“It shouldn’t be too much. We’re not trying to set up a big club like Manchester United or Liverpool—just enough to cover the basic expenses. Right now, we have the support of the Wimbledon Independent Supporters Association (WISA). If we all chip in and set up a trust, elect people to manage it, and use it as the club’s investor, then the club will truly belong to us fans!” Emily Clark grew more and more excited. She jumped down from her stool, stood in front of everyone, and spoke loudly. “As long as you put in money, you’re a member of the club’s board. Everyone gets a vote, and any major decision about the club’s future will be decided by our own votes. No more rich people interfering with us, and no one will ever be able to take the club from our hands again!”

A group of drinkers, all older than Emily Clark, raised their hands along with her, their eyes shining. They were nothing like the dejected, miserable fans Brian Carter had seen just a day before. Even though they were the same people, they were now clearly captivated by the vision Emily Clark had painted.

“That’s a great idea!” Boss John was the first to react, slapping the bar hard. “Let me know when it’s time to donate, Emily Clark.”

“That’s right! We’ll raise the money ourselves and set up a club that truly belongs to us!”

“The club executives always say the fans are the real owners, but that’s just nonsense! If we’re the owners, why could that bastard Winkelman do whatever he wanted to Wimbledon?”

“If I donate more, can I get a permanent seat behind the goal in the stands?”

…

Brian Carter listened to their hopeful discussions as he kept busy, handing out drinks one by one. He really hadn’t expected that after this girl arrived, just a few words from her would completely transform the atmosphere in the bar. No wonder people called her the “Dons Princess”…

Everyone sipped their fresh beer, returning to their seats to imagine what kind of future a club entirely their own might have. At last, no one was left around Emily Clark.

She looked at the Chinese bartender standing in front of her and raised her empty glass to him.

Brian Carter understood what she meant—she wanted another drink. The glass was big, about the size of a bottle. He really hadn’t expected a girl to be able to hold her liquor so well.

So he took the glass and refilled it for Emily Clark.

“What’s your name, Chinese boy?” Emily Clark asked, leaning on the bar.

“Brian Carter.” Brian Carter set the not-yet-full glass aside, planning to wait a minute before topping it off—Guinness tastes richer and smoother that way.

“Do you like playing football, Chu?”

Caught off guard by the question, Brian Carter almost knocked over Emily Clark’s glass.

“Do I really look like someone who likes playing football?” Embarrassed in front of a girl, Brian Carter retorted a bit irritably.

Emily Clark smiled but didn’t answer his question. Instead, she changed the subject: “I’m pretty popular here.”

“I can tell,” Brian Carter replied casually.

“‘Dons Princess’ and all that, they came up with those names. I was still a kid back then. The first time I came here I was only twelve, brought by my dad…”

“Wait a second.” Brian Carter interrupted Emily Clark. “The law says you can’t enter a bar under the age of fourteen…”

“I was a special case.” Emily Clark brushed a strand of golden hair from her face. “When I was six, I went to Wembley with my dad to watch that year’s FA Cup final—we were playing Liverpool. We won. It was an incredible match, a huge upset that no one expected. There were lots of reporters at the stadium, and a photojournalist captured the moment my dad and I cheered for the championship. It ended up in a magazine, and that’s how I became famous. I was chubbier as a kid, looked like a doll. I became a celebrity among Wimbledon fans, and people started calling me the ‘Dons Princess.’ Honestly, I really like that nickname… because I am a Wimbledon fan, I am a Don.”

“Dons” is what Wimbledon fans call themselves. Many football clubs’ fans have a nickname for their group. For example, Inter Milan fans call themselves “Nerazzurri,” which is Italian for “blue and black”; Juventus fans call themselves “Juventini”—you can tell from the name, “-tini” is a noun suffix, meaning “people of Juve”; Liverpool fans call themselves “KOP,” which is the name of the home supporters’ stand at Anfield, and over time, Liverpool fans started using it to refer to themselves. There are many similar cases. Wimbledon fans call themselves “Dons.” This comes from the last three letters of “Wimbledon” in English, with the “s” making it plural—after all, there’s never just one fan.