บท 24: Convo
A black Mercedes glided through the streets of Dortmund, its tinted windows shielding the occupants from the curious gazes of passersby. Luka sat in the back, flanked by Jorge Mendes and another agent from his agency.
"Excited, Luka?" Jorge asked, a knowing smile on his face.
Luka nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I can't believe this is happening. A sponsorship deal with Sprite... this type of money..."
Jorge chuckled. "And we managed to negotiate it down to 4 months for €170,000. Not bad for your first deal, eh?"
Luka's eyes widened. "That's... that's incredible. And you're only taking 10%?"
"That's my rate," Jorge confirmed. "But remember, Luka, this is just the beginning. This deal is on the low end because you don't have many requirements. Your big deals in the future will be multi-million euro contracts."
Luka leaned back, his mind reeling at the prospect. "I can't wait," he breathed.
Jorge's expression turned serious. "Listen, Luka. I've noticed something about you. You're more mature when money isn't in the picture. Don't let this sudden influx of cash change that. It would be better to put most of it away for the future."
Luka nodded, but inside, his mind was racing. 'Maybe I can just use this one to buy stuff and save the others,' he thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "I'll talk to my father about it. He's smart with these things."
As they pulled up to the Sprite headquarters, Luka took a deep breath. This was it - his first sponsorship deal.
They were greeted at the door by a team of enthusiastic Sprite representatives, all smiles and handshakes. Luka found himself ushered into a large, modern conference room, its walls adorned with Sprite advertisements featuring various athletes and celebrities.
"Welcome, Luka!" A woman in her mid-thirties, with a sharp suit and an even sharper smile, stepped forward. "I'm Sarah Thompson, Head of Sports Partnerships at Sprite. We're thrilled to have you on board."
Luka shook her hand, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Thank you for having me. I'm excited to work with Sprite."
They settled around the large conference table, and Sarah began to outline the details of the partnership. Luka listened intently, occasionally glancing at Jorge for reassurance.
"So, as we discussed with your team," Sarah continued, "this is a four-month deal. Your primary responsibilities will include appearing in a series of print ads, participating in a social media campaign, and making a public appearance at one Sprite-sponsored event."
Luka nodded, his mind already imagining the possibilities.
"Now, let's go through the contract," Sarah said, sliding a thick document across the table.
For the next hour, they pored over the contract, with Jorge explaining various clauses and negotiating minor points. Luka found his attention wandering at times, the legal jargon flying over his head. But he snapped back to attention when it came time to sign.
With a slightly shaky hand, Luka picked up the pen and signed his name on the dotted line. Just like that, he was officially a Sprite ambassador.
"Congratulations, Luka!" Sarah beamed, shaking his hand once more. "Now, let's get you into the studio for some preliminary shots, shall we?"
They moved to a large photography studio within the building. Luka found himself surrounded by lights, cameras, and a team of stylists who fussed over his hair and outfit.
"Okay, Luka," the photographer, a laid-back guy in his forties named Mike, called out. "Let's start with some simple poses. Just hold the Sprite can and give us your best smile."
Luka did as instructed, feeling a bit awkward at first. But as the shoot progressed, he began to relax, even enjoying himself a little.
"Great, now let's get some action shots," Mike directed. "Pretend you're on the pitch, about to take a shot, but with the Sprite can instead of a ball."
Luka couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it, but he played along, mimicking his usual pre-shot stance with the Sprite can held high.
After what felt like hundreds of photos, they moved on to filming a short video clip for social media. Luka had to deliver a simple line: "Stay cool under pressure with Sprite."
It took several takes for him to nail the delivery without stumbling over his words or breaking into nervous laughter. By the end, he had a newfound respect for actors who made this look easy.
As the day wound down, Luka found himself back in the conference room, shaking hands with the Sprite team once more.
"Thank you for your time today, Luka," Sarah said warmly. "We're looking forward to a fruitful partnership."
Luka nodded, a genuine smile on his face. "Thank you for this opportunity. I'll do my best to represent Sprite well."
As they left the building and climbed back into the Mercedes, he slumped back in his seat, letting out a long breath.
Jorge patted him on the shoulder. "You did well in there, kid. How do you feel?"
Luka grinned. "Tired, but... good. Really good. It's all starting to feel real now, you know?"
Jorge nodded knowingly. "This is just the beginning, Luka. Remember what we talked about earlier. Be smart with this money. It might seem like a lot now, but trust me, it's nothing compared to what's coming if you play your cards right."
Luka nodded, but in his mind, he was already picturing the new shoes he could buy, the gifts he could send home to his family. 'Just this once,' he thought to himself. 'I'll be more responsible with the next deal.'
Back in his apartment, Luka immediately transferred a significant portion of his new earnings to his family. He barely had time to set his phone down before it started ringing, his mother's name flashing on the screen.
"Mama?" Luka answered, a smile already forming on his face.
"Luka, dragi moj!" his mother's voice came through, thick with emotion. "Što si to učinio? This money... it's too much!"
Luka could hear the tears in her voice, and he felt a lump forming in his own throat. "Mama, please. You've done so much for me. Let me do this for you and tata."
"Ali, Luka..." his mother began, before dissolving into happy sobs. "Hvala ti, sine moj. Thank you, my son. This will help us so much."
In the background, Luka could hear his father's voice. "Luka…wow," he said gently. A moment later, his father's deep voice came through the speaker.
"Luka," he said, his tone measured but warm. "Thank you for this, truly. We're proud of you, son."
Luka felt his chest swell with pride and love. "I'm glad I can help."
After the call ended, Luka sat on his couch, a wide smile on his face. The feeling of being able to help his family, to give back after all they'd sacrificed for him, was indescribable. It felt even better than scoring a goal or winning a match.
The next morning, Luka headed to training with a spring in his step. As he walked onto the training grounds, he mentally reviewed his schedule. Dr. Braun had limited his gym time recently, so today was focused on field work.
After going through the team's possession drills, Luka decided to work on his volleys during his individual training time. He spent an hour practicing different types of volleys - side volleys, overhead kicks, half-volleys - each repetition bringing a satisfying thud as his foot connected with the ball.
By the time he finished, sweat was pouring down his face, but he felt accomplished. He was improving, and he could already imagine using these skills in the next match.
Back at his apartment that evening, Luka found himself researching ways to improve his recovery and performance. He'd heard some of his teammates talking about various gadgets and supplements, and his curiosity was piqued.
He came across a website selling recovery boots - compression sleeves that supposedly helped with blood flow and muscle recovery. "€500?" he muttered to himself, before remembering his new financial situation. "Oh right, I can actually afford this now."
Next, he found a special blue light designed to regulate sleep patterns. "€200... not bad," he nodded, adding it to his cart.
As he scrolled, more items caught his eye: a high-tech foam roller, a percussion massage gun, a sleep tracking ring. Before he knew it, his cart was full of recovery gadgets.
"Wait," he paused, his finger hovering over the 'Place Order' button. "Maybe I should ask Dr. Braun about these first."
Then, almost as an afterthought, Luka found himself googling "age to buy and drive a car in Germany." His eyes widened as he read the results.
"Seventeen to start learning... eighteen to get a full license," he murmured. A grin spread across his face as he realized he could start the process now.
Excitement bubbling up inside him, Luka opened a new tab and started researching driving schools in Dortmund. As he scrolled through the options, his mind wandered to the type of car he might want to buy once he got his license.
"Maybe something sporty... but not too flashy," he mused. "Like a BMW?"
As the night wore on, Luka found himself deep in a rabbit hole of car reviews and driving tips. It was well past midnight when he finally closed his laptop, his head spinning with information about horsepower, fuel efficiency, and safety ratings.
Lying in bed, Luka couldn't help but marvel at how much his life had changed. From worrying about making the team to considering which luxury car to buy - it was a lot to take in.
"Stay grounded," he reminded himself, echoing Jorge's words from earlier. "The real work is still on the pitch."
The next morning, Luka woke up early, immediately checking his sleep tracking app. He nodded with satisfaction at the data - he'd managed a solid eight hours of deep sleep. With the game against Union Berlin just three days away, he knew he had some time to rest but also to put in extra work.
After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruits, prepared according to his nutritionist's meal plan, Luka headed to his home gym for a light workout. He focused on stretching and core exercises, careful not to overexert himself before training later that day.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in England, David Zorić sat in his living room, his eyes glued to the television. The Football Focus segment was on, and to his amazement, they were discussing his son, Luka.
"And now, let's turn our attention to the phenomenon that is Luka Zorić," Gary Lineker's voice came through the speakers. "Rio, what do you make of these statistics?"
Rio Ferdinand leaned forward, excitement evident in his voice. "Gary, these numbers are incredible. In just nine appearances across all competitions, he's scored ten goals and provided twelve assists. That's world-class output from a 17-year-old."
David shook his head in disbelief. "My son," he muttered, still struggling to process the reality of Luka's success. He thought back to the countless times he'd told Luka to give up on his football dreams, to focus on something more "practical." A wave of guilt washed over him.
As the pundits continued to dissect Luka's performances, David's mind wandered to the recent changes in their family's life. The substantial amount of money Luka had sent home was a game-changer. They could finally pay off the car loan that had been hanging over their heads for years. Marija, his wife, wouldn't need to work two jobs anymore.
His thoughts then turned to Emily, Luka's half-sister. The product of a regrettable affair, Emily had always been a source of tension in the family. But Luka had never treated her any differently, always doting on his little sister regardless of their complicated family history.
David sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew he needed to have a serious conversation with Luka. As an "old-timer" who'd seen countless talented youngsters come and go, he was all too aware of how fame and fortune could change a person.
George Best, Paul Gascoigne - brilliant on the pitch but ultimately undone by the excesses that came with their success. He didn't want that for Luka.
Reaching for his phone, David hesitated for a moment before dialing Luka's number. It rang several times before Luka's voice came through.
"Dad?" Luka sounded surprised. It wasn't often that David called him first.
"Luka," David began, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I've been watching you on the telly. They're saying some impressive things about you."
There was a pause before Luka responded, "Oh, um, thanks, Dad."
David could hear the mixture of pride and uncertainty in his son's voice. He pressed on, "Listen, son. I know I haven't always been... supportive of your football. And I'm sorry for that. But I need you to know something important."
"What is it, Dad?" Luka asked, curiosity evident in his tone.
David took a deep breath. "Luka, you're doing well. Really well. But I've seen how this goes. The fame, the money... it can change a person. I don't want that to happen to you."
"Dad, I-" Luka started, but David cut him off.
"Let me finish, son. You need to stay grounded, stay humble. The way you should ignore criticism is the same way you should handle praise. Don't let it get to your head. Just believe in yourself and keep working hard."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Luka finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Thanks, Dad. That... that means a lot coming from you."
David felt a lump forming in his throat. He coughed to clear it. "Well, just remember that. Your mum and I, we're proud of you. Emily too. Just... don't forget where you came from, alright?"
"I won't, Dad. I promise," Luka replied.
As they said their goodbyes, David felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He'd said what needed to be said.
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