Deeper cooperation?
David couldn't help but feel a swell of suspicion. He knew Mogi's reputation as a shrewd, manipulative figure in Italian football. It was highly unlikely that the infamous Juventus director had invited him to propose a mutually beneficial partnership out of kindness.
"What's the catch?" David thought, but he maintained his outward composure.
Mogi's comment about working together sounded reasonable enough—encouraging collaboration between Notts County and Juventus. But David knew this man didn't deal in equal partnerships; he schemed in angles. Juventus, after all, didn't need a second-division English team to develop its players.
Notts County, despite its ambitions, was yet to truly register on the world football radar.
David hid his skepticism behind a diplomatic smile.
"If deeper cooperation with Juventus is possible, it would, of course, be a great privilege for us. I am especially interested in learning about Juventus' youth training and medical systems. Bringing a world-class football culture to England would be invaluable."
He paused briefly before delivering his polite refusal.
"As for loans, I'm a bit hesitant. With the level of competition in League Two, I fear we can't provide your young players the kind of development they need." David kept his tone light. "It would be Knotts County who would be guilty of slowing down their growth."
Mogi's cool expression did not waver, but David could sense the irritation brewing beneath.
"This young man doesn't know how the world works," Mogi thought condescendingly. "He's green and naive—dreaming of taking Juventus' expertise for free."
Putting down his knife and fork with a quiet clink, Mogi leaned forward slightly—it was clear he was done with pleasantries.
"I'm afraid you're being too modest, Mr. David," Mogi said with a practiced smile. "The level of your league may be lower, but the players in your squad clearly don't belong there."
David's eyebrow arched slightly—Mogi was finally showing his hand.
Mogi continued, dropping the façade of generalities: "To be frank, I have my eye on three very talented players in your squad: Alonso, Iniesta, and Lahm. They all have incredible promise.
Let me bring the truth to the table—Notts County will not give them the platform they need to shine. They belong at higher levels, and Juventus can provide that stage.
And, of course, we would write you a check large enough to strengthen your club even further. This could be beneficial to everyone involved."
David almost laughed aloud at the audacity of the man's pitch. So that was the real game. Mogi wanted to poach his three most prized players under the guise of "opportunity" to grow—not unlike a wolf in sheep's clothing justifying its appetite.
For a moment, David said nothing, drawing the tension out deliberately.
"No wonder he's in this business," David mused inwardly. "Smooth words with a stick hidden behind them."
David smiled faintly, a sharp glint in his eye, no longer holding back his disdain for Mogi's arrogance.
"Ah, so that's the purpose behind your proposal," David said, voice cool and firm. "You want me to sell the players we've worked so hard to bring into our squad and develop? That's quite an interesting offer."
David paused, leaning slightly back in his chair, clearly signaling that he had no intention of being pressured.
"These players," he started, "may be with us in League Two right now, but I assure you they are the foundation of Notts County's future. Selling them now would be like cutting down a sapling before it has the chance to grow into a mighty tree."
Mogi's charismatic demeanor faltered ever so slightly, but only for a moment before snapping back into place.
"I'm sure we could offer them a much broader stage to develop," Mogi countered smoothly. "Juventus is one of the world's top clubs. Don't you think it would be cruel to deny them that opportunity?"
David leaned forward, meeting Mogi's gaze head-on, his tone sharpening.
"Mr. Mogi, it's not a matter of cruelty. It's about investing in their potential, not selling it prematurely. And might I remind you, Juventus has spent over €170 million this summer—the biggest spenders in Europe. Adding another €20 million for three young, developing players, as talented as they are, hardly seems like your priority right now."
Mogi's eyes narrowed. "Twenty million?"
David smirked. "Surely your team didn't give you the full scouting report on Alonso, Iniesta, and Lahm."
He leaned back, picking up his wine glass, swirling it absentmindedly.
"You see, Alonso isn't just any midfielder. He was the captain of Real Sociedad last season, leading his team in La Liga. It cost us €13 million to bring him to Notts County."
"Then there's Lahm," David continued. "Bayern Munich youth product—arguably their finest defensive talent in years. We had to negotiate a loan deal with a €10 million buyout clause attached."
"And, of course, Iniesta," David said, now looking directly at Mogi. "You probably know his origin—La Masia's crown jewel—and while he represents a smaller transfer fee, he's far more valuable to us than any price tag. He's the cornerstone of our project."
For the first time in their conversation, Mogi looked visibly shaken. He quickly masked it, but the realization had hit: Notts County didn't just stumble into owning these players. Juventus wouldn't be able to sweep in with a polite offer and take them away.
"This is embarrassing," Mogi thought bitterly, discomfort evident in his tight-lipped smile.
"That's quite the investment for a League Two club," Mogi said, carefully easing into his next comment. "I must applaud your courage."
David gave a small nod of acknowledgment, but his voice grew colder.
"We don't spend recklessly—we spend with a purpose. And let me assure you, Mr. Mogi, we're not here to be Juventus' farm team."
The light tension was unmistakable. Mogi realized further negotiation was futile. Though he quickly shifted conversation to club management and more neutral topics, the balance in the room had shifted irreparably.
As the meeting wound down and the two prepared to part, Mogi extended a hand with his polished, diplomatic smile.
"Perhaps, one day, we'll see Juventus and Notts County meet in European competition. I look forward to that possibility."
David shook his hand firmly, his tone unwavering.
"I know that day will come, Mr. Mogi. Perhaps sooner than either of us expects."
As David left the high-end restaurant, he smirked ever so slightly. He had no doubt: this conquest wasn't Juventus', nor was it Mogi's. The road from League Two to European glory was Notts County's story to write.
Would Juventus lose sleep over a missed trade? Probably not.
But David had no intention of letting anyone rewrite their script—Notts County was bound for greatness, on their terms.