Football Dynasty-Chapter 40: In Prison

In the later Chapters of his life, Ian Edward Wright—or as he would become known, Ian Wright—would go on to achieve great success with London clubs Crystal Palace and Arsenal.

Known for his speed, agility, lethal finishing, and relentless aggression, he would eventually lift the Premier League title, both major domestic cup competitions, and the European Cup Winners' Cup.

Born to Jamaican parents in the Woolwich area of London, Wright's journey to footballing stardom wasn't smooth.

He was initially overlooked by professional clubs, forcing him to carve out his own path through non-league football.

After City's rejection, Richard gradually began to put Ian Wright out of his mind.

He had other targets—players who were younger, prospects he believed could make him more money in the long run. However, fate had a funny way of bringing people back together, and Wright's name was never too far from the conversation.

Richard had never contacted Ian before, let alone spoken to him. But one thing was certain—he always kept his scouting records safe and secure.

It was no secret that Richard Maddox had an eye for talent.

He was the man who unearthed the next generation of City stars, including Rob Jones, Graeme Le Saux, and Steve McManaman.

With his outspoken nature, daring bets, and willingness to shake up the status quo, he had become both respected and notorious. But one thing was undeniable—people recognized his ability to spot raw talent.

As a result, many in the football world, from local scouts to casual fans, would tip him off whenever they saw a player with potential.

Some did it out of hope, some out of curiosity, and others simply because they wanted to see what madness Richard Maddox would stir up next.

As a result, he got a tip-off from Billy Smith, the manager of Dulwich Hamlet, about a promising 21-year-old striker playing park football.

As City's scout at the time, Richard naturally went to see for himself, and within 20 seconds, Wright had already opened the scoring with a stunning solo effort.

Accounts differ on exactly how many goals he netted that day—some say three, others four—but one thing was certain: it was more than enough to earn him a trial at City.

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What Richard didn't know, however, was that danger was lurking in the shadows, watching his every move—his long-time nemesis, City's own Peter Pettigrew.

The moment Richard let his guard down, Peter struck first. He didn't try to persuade Ian directly. Instead, he went after his family.

Caught off guard, Richard was blindsided when Ian rejected him outright, saying he already had an agent.

Suspicious, Richard dug deeper, and after some investigation, he finally connected the dots.

Fuming, he confronted Pettigrew, but with the backing of Ian's mother—especially his stepfather—Richard found himself forced to back off.

Just like that, Ian Wright's name never came up again in his scouting reports. Even if he was disappointed, he didn't dwell on it for long.

Ian Wright wasn't the only future star he had his eye on.

Rather than wasting time lamenting a lost opportunity, he quickly redirected his focus to another rising talent—Les Ferdinand.

Ferdinand was born in Acton, Greater London, which made tracking him down relatively easy. But when Richard finally met Les Ferdinand, things didn't exactly go as planned.

It wasn't the kind of chaos you'd expect—no brawls, no riots—just spectacularly bad timing. He had unknowingly walked straight into a family birthday party. And not just any birthday party. It was a full-blown family gathering, with every single Ferdinand in existence seemingly present.

Richard considered turning around and leaving to avoid intruding, but before he could slip away, the ever-hospitable Ferdinands enthusiastically invited him to join the celebration instead.

With no escape route in sight, he begrudgingly became the one and only outsider at this lively family affair.

Still, good people will always find a way—that's what he believed. As the party carried on, Richard found himself mingling with the Ferdinand family, brushing shoulders with the cousins—including baby Anton Ferdinand, who had no idea he would one day follow in his older cousin's footsteps.

But his attention remained fixed on one young boy—the true protagonist of the evening. There he was, grinning from ear to ear, blowing out the candles on his birthday cake: Rio Ferdinand.

'Jackpot...'

That's for the future, by the way.

At 20 years old, Les Ferdinand moved from Southall to Hayes, where he made an impression by scoring 20 goals in 42 appearances across all competitions. He spent two years there, and now, at 22, he was still grinding away in the lower leagues.

So naturally, Richard's arrival was like a firework in the dark—sudden, explosive, and impossible to ignore.

However, when they heard his offer, their expressions changed instantly.

They had all heard the rumors, but hearing it firsthand was a different story. All of them had the same thought: 'This guy is insane.'

Just like before, Richard made his offer—not as a scout, but as an agent. His proposal was bold: he would buy Ferdinand's contract from Hayes, and in return, Ferdinand would have to follow him from trial to trial, just as he had done with Shearer before.

This meant Ferdinand would have to start over, right? Was he crazy?

But under the pressure of money—especially after Richard played his trump card, a €15,000 guarantee that he would take care of Les Ferdinand—they finally caved and agreed. And with that, another name was added to Richard's book of rising stars.

So, as it stood, the players under Richard's wing were:

Alan Shearer – Striker / Current club: Southampton

Matt Le Tissier – Attacking Midfielder / Current club: Southampton

Teddy Sheringham – Striker / Second Striker / Current club: Millwall

Tony Cascarino – Striker / Current club: Millwall

Andy Cole – Striker / Current club: Arsenal

Lee Sharpe – Winger / Current club: Manchester United

Yes, you're right.

Despite Richard's involvement, fate seemed to take its natural course.

After being rejected by City, Andy Cole and Lee Sharpe still ended up at Arsenal and Manchester United, just as they were always meant to.

In fact, Lee Sharpe had already joined United's first team as a backup for new signing Ralph Milne when the club's first-choice left winger, Jesper Olsen, left for Næstved.

After Les Ferdinand agreed, it didn't take long for Richard to shift his focus back to where he truly belonged—Queens Park Rangers.

As expected, Ferdinand was offered a contract by QPR, signed without hesitation, and officially joined the club. His family was overjoyed, showering Richard with gratitude for helping their son take the next big step in his career.

Richard accepted their thanks, but he knew the real challenges were just beginning. Hayes and QPR were two entirely different worlds, and Ferdinand would have to adapt quickly.

Sure enough, his first year didn't go as planned—he was loaned out for three games to Third Division Brentford before spending a season with the Turkish club Beşiktaş.

The moment his family heard the news, panic set in. 'Turkey? What kind of place is that?'

Concerned and confused, Ferdinand's parents immediately contacted Richard, demanding answers. Only after he calmly explained the situation did they finally settle down. Soon, their patience paid off.

Ferdinand thrived in Turkey, scoring 14 goals in 24 league games. More importantly, he got his first taste of silverware, helping Beşiktaş secure a 3–1 aggregate victory over Fenerbahçe in the Turkish Cup.

Now, if one were to look at the statistics, they would find Les Ferdinand's name listed with nine First Division appearances, along with his first two English league goals.

SCREECH!!!

The sharp, grating sound of tires skidding against asphalt echoed through the air as a brand-new Rover 200 came to an abrupt halt in front of Chelmsford Prison.

Richard didn't waste a second. He strode up to the front desk of Chelmsford Prison, where a bored-looking officer sat behind thick glass, barely acknowledging his presence.

Richard rapped his knuckles on the counter, forcing the man to look up.

"I'm here to see Ian Edward Wright," he said, his tone firm.

The officer blinked, then sighed, reaching for a clipboard. "Name?"

Richard didn't bother answering. Instead, he smoothly took the clipboard, discreetly slipping a few bills onto it before sliding it back across the counter.

"Richard Maddox."

The officer's eyes flickered with recognition. Instantly, his previously indifferent attitude melted away.

Without another word, he picked up the phone, muttered something into the receiver, then turned back to Richard with a knowing look.

"Follow me," he said, this time with a smile—too warm, too eager. It made Richard's skin crawl.

As the heavy metal door buzzed open, he stepped through, the cold air inside the prison hitting him like a wall. The door slammed shut behind him with an unsettling finality. The hallway smelled of damp concrete, sweat, and something faintly metallic.

After a short walk, they arrived at a small, dimly lit visiting room. A heavy table sat in the center, bolted to the floor, with two chairs facing each other.

And there he was.

Broken. His eyes were swollen and puffy—whether from exhaustion, anxiety, or crying, Richard couldn't tell. But he knew. He knew because if he were in Ian's shoes, he'd be the same.

His wife and two sons were waiting for him at home, but he wasn't there.

He was here. Locked away.

All because of unpaid fines for driving without tax or insurance. Such a small mistake, yet the weight of it crushed him like a landslide.

Richard's guess had been right.

After being locked in that cold, suffocating cell, Ian had broken down. He had wept—shoulders shaking, hands clenched into fists—tears falling with the full weight of his regret.

And in that moment, alone in the darkness, he had sworn to God that if he ever got out, he would do everything in his power to make it as a footballer.

No matter what it took.

"Ian."

"..."

"Ian!"

Finally, Ian Wright, his head lowered, his shoulders trembling as he sniffled, slowly lifted his gaze.

And when he saw Richard standing there, his breath caught in his throat. His blood ran cold.

"R-Richard... y-you—"

"Mr. Pigden called me."

The moment that name left Richard's lips, Ian shattered. His face crumpled, and before he could stop himself, tears streamed down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, his body wracked with sobs.

"I blew it," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I blew it. I ended up in prison, and now... I don't know what to do anymore." His words tumbled out between ragged breaths, his whole body shaking.

"Even Mr. Pigden knows... He must be so disappointed."

Allen remained silent, watching as Ian Wright broke down before him.

Truth be told, he didn't know much about Ian—at least, not personally. But once, he had seen a video.

A grainy clip playing on someone's screen, showing Wright reuniting with his former teacher. He remembered the way Wright had wept, clinging to the old man as if he were a lifeline.

After that, the screen changed to an older Ian Wright, wearing his iconic flat cap, saying, "Teacher Sydney Pigden taught me to read and write. He was the first positive male figure in my life."

"Ian..." Richard called softly.

Ian's sobbing slowed, but he was still sniffling, his face a mess of tears and misery.

"Ian, where is your mother? Where is Peter? Didn't he sign you up?"

Ian shook his head. "They rejected me. I'm on my own now."

Richard's eyes widened in shock. "What?! Didn't he promise you a trial at City? What the hell happened?"

Under Richard's persistent questioning, Ian finally told him everything. Yes, he had gone on trial at City, but he was rejected almost immediately.

After that, he begged Peter Pettigrew for another chance—after all, Peter had promised to help him—but the answer was still no.

With no other options, Ian had left, dejected and alone.

"Why didn't you call me? Didn't you have my number?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Richard realized the flaw in his own thinking. Of course Ian hadn't called.

From the very beginning, he had fought his way up because of money—or rather, the lack of it. For someone like him, even a few pennies mattered. A phone call? That was a luxury he couldn't afford.

Richard felt a deep frustration settle in his chest. He wanted to explain to Ian that his role was different from Pettigrew's. Peter was a scout. He was an agent. Two completely different roles.

He couldn't help but blame the times—how outdated the system was. The role of an agent was still unfamiliar, especially to players in the lower leagues.

But still, he was curious.

What had Pettigrew said to make Ian reject him so completely?