room, rapidly piling up into a small mountain shining with the light of wealth.

"Ah, is this... is this really money?"

"Terrifying, my goodness!"

"Wow, so five million in cash piles up to such a big mound!"

"My God, I swear I’ve only seen this much cash in dreams."

All the players stared in a daze.

For these Sassuolo players, many had never seen so much money in their lives.

As a small team, Sassuolo was of Serie A level, but the players’ salaries were quite average.

The top scorer Bellardini’s annual salary just crossed a million.

Most other players earned tens of thousands.

Divided among everyone, this money was worth more than many people’s half-year salary.

"So much money, really so much money," Carlo Rossi squatted down, stroking the mound of yellow euro bills, then looked at everyone with reddened eyes, "Boys, win this match! After winning, it’s all yours! Crush Inter Milan at home for me!"

Carlo Rossi tremulously picked up a stack of bills and tossed it into the air!

Instantly, a rain of money started falling inside the locker room!

He lifted his head, standing amidst the swirling rain of bills, feeling a surge of heroism: "We must avenge our past shame, let these stinking Milanese know the might of Sassuolo!"

"Everyone—stand up!"

At the command of Captain Paulo Cannavaro, all Sassuolo players, like fierce and well-trained soldiers, instantly formed a circle, surrounding Carlo Rossi and the pile of money.

As the brother of the Golden Ball Award-winning captain of Italy, Cannavaro.

Paulo Cannavaro was not only the captain of this Sassuolo but also their absolute core and soul.

"Brothers, for this five hundred... cough, no! For the glory of the chairman, for the honor of Sassuolo, demolish Inter for me! Do we have confidence?"

"Absolutely confident!" The players, each filled with boundless enthusiasm, had resolute expressions.

Generous rewards will naturally produce brave men.

Carlo Rossi, for this match against Inter Milan, was forced to spend five million euros, as he had no other choice.

In recent years, under governmental crackdown, his underground black businesses in Italy had mostly been dismantled.

Rossi could no longer sustain Sassuolo any longer.

Rumors had it that after this season, he would sell the team to a consortium from Finland.

But one thing had been stuck in Carlo Rossi’s throat, leaving him unable to let go for a long time.

That was the past year’s humiliating defeats to Inter Milan: one home, one away, two matches 0:14, not a single goal scored!

Carlo Rossi was unwilling to leave Sassuolo with such a disgraceful record, or he would feel guilty for a lifetime, unable to forgive himself!

According to his own words, he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes even in the coffin.

This septuagenarian chairman awaited one last showdown with Inter Milan this season, hoping to close his over a decade as Sassuolo’s chairman with a miraculous victory, drawing a not-so-perfect but finally concluded Chapter.

As Carlo Rossi slowly exited the locker room with the support of bodyguards.

He couldn’t help but turn back once more, his gaze piercing through the clamor, landing on the players swarming around the pile of money, eyes gleaming with greed, wildly gesturing, shouting in bewilderment.

In Carlo Rossi’s eyes, the once-burning candlelight seemed snuffed out by an unseen cold wind, instantly dimming, leaving only a trace of helpless ash.

"This era has completely changed its appearance."

Rossi silently lamented in his heart, "The players’ hearts no longer beat for honor; only the cold, yellow euro bills can ignite their will to win, isn’t that so?"

His thoughts drifted back to before the 1960s.

At the dock in Genoa, southern Italy, where he battled his way up with his brothers.

The old guards of their generation once risked their lives for brothers, faced fire and water for gang honor.

But that kind of burning belief had, at some inconspicuous moment after the new millennium, receded quietly like the tide, leaving only an empty beach.