Chương 18: Agent
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...
London
Kearney Training Base.
Inside the Team's Tactical Room.
The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as all the coaching staff of Arsenal's first team sat in the dimly lit tactical room. The only illumination came from the projection screen, casting flickering shadows on their faces.
At the head of the table, the tall, thin, white-haired figure of Arsène Wenger—Arsenal's revered head coach, affectionately known as "The Professor"—studied the screen intently. His expression, a mix of curiosity and intrigue, reflected the importance of what was being displayed.
The image on the screen was a compilation of match footage showcasing Tristan, a promising young talent whose recent performances had begun to capture the attention of scouts throughout England.
It had all started when Tristan made his debut in the third round of the FA Cup against Stoke City. An Arsenal scout, tasked with uncovering future stars in the Championship, had been among the first to recognize the boy's exceptional talent. After that match, he hurriedly submitted his preliminary scouting report, sparking interest within the scouting department. Recognizing the potential, the team assigned him to monitor Tristan's progress closely.
For the next month and a half, the scout attended every game—home and away—observing Tristan's evolution on the pitch. With each match, his astonishment grew. He marveled, "England actually has a young player with such creative passing skills?!" It felt like a lifelong treasure hunt had finally borne fruit, leading him to a gem unlike any other.
On the night of the FA Cup match, he had called Wenger with fervor, urging him to secure Tristan's signature before anyone else could. Today's meeting was the culmination of that conversation.
"He has so many good qualities," the scout began, his voice steady yet passionate.
"He's highly motivated in his runs and eager to cooperate with teammates. His broad vision and composed style of play mark him as a potential midfield commander."
He continued, his enthusiasm palpable. "The most remarkable aspect is his passing. Every time he receives the ball, he exudes a sense of danger, as if he could deliver a decisive blow at any moment. He possesses an extraordinary ability to read the game, adapting his style to the flow of play."
Wenger and his staff leaned in closer, absorbing every word.
"Of course," the scout acknowledged, "he has areas for improvement. His physical fitness is average, with speed and strength that are merely decent. This limits his combative capabilities and makes it harder for him to escape from defensive pressure."
"But," he added confidently, "under our tactical system, we can mitigate these shortcomings significantly. He has a great desire to move forward; while his shooting data is limited—he's scored four goals so far—there's certainly potential in that aspect."
"As for defensive work," he concluded, "he prefers to anticipate plays and intercept passing lanes rather than engage in direct confrontations."
After watching the footage and digesting the detailed report, the Arsenal coaching staff unanimously recognized Tristan's potential and combat effectiveness on the field. The air in the room buzzed with excitement and contemplation.
The crucial question loomed over them: Should they act quickly to secure Tristan before the winter transfer window closed?
After 22 grueling rounds of the Premier League, Arsenal stood proudly at the top of the standings, clinching the coveted half-season championship once again. However, the notorious Christmas schedule, infamous for its relentless demands, wreaked havoc on the squad.
In a devastating turn of events, Theo Walcott was ruled out for the season, his pace and energy sorely missed. Jack Wilshere, Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, Aaron Ramsey, and the marquee signing of the summer, Mesut Özil, all succumbed to various injuries, leaving the team in a precarious situation.
Despite these setbacks, Arsenal, known for their technical prowess, still boasted a wealth of midfield talent. Seasoned veterans like Tomas Rosicky, Mikel Arteta, and Mathieu Flamini stood ready to step in and shoulder the load, ensuring the team's competitive edge remained sharp.
Yet, the question lingered in Wenger's mind: Could there ever be such a thing as too many good players? With Tristan's burgeoning talent and youthful vigor, he was undoubtedly a valuable addition to this vibrant Arsenal squad. If they could secure him now to bolster the midfield during this injury crisis, it could be the key to maintaining their lead through the final stretch of the season. Such a transfer would be an investment worth every penny.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, Wenger adjusted his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose, the decision crystallizing in his mind. "What would it take to sign him?" he inquired, recalling the summer when they had splurged a record-breaking £50 million on Özil from Real Madrid to enhance their midfield dynamism.
However, prudence was always at the forefront of Wenger's philosophy. While he recognized the need for reinforcements, he was acutely aware that Arsenal's budget could only stretch so far. In his estimation, if Tristan's price tag exceeded £15 million, it would be a deal too rich for their blood.
At this juncture, the scout who had closely followed Tristan's performances over the past month offered a faint smile, raising a single finger to signal his answer.
Wenger raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. "10 million? For a player who has played less than five games in the Championship? That seems a bit steep."
The room fell silent as the staff exchanged glances, weighing the implications of the potential signing. The promise of Tristan's talent loomed large, but so did the uncertainties surrounding his inexperience. Would ten million pounds truly be a risk worth taking, or a gamble that could cost them dearly?
"I don't think £10 million is expensive at all," one of the assistant coaches argued passionately. "He's the core midfielder who led Leicester City to defeat Chelsea! Plus, he's provided 4 goals and 4 assists in four consecutive matches. Such performance speaks volumes about his abilities!"
As the coaches continued their debate over the merits of the price tag, the scout's smile broadened, sensing the excitement in the room. Finally, he decided to cut through the tension.
"Everyone!" he exclaimed, raising his hands to command their attention.
"You all guessed wrong. I didn't say £10 million. I said £1 million!"
The room fell into stunned silence, with wide eyes staring at him in disbelief. Wenger himself looked puzzled, his brow furrowed.
"£1 million?! How is that possible?" he questioned, unable to wrap his mind around such a low figure.
"Are all the top executives at Leicester City blind to his potential?" another coach chimed in, incredulous.
The scout fought to suppress a grin, clearly relishing the moment. "According to my investigation, the professional contract that Tristan signed with Leicester City when he was 17 included a penalty clause," he explained, his voice steady and confident. "And that amount is only £1 million! So far, he has not renewed his contract with them."
A ripple of disbelief spread across the room as the coaches processed this revelation. A player with such boundless potential for merely £1 million? It was an absolute steal!
Eyes turned toward Wenger, who sat at the head of the table, the weight of the moment resting on his shoulders. This was a golden opportunity—one that could easily slip away if they hesitated.
Without a hint of politeness or delay, Wenger turned decisively to his assistant coach, Steve Bould. "Make an offer to Leicester City immediately!" he commanded, his voice firm and unyielding.
The urgency in the room was palpable. Everyone understood that if they had learned about Tristan's contract clause, so too had other Premier League clubs, and they would be eager to swoop in and snatch him up.
"Right away!" Steve Bould responded, bolting from the tactical room to send an email to Leicester City Football Club.
With Arsenal's owner Stan Kroenke having granted Wenger significant power in transfer dealings to placate the revered manager since the Emirates Stadium funding, the authority to pursue this potential gem was now firmly in his hands.
As the team awaited news, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Securing Tristan for such a nominal fee could be a transformative moment for Arsenal—one that would bolster their midfield and inject fresh energy into their title challenge.
Therefore, as long as Wenger wanted to buy a player and the price was right, he would receive the greatest support from the club. The fact that the deal was only £1 million made it even easier. Wenger wouldn't even need to consult with club executives to make such a decision.
Since the TMS system had been officially implemented in 2010, most transfer documents had shifted to electronic means. Email had become the norm, relegating fax machines to obsolescence. The last-minute cancellation of a transfer due to faxed documents was merely a convenient scapegoat for what had gone wrong in negotiations.
Time: January 26, 2014, 2:30 p.m.
Location: Belvoir Base, Leicester.
Jon Rudkin, the club's sports director, was diligently working in his office when a notification pinged, indicating a new email had arrived. Curious, he opened his mailbox and was taken aback to see it was from Arsenal Football Club.
The content was straightforward but shocking: Arsenal wanted to trigger the penalty clause in Tristan's contract, offering just £1 million to bring him to London.
"Tristan? Penalty? One million?!"
Rudkin's expression darkened as the implications hit him. As the club's sports director, he was acutely aware of the exceptional talent they had cultivated through their youth system. Leicester City's recent successes were significantly tied to the performances of their 18-year-old star.
The seriousness of the email weighed heavily on him. He swiftly reached for the landline phone on his desk, urgency overtaking him. "Anna, help me find the paper copy of the contract signed between Tristan and the club! Send it to my office immediately!"
After instructing his secretary, he pressed the shortcut key to connect with the team coach's office. "Hello, Jon?"
"Nigel, I need you in my office immediately. It's urgent!"
Moments later, Nigel Pearson, the head coach, burst through the door, concern etched on his face. "What's going on?"
"A club has made an offer for our player!"
Stunned, Pearson froze momentarily before processing the information. "Has anyone made a lower offer?"
Rudkin nodded, his expression grave. "That's right. And we can't let this happen."
Pearson's face hardened. "We can never agree to this! He is the present and future of our club! No matter the price, we cannot let him go!"
"Calm down!" Rudkin raised his hand to interrupt Pearson's rising agitation. He spread his hands, attempting to ease the tension. "Nigel, I feel the same way. The club doesn't plan to sell Tristan either. But this isn't just about what we want; Arsenal wants to trigger the penalty clause in his contract and take him away directly!"
Pearson's brow furrowed in concern. "What kind of penalty clause?"
Rudkin sighed, knowing the answer would only deepen their predicament. "Many young players have a liquidated damages clause in their first professional contracts. Some famous players do, too."
"Liquidated damages? How much is his clause?" Pearson asked, his voice laced with anxiety.
Rudkin raised a finger helplessly. "Only £10 million!"
"£10 million? You wish. It's £1 million!"
"£1 million?!" Pearson exclaimed, disbelief coloring his tone. His voice sharpened with incredulity. "That's shockingly low!"
"Yes, the contract is here. Take a look yourself."
Pearson took the paper contract and read it, his heart sinking as the reality set in. After several readings, he had to accept this harsh truth. They had let it slip through their fingers. In the excitement of Tristan's stellar performances, they had neglected to renew his contract.
Regret surged through him, but there was no time for blame; they needed to act fast. Their top priority was clear: they had to safeguard their most promising asset. For Leicester City, Tristan wasn't just another player; he was a product of their youth academy, a beacon of hope for the club's future.
Once he is lost, the club will inevitably face strong opposition from the fans!
Especially when he is bought by another club for such a meager price of one million pounds. Rudkin could almost envision the chaos: fans gathering outside the stadium, holding signs that read "No Sell, No Peace!" or flooding the official website with insults aimed at the management. The thought of losing their shining star sent a wave of anxiety through him.
From the perspective of Leicester City, they had to do everything possible to keep Tristan. The implications of his departure were dire.
"Do you think we have a chance to convince Tristan to stay?" Rudkin asked, his brow furrowed with concern as he glanced at Pearson.
Pearson's jaw tightened. He wanted to respond with an enthusiastic "yes," but the reality of the situation loomed heavy. Arsenal, a Premier League giant, was on the other side of this equation. If he were in Tristan's shoes, he'd probably jump at the opportunity.
"The opponent is Arsenal, so the chances are slim," he said, trying to maintain composure. "But we have to try!"
With that, Rudkin turned towards his desk, rifling through the papers in a frenzy until he found the contract. He took a deep breath before continuing. "We have to act fast. If Arsenal triggers that clause, there's little we can do. But if we can offer him a new deal—"
"New deal?" Pearson cut in, the frustration boiling over. "What good does that do us if he's already tempted by the likes of Wenger? We're fighting an uphill battle here."
Rudkin held up a hand to calm him. "I know. But remember, it's ultimately Tristan's choice. As long as he doesn't agree to the transfer, we still have a chance."
The tension in the room was palpable as Pearson sank back in his chair, his thoughts racing. "One million pounds… How did we let it come to this? We should have renewed his contract long ago. It's our fault for not recognizing his potential."
...
Meanwhile, Tristan, enjoying a rare day off, received Mahrez's unexpected invitation with a mix of curiosity and excitement. When he arrived at the coffee shop, he was taken aback by the sight of a sharply dressed man waiting alongside Mahrez.
"Riyad, who is this?" Tristan asked, eyeing the stranger.
Mahrez gestured toward the man, who stood, extending his right hand with a confident smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hale. My name is Jorge Mendes, a football agent." He handed Tristan a sleek black business card.
Tristan's eyebrows shot up. "Mendes? I know you," he replied, shaking the agent's hand. "You're a big shot in the football world."
Mahrez smiled, seemingly pleased. "You said you didn't have an agent, so I thought it might be a good idea."
Tristan felt a mix of apprehension and intrigue. Mendes leaned in, his expression earnest. "Tristan, I'm here because I see your potential. Do you want to play football on a higher stage? In the Champions League?
"Imagine having your own private jet, luxury cars, and a mansion for your family. Just let me represent you, and I will help you achieve all of this."
Tristan shifted in his seat, considering the weight of Mendes's words. The future loomed large before him, full of possibilities—and risks.
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