The trees outside the car window swept rapidly past. The pastures along the road were dotted with cattle and sheep, while green wheat swayed gently in the breeze.
It was already the second day. Sitting by the window on a short-distance bus from London to Luton, Gao Bo — the new head coach of Luton Town — gazed quietly at the passing scenery.
What does it take to be the head coach of a team?
It might sound like a simple question, yet that was exactly what occupied Gao Bo's mind.
He didn't believe that having a system meant everything would fall into place. As a manager, he needed to handle every aspect of the job — from designing training plans to commanding on match days, balancing the dressing room, managing players' egos, and identifying transfer targets. None of this could be solved with just a few cards.
Gao Bo had lived through two lifetimes, but in truth, he had no real experience as a first-team manager.
In this life, he stayed in school until he earned a master's degree at twenty-six, then obtained his coaching licence. After that, he joined Chelsea as a youth coach — and a youth coach was a very different role from that of a first-team manager.
That was why Gao Bo approached this new job with extreme caution. In many ways, it was the most critical step in his coaching career — his first true test.
Becoming the head coach of a team, leading it to success, and building a reputation for himself — that was how a managerial career truly began.
Reputation is one of the most vital currencies in football management. When Mourinho took charge of Abramovich's newly-built Chelsea side, he called himself "the Special One." He could do so because he was a Champions League winner, the reigning European Coach of the Year.
Had those words come from an unknown manager, Chelsea's star-studded dressing room would only have sneered.
Last night, Gao Bo had spent hours going through documents and reports about Luton Town.
Located in southern England, close to London, Luton Town FC was founded in 1885 and nicknamed "The Hatters," a nod to the town's long history of hat-making.
For most of its existence, the club had competed in the lower divisions. Promoted to the old First Division in 1982, Luton remained in England's top flight for a decade. But after relegation in 1992, their fortunes declined sharply.
Relegated from the Championship in 2006-07, they dropped again the following season into League One. Financial troubles forced the club into administration, and the Football League docked them thirty points at the start of the 2008-09 season — practically condemning them to relegation before a ball was even kicked.
Still, according to the information provided by David Morton, the new chairman, the situation was beginning to stabilise. Most of the main players had been sold, easing the wage bill and financial pressure. Morton had even promised to make £200,000 available for transfers.
Looking back on it now, Gao Bo realised that although the team had been crippled by the points deduction, its future at least looked more secure. The squad might have been weakened, but the club was no longer on the brink of collapse.
In essence, Luton had fallen from League One to League Two, but even after selling so many players, their quality would still be among the lower-mid ranks of the division.
Taking charge of such a team was no ordinary challenge.
Outside the bus window, the farmlands gave way to neat rows of colourful bungalows. Luton Town was getting closer.
Gao Bo took a deep breath. The pleasant scenery lifted his spirits, and the nervousness he'd felt slowly gave way to determination and ambition.
The bus wound its way into the small English town.
Luton had a population of only about 160,000. Narrow streets ran between rows of red-brick houses.
The club had arranged accommodation for Gao Bo in an apartment just five or six hundred metres from Kenilworth Road — Luton's home stadium. A short walk along a lane lined with plane trees led to the modest office building beside the ground.
To call it an "office building" was generous. It was a small two-storey structure with a handful of offices, a gym, and a rehabilitation room. The facilities were a far cry from the grandeur of Chelsea's Cobham Training Centre.
Kenilworth Road could hold around 10,000 spectators. There was only a single tier of stands, no roof, and the sky-blue seats had clearly faded over the years. The pitch, slightly uneven and patchy, looked as though it hadn't been properly maintained since the end of the season.
A few hundred metres away on Maple Road stood another small ground — without stands — rented by the club as its training field.
"That's the Kenilworth Road Stand," said David Morton, pointing across the stadium. "Opposite is the Oak Road Stand, the one on the left is the Main Stand, and on the right, the David Preece Stand."
He spoke with the pride of someone showing off a cherished family heirloom.
Gao Bo glanced at the man beside him, who looked about his own age.
"I heard you're American?" he asked.
"My nationality is American," Morton replied with a smile, "but I'm from Luton. This was my mother's team. When I was a boy, she used to bring me here, to this very stand."
Then his expression turned solemn. "Right now, Luton is in its most dangerous period, Gao Bo. I know it'll be difficult to avoid relegation this season, but maybe… next season, can we at least fight our way back to League Two? Luton deserves to remain in the professional leagues."
Gao Bo looked at him, eyes firm and steady.
"We won't be relegated."
"What did you say?" Morton blinked, unsure he'd heard correctly.
"I said," Gao Bo repeated, his voice resolute, "we won't be relegated."
David Morton fell silent for a moment.
Almost everyone believed that Luton Town was destined for relegation. Even the club's most loyal supporters had reluctantly accepted that fate.
Most of the main players were gone, and even several promising reserves had left on their own. In his efforts to resolve the club's financial crisis, David Morton had already stretched himself thin. For the foreseeable future, signing quality reinforcements was next to impossible.
He had managed to scrape together a transfer budget of just £200,000. With that kind of money, who could he realistically buy?
If anyone else had made such a bold claim, Morton would have dismissed it as empty comfort. But when he saw the unwavering light in the young coach's eyes, he couldn't help but feel a spark of belief.
This man was absolutely confident in himself.
It reminded Morton, faintly, of Mourinho.
For the first time, he felt a surge of hope.
"No matter what happens this season, I won't pressure you," Morton said earnestly. "That's a promise."
He extended his fist.
Gao Bo smiled faintly and met it with his own.
Their fists touched firmly.
Sunlight slanted down from the top of the Kenilworth Road stands, casting a warm glow over the pitch.
The young chairman.
The young manager.
Two figures, standing side by side — their shadows stretching long across the grass beneath the afternoon sun.
...
In a small meeting room inside the club's modest office building, Gao Bo met the members of Luton Town's coaching staff for the first time.
Most football clubs in England don't have roles above the head coach—no "team manager" or "technical director." That meant that here at Luton, aside from the club owner David Morton, the head coach held the highest authority.
"This is Mr Gao Bo from China. Starting today, he will serve as the team's head coach," David Morton announced.
The staff in the room turned their eyes toward Gao Bo with open curiosity.
Luton was a small town not far from London. Most Chinese tourists preferred to visit famous landmarks such as Big Ben, or travel to cities like Manchester and Liverpool. It was rare to see Chinese visitors in Luton—let alone a Chinese man suddenly arriving to take charge of their football club.
Today, Gao Bo was dressed neatly in black trousers, polished leather shoes, and a long dark trench coat left unbuttoned to reveal a crisp shirt beneath. His angular face, strong brows, sharp eyes, and straight nose carried a calm, friendly smile.
A twenty-seven-year-old Chinese man, taking over as Luton's head coach—such news would undoubtedly attract the attention of both local and London media.
But one question was on everyone's mind: Do the Chinese even understand football?
Curiosity soon turned to skepticism. The staff studied the young man before them, wondering if someone who looked so unassuming could really lead Luton out of its crisis.
"Mr Gao Bo previously served as head coach of Chelsea's Under-18s, where he led the team to win the FA Youth Cup," David Morton continued. "He also holds a UEFA A-Level Coaching Licence."
That announcement drew surprised looks around the room. Coaching Chelsea's U18s—and winning the Youth Cup—was no small achievement. At the very least, it proved that Gao Bo was capable. Whatever his nationality, such credentials commanded a basic level of respect.
Still, the mention of a UEFA A Licence didn't impress many of the English staff. In the lower divisions, "academic coaches" were rarely valued. This was a league built on grit and experience, not theory.
After introducing Gao Bo, Morton began presenting his new colleagues one by one.
Following the club's relegation and financial turmoil, the previous head coach had resigned before the end of last season, taking most of his assistants with him. Now, there were only two members left from the first-team coaching group.
The first was assistant coach John Aston, a former club legend who had once led the youth team before being promoted to the senior staff. Since the former head coach's departure, John had been acting manager—but he welcomed Gao Bo's arrival without resentment.
John understood his own limitations. Leading Luton through a League Two season would have been beyond him. He remained only out of loyalty to the club he loved. So when he shook Gao Bo's hand, it was with a genuine smile.
The other was Melvin Donald, the long-serving fitness coach. He had been with Luton for over two decades and had no intention of abandoning the team now.
Beyond these two, the rest of the meeting's attendees were from the youth academy.
Despite the senior team's recent chaos, the youth setup had remained stable. English clubs generally maintain complete youth systems—sometimes even those at the seventh or eighth tier.
Luton was no different. From Under-8 to Under-18, each age group had its own dedicated coach. For the younger levels, particularly Under-14 and below, the focus was on broad recruitment and participation. From Under-15 upward, the program shifted to elite development, requiring more investment and tighter structure.
Altogether, the youth system employed just over a dozen coaches. In addition, the club had ground-staff, maintenance workers, and a small team of scouts.
Gao Bo greeted each of his new colleagues politely, his manner calm and respectful. His sincerity left a good first impression.
The season had already ended, and the players were away on holiday, so Gao Bo had no opportunity yet to meet his squad.
Still, that didn't stop him from getting to work.
That very afternoon, he began reviewing the team's situation in detail. When John Aston handed him the current squad list, Gao Bo quickly realised the problem was far worse than he had imagined.
At present, only three players in the entire first-team squad were over twenty-one years old.
The first was Kevin Nicholls, twenty-nine, the team captain and a central midfielder talented enough to play at Championship level. A long-time servant of the club, Kevin had stayed loyal despite multiple offers elsewhere.
The second was Sam Parkin, a twenty-seven-year-old striker who had been a backup forward last season. John Aston explained that Parkin was unlikely to remain much longer—he had suffered a serious injury late in the campaign, and the only reason he hadn't left already was because he was still in recovery.
The third was George Pilkington, a twenty-six-year-old centre-back who had been with the club for several seasons. Solid and reliable, George was at least capable of competing at League Two level.
Apart from these three, every other player was under twenty-one.
In other words, almost the entire squad from last season's League One campaign had departed. The current roster consisted almost entirely of youth-team graduates.
Most of these young players had never even appeared in a professional match. A side like this—built from academy hopefuls—would struggle in League Two even without the thirty-point deduction.
Gao Bo rubbed his forehead.
The situation was far worse than he had expected.