You're an oligarch. You have so much money it's silly to count it. Your businesses are secure; even in a worst-case scenario the revenue's going to keep rolling in. You fight the big battles (the ones that would cost a billion or two) but with the rest it's essentially dabbling, fiddling around. You want fun, you want excitement. You get distracted: "Ooh, is that yacht the new model? I'll have it, thanks. Yes, on the account. Cheers." And you get bored easily.
And it doesn't really matter because, well, you have more money than anybody could ever know what to do with. You spent £64 million paying off managers you sacked? So what? Your friends spend that on clothes. You don't, obviously.
Other people don't like? So what? There was a lot of people didn't like it when you bought that aluminium works. Other people think your manager deserved more of a chance because he won the Champions League?
Avram Grant nearly won the Champions League. It's essentially a 16-team knockout tournament that you play in every year: or at least you should do, eh Roberto? Sometimes the cards fall right for even the worst poker player. You know that.
You never trusted him. You never thought he was all that. You only ever wanted him to fill in while you tried to find somebody to replace that Portuguese bloke who seemed a bit like the other Portuguese bloke but wasn't really. You knew what would happen. Yes, yes, everybody's criticising you for sacking him but really your mistake was appointing him. You'll kid no one with wins; that's what one of the Alans said on Match of the Day. You should never have given in.
Remember how you brushed past him in Munich as he shouted, "I did it!"? That was the attitude to take. If only your shoulder had stayed cold and you hadn't given in to emotion. All those people saying, "Oh, Roberto deserves the job."
And now they're saying he deserved more time. Nonsense! He deserved less time. You should have sacked him after the defeat to Shakhtar. If only Pep had come in then, you might still have a chance of getting through the Champions League group. You thought you had him as well until he decided he wanted to let his kids have a few more months in Manhattan.
So you let it drag on. You weren't ruthless enough. And that's not like you. Football's supposed to be an ungrateful sport: even that Brian Clough (Two European Cups! Two! More than you! More than Roberto!) said so. Not that you could ever have employed him for more than six months. Actually, you don't employ anybody for more than six months but that's not really the point.
No, you got soft. Because really the only question you should have been asking yourself is, who's going to get you the best results between now and May when Pep's kids might be bored with New York? Is it Roberto with his sad eyes and his boring press conferences? Or is it Rafa, with his tactical obsession and his boring press conferences?
Rafa wouldn't leave his full-backs exposed: the pepper grinder would cover for him. At least that's what you think he meant at that lunch. Rafa would organise them. Rafa would sort them out. Rafa's won the Champions League in spectacularly unlikely fashion: he's basically Roberto with worse dress sense, more pictures of the Wirral at sunrise and more tactics. Especially more tactics.
You're only four points off the top of the table. City and United aren't all that; you saw one of the Alans say that on Match of the Day. You're scoring goals. If Rafa can stop you conceding them you could win the league. You'd like that.
After all, you've never sacked somebody just after they've won the league title, have you? That might be fun.