When the plane landed at Barcelona–El Prat Airport, Lin Qi declined any form of pick-up arrangement.
He rented an inconspicuous black sedan, gripped the steering wheel himself, and sped northeast along C-31 Highway. The Catalonia July sun was blindingly white, and the Mediterranean Sea on his right resembled a shattered sapphire, its endless waves shimmering outside the car window. Twenty minutes later, they arrived in Badalona.
This satellite city right next to Barcelona has a permanent population of less than 200,000, yet it has given birth to a team that won the Europe Champions Cup in 1994... Joventut. Lin Qi's destination was on the second floor of a seafood restaurant in the city center.
"With your wealth and appetite, I thought we'd head straight to Madrid, or stay in Barcelona." In the passenger seat, Gherardini tightened his tie, looking out at the slightly worn streets.
"Don't make fun of me. As a walking encyclopedia of Europe basketball, you should know the special rules of Spain better than I do. If you could buy Real Madrid with a check, I'd be drinking champagne at the Bernabéu right now." Lin Qi slid the car into the shadows of the alley and smoothly turned off the engine.
Gherardini sighed. He was well aware of how complex this situation was, which was the biggest obstacle he faced when sifting through Lin Qi's acquisition list.
"Yes, it's not allowed by law." Gherardini organized his thoughts and explained to the owner, "In 1990, Spain enacted the Sports Law, mandating that all professional clubs be converted into 'Sports Joint Stock Companies' (SADs). This was intended to pave the way for capital investment, turning teams into tradable equity. However, this law left a loophole."
"Clubs that were profitable and had no deficits in the years leading up to the reform were exempted from the reform and could continue to retain their traditional 'membership system.' Royal Madrid and Barcelona took advantage of this loophole to maintain their status."
Lin Qi leaned back in his chair, intrigued. "So, what does it mean?"
"This means that these two powerful families don't legally possess any 'equity' at all." Gherardini gave a wry smile. "They don't belong to any oligarchs, but only to the 80,000 members who pay their dues on time and hold the votes. You can't acquire an 'association,' you can't even find the negotiating table... because sitting across from them isn't a boss who can set a price, but a complex network of people, many of whom don't care about money at all."
Gherardini paused, then added, "Moreover, Real Madrid and Barça's basketball teams have never been independent commercial entities. They are merely 'departments' within the clubs' vast structures, tied to football. To think you could spin off the basketball team and buy it separately? That's wishful thinking."
"In other words, the only ones we can actually put on the table," Lin Qi, pushing open the car door as the Mediterranean Sea heatwave instantly flooded the cabin. He made a cold and precise conclusion, "Are those who were forced to restructure into a joint-stock company back then."
"That's right, Joventut is one of them." Gherardini nodded.
"And most of these clubs are currently losing money like crazy." Lin Qi squinted at the seafood restaurant across the street.
That's precisely why he chose Badalona.
Joventut, who reached the pinnacle of Europe in 1994, was once the pride of Catalonia. But after the gold leaf of their championship faded, what awaited them was a long and fatal blood loss... Sponsors' enthusiasm waned, television broadcasting revenue became pitifully small, while player salaries continued to rise along with the "arms race" across Europe. By 1999, the hole in the books of this joint-stock club had become a bottomless pit that devoured cash.
The majority of the shares were held by a few local businessmen who took over during the restructuring. They weren't basketball fanatics at all, just shrewd businessmen. When the team ruthlessly devoured hundreds of thousands of dollars from them every year, with no glimmer of profit in sight, faith became the least valuable thing.
Anxious shareholders eager to cash out and cut their losses encountered a super buyer who didn't care about the price at all. This was the fleeting, perfect window of opportunity that Lin Qi wanted.
In a private room on the second floor, three Spain had been waiting for some time. The man in the lead Soler, who was not yet forty years old and was wearing a well-tailored high-end suit. However, Lin Qi's sharp eyes immediately fell on the unironed crease on the cuff of his suit.
Only those who are anxious and eager to keep their appointments would overlook such social details.
The small talk, the coffee, and the characteristic Catalonia politeness, all proceeded in circles. Lin Qi patiently spent twenty minutes with them. Finally, Soler abruptly steered the conversation towards the team, sighed heavily, and said, "These past few years have indeed been difficult."
Lin Qi put down his white porcelain coffee cup.
"Mr. Soler, I have no intention of wasting your time, and my time is also very valuable. I am fully aware of Joventut's operating situation this year, and I know exactly how big your financial hole is."
The private room fell silent instantly.
"My offer isn't based on how much you've lost, nor on the premium associated with Joventut ' championship title," Lin Qi slowly extended a finger, his eyes piercing. "I can only guarantee one thing: from this day forward, none of you will have to shed a single drop of blood or spend a single penny for this team."
"I will take over all the debts. As for the equity, I will offer a figure that you cannot refuse. As for your reputation as respectable people in Catalonia, I will protect it to the fullest extent. Publicly, it will be said that you are retiring gracefully and handing the team over to trustworthy people. You decide how to write the press release."
Soler stared at Lin Qi, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Mr. Lin Qi... what are you after? A loss-making Europe team..."
"What I want is irrelevant." Lin Qi leaned back slightly, revealing a composed smile. "The important thing is that today at this negotiating table, I'm the only one who truly doesn't care about money."
The three Spain businessmen exchanged intense glances in mid-air. They were naturally suspicious, racking their brains to guess what sinister intentions this mysterious, suddenly appearing tycoon harbored. But Gherardini's judgment was remarkably accurate... In the end, businessmen always boil down to two words: cut their losses.
What Lin Qi offered was not just money, but also the lifeline they had desperately longed to grasp during countless sleepless Late Night.
The negotiations dragged on from the sweltering afternoon until sunset. After several rounds of probing, the figures finally settled at a range that Lin Qi wouldn't even blink at.
Compared to his enormous net worth of over two billion dollars, this sum was nothing. But for Soler and his companions, it was a thick, gleaming golden rope that pulled them ashore from the brink of drowning.
When he stood up to shake hands, Lin Qi could clearly feel that Soler's palms were covered in sticky, cold sweat.
On the return journey, Gherardini remained silent for a long time. Only when the coastline came into view again, and they were about to arrive at the airport, did he speak in a low voice, "The news can't be kept secret. There will always be people with a keen sense of smell who will investigate who the new master behind Joventut really is."
"It doesn't matter if it spreads in Europe circles." Lin Qi held the steering wheel with one hand, his gaze calmly fixed on the Mediterranean Sea in the twilight outside the window. "Let those Europe think it's some arrogant United States tycoon who impulsively bought a washed-up champion for fun. Let them speculate whether I'm targeting the Europe Champions Cup or preparing to wreak havoc on someone's team."
He paused, a deep, sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
"As long as this wind doesn't blow across the Atlantic Ocean, it'll be fine."
Gherardini turned and glanced at him, but said nothing.
At this very moment, across the Atlantic Ocean, Boston's newspapers and radio stations are undoubtedly hurling insults at Lin Qi.
In the eyes of fans and the media, he is a negligent president who failed to sign any big-name players all summer and whose presence is nowhere to be seen.
Those self-proclaimed smart North America sports reporters could never have imagined that the "incompetent" president they spoke of was sitting in the Mediterranean Sea evening breeze, leisurely buying up hugely loss-making teams on the Europe continent for a mere few million dollars.
Joventut, a club considered a "bottomless pit" by Spain, boasts one of the best youth academies in Europe. In the future, it will produce Rudy Fernandez and "Golden Boy" Ricky Rubio.
More importantly, by using this place as a springboard, Lin Qi effectively established a legitimate Celtics "outpost" on the Europe continent.
Chris Paul Gasol, Mark Gasol...
The next decade will see an unprecedented explosion of talent across the Europe continent.
Meanwhile, Lin Qi's hidden, enormous net was being cast silently, directly at the doorsteps of these geniuses.
At this very moment, apart from Lin Qi, the rest of the world remains completely unaware of this insane plan.