章節 18: Agent
[Drop some powers, leave a comment or review if you want and enjoy the chapter]
...
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.
章節 19: Agent 2
[Drop some powers, leave a comment or review if you want and enjoy the chapter]
...
Shaking off the flurry of thoughts swirling in his mind, he chuckled softly. "Mr. Mendes, I understand your confidence. After all, you're a leader in this industry. But tell me, why place such trust in a small Championship player like me?"
Mendes met his gaze, unfazed, as if he had anticipated this very question. "Because I watched you lead your team to victory against one of my important clients. I saw the whole match unfold right before my eyes."
Tristan's curiosity piqued. "Were you at yesterday's FA Cup match as well?"
"Absolutely." Mendes nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "From the perspective of a professional football agent, you are a very talented young player. Not every athlete warrants my personal attention."
His tone shifted, seriousness etching itself across his features. "I see a superstar's potential in you. Frankly, the Championship is too small a stage for your talent. Don't you want to play at a higher level? The Champions League awaits you!"
Tristan felt a ripple of intrigue at Mendes' confident assertion. With the winter transfer window closing in less than a week, Mendes had the experience and connections to make such a move happen swiftly. The allure of the Champions League was undeniable—it was the pinnacle every player dreamed of reaching, where fame and fortune awaited those who succeeded.
Tristan maintained his composure outwardly, but internally, he was wrestling with his aspirations. As a professional player, career planning was vital, especially after having been given a second chance in life. The dream of climbing to the summit of football to see the breathtaking views from the top beckoned him.
Yet he knew football was a team sport. No matter how talented he was, success hinged on the strength of his teammates. He envisioned himself fighting for titles alongside players he could rely on. The thought of leaving Leicester, where he had trained and grown, stirred uncertainty within him. He didn't want to be like certain players, renowned for their skills yet lacking silverware—a case in point being Harry Kane, who had scored over 200 Premier League goals without a single title to his name.
'By the way," he mused, "the Audi Cup doesn't count as a trophy!'
With all this in mind, he recognized the importance of a professional agent—someone who could help him navigate the complexities of transfers and negotiations. Although his parents were his biggest supporters, he didn't want to burden them with the business side of football, especially after the failures of his first life. He wanted them to enjoy the fruits of their dreams.
Every profession has its specialists, and Mendes was proving to be the right person at the right time. Tristan recalled Mendes' remarkable reputation—his role as both a father figure and a guiding force in Ronaldo's career. He was known for genuinely caring about his clients, ensuring their choices benefited their careers rather than simply chasing commissions, but at the same time he also involved in some shady business. However, that shouldn't impact him considering how famous he made some of his players and what type of players they were.
Mendes' dedication was evident, as he had taken time from his busy schedule to meet with Tristan. That alone spoke volumes about the value he placed on Tristan's potential.
After a moment's reflection, Tristan lifted his gaze to Mendes, his voice steady. "It's undeniable that your proposal is tempting. But if I were to sign with you, which specific clubs could you help me join?"
Despite asking this, Tristan was not yet ready to leave the club that had nurtured him. He had a vision of being part of the miracle season in 2016. He was wary of Mendes' tactics; he didn't want to feel like a pawn in someone else's game.
Mendes was clearly prepared for this inquiry. "Sporting CP, Porto, and Benfica in the Portuguese Super League; Anderlecht and Club Brugge in Belgium; Ajax and PSV Eindhoven in the Netherlands. With your talent, any of these teams would welcome you."
Tristan nodded, intrigued yet cautious. "But why not any clubs from the top five leagues?"
"Right now, my suggestion is to avoid the biggest clubs in the top leagues. At your age, you should seek out opportunities in secondary leagues where you can get ample playing time and participate in the Champions League. In places like Portugal, the Netherlands, or Belgium, you'll quickly earn the trust of head coaches and could become a key player."
Mendes continued, "By excelling in these leagues and making a mark in the Champions League, you'll attract interest from the biggest clubs, and you can choose your next destination."
Tristan couldn't help but admire Mendes' professionalism and strategy. "This is what true expertise looks like," he thought, but as he glanced at Mahrez sitting beside him, a question surfaced. "What if I decide I want to stay at Leicester City?"
Mahrez's expression brightened at this, though he internally cursed the timing of Mendes' push. He had hoped that by introducing Mendes to Tristan, it would strengthen their bond, not push him away. And Mendes was the agent of a close friend of his, so when he asked to meet Tristan, he didn't think much of it, he just thought he wanted to sign Tristan.
Before Mendes could respond, a phone rang, cutting through the talk. Tristan's heart raced as he pulled out his phone, seeing it was Coach Pearson.
"Excuse me, I have to take this call," he said, stepping outside.
"Coach?" he answered, anxiety creeping into his voice.
"Tristan, where are you?" Pearson's tone was serious.
"I'm just out for coffee. What's up?"
"I have something very important to discuss with you."
Tristan felt a rush of confusion. What could be so urgent? "What is it?"
"Arsenal just sent an email to the club, looking to trigger your release clause and buy you out!"
Tristan paused, surprised. Arsenal? Wenger's interest caught him off guard. It made sense, considering his recent performances and the media buzz surrounding him, especially after eliminating Chelsea, with even Mourinho praising him. He had become a name to watch.
Pearson's voice broke into his thoughts. "Tristan, are you still with me?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Even though Arsenal can negotiate directly with you, the club—and I—hope you'll stay with us. We're ready to offer you a new contract with a higher salary, guaranteed playing time, and your preferred jersey number."
Tristan listened, taking in Pearson's proposal. "Coach, thank you. I really appreciate how highly you and the club regard me. However, I need some time to think."
"Of course," Pearson said, understanding the gravity of the moment.
Returning to the café, Tristan felt the weight of the decision ahead of him. He sat down across from Mendes, who awaited his news. "Mr. Mendes, I just received a call that surprised me."
"Oh? What's that?"
"Arsenal is interested enough to trigger the release clause in my contract and is interested in bringing me to London."
Both Mendes and Mahrez were taken aback. Mendes quickly recovered, spreading his hands in a gesture of affirmation. "Not surprising at all! Your talent was bound to attract attention. Wenger has a keen eye for young talent."
"Mr. Mendes," Tristan began, feeling the need to clarify, "if I become your client, what would your professional advice be in this situation?"
Mendes sat up, understanding the significance of the question. "I'll first consider your wishes and then provide my professional insights. Ultimately, the decision will be yours."
Tristan felt a surge of satisfaction at Mendes' response. However, before he could sign anything with Mendes he'd have to discuss it with his parents and consider other options as well.
...
Leicester City's sports director, Rudkin, and head coach, Pearson, were as anxious as ants on a hot pan. They were waiting for Tristan's reply, but their minds were already racing at the thought of competing clubs potentially swooping in.
Before they could even process it, news of other clubs' interest in Tristan spread like wildfire. With a contract penalty set at only one million pounds, numerous clubs quickly sent transfer emails following Arsenal's lead, eager to snatch him up at that price.
Among the clubs vying for his signature were not just teams from the English Championship but several Premier League heavyweights: Arsenal, Chelsea, Tottenham, Crystal Palace, Southampton, and Swansea. Even bitter rivals Nottingham Forest, currently sitting fifth in the Championship, sent an email, seemingly intent on causing Leicester City trouble. They seized the opportunity to annoy their rivals, taking every chance to get at them.
While some speculated if certain clubs were simply fishing in troubled waters or if staff had leaked the news for personal gain, the media had a field day. Within hours, the revelation that Leicester's young talent, Tristan, was up for grabs due to a surprisingly low penalty fee sent shockwaves through English football.
Fans were left wondering which Premier League club he would choose. Most bystanders believed it was a no-brainer; Tristan would surely seize this chance to elevate his career.
But for Leicester City fans, the news felt devastating. When the "Fox Society," Leicester City's largest fan organization, learned that other clubs were circling, they immediately convened a meeting, ready to create banners and protest outside the club's offices.
Messages flooded Leicester City's official website and Twitter account:
"Keep Tristan!"
"If you let him go, the top management should leave!"
"We want Tristan!"
In addition to overwhelming the club with pleas to retain Tristan, fans left messages on his Twitter:
"Tristan, don't go!"
"We love you, man. Stay!"
"This is your home!"
Adding to the outpouring, Leicester City legend Gary Lineker, who followed Tristan, tweeted his thoughts: "Guys, stay calm; I believe Tristan will make the right decision!"
Time: January 26, 2014, 5:00 p.m.
Location: London.
Tristan arrived in London aboard Mendes' private jet, officially becoming a client of "Gestifute" after a long discussion with his parents, making sure he had control over his moves and life. Gestifute was an agency founded by Mendes, who plays a crucial role in the careers of many professional players, acting as an intermediary between them and clubs. He negotiates contracts to ensure competitive salaries, advises on career management including transfers and endorsements, and coordinates player movements between clubs.
With Mendes, players benefit from his marketing expertise, as he helps secure lucrative endorsement deals, while also offering guidance on their overall development, lifestyle, and public relations. Additionally, Mendes mediates conflicts that may arise, fostering relationships with club officials and creating a network that can greatly benefit his clients. He would take 4% of all commissions, but in return, Mendes would help Tristan become a football superstar. After stepping out of the agency and into a sleek black SUV arranged by Mendes, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation.
Mendes, seated beside him, broke the silence. "Your transfer destination is causing quite a stir online."
Curiosity piqued, Tristan pulled out his phone and opened Twitter. The outpouring of support from fans brought a lump to his throat.
Just then, his phone rang, starting him. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen, and for a moment, he considered ignoring it. However, a sudden impulse made him answer. "Hello?"
"Is this Tristan?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"I'm Wenger, Arsène Wenger."
'Wenger?! How did he know my number?'
The thoughts raced through Tristan's mind.
"Hello? Tristan? Can you hear me?" Wenger's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Yes, Mr. Wenger, I can hear you," Tristan replied, trying to mask his surprise.
"I heard you don't have an agent yet, so I asked someone to get your phone number. I hope this isn't too intrusive."
"Of course not! I feel very honored to receive your call!"
In that moment, Tristan couldn't help but feel flattered. Wenger was a legend, a tactical pioneer who had reshaped the Premier League, and now he was speaking to him directly.
"I'm calling to invite you to join Arsenal."
Tristan's heart raced at the proposition. Could it be? He was so sought after that Wenger himself was on the line.
"Join Arsenal?" he echoed, half in disbelief.
"Yes, I can assure you that you will get playing time in both the Premier League and the Champions League."
Mendes watched Tristan intently, pleased to witness the interest his client was generating. He silently urged Tristan to take the opportunity, impressed by the call's significance.
Tristan, however, shook his head slightly at Mendes, indicating he wasn't ready to discuss it just yet. If Wenger was making this pitch, it deserved a personal response.
"Mr. Wenger," he began, choosing his words carefully, "thank you very much for reaching out. Arsenal is a fantastic club, and I hold you in high regard. However, I've decided to stay at Leicester City. I want to help the team earn promotion to the Premier League."
Wenger fell silent for a moment, perhaps weighing Tristan's determination. Finally, he replied, "I'm sorry to hear your decision, but I respect your choice. Young man, I hope to see you in the Premier League next season."
"Yes, Mr. Wenger, I believe we will meet again!"
After hanging up, Mendes looked at him, impressed. "You handled that well. But let me take the reins next time; after all, I need to earn my commission somehow!"
Tristan laughed, the tension easing as they drove toward the airport.
Time: January 26, 2014, 7:30 p.m.
Location: Leicester.
Meanwhile, at his family's home in Leicester, manager Nigel Pearson sat at the dinner table, his family enjoying a meal. Yet, Pearson's eyes kept darting to his phone beside his plate, a clear sign of his anxiety.
"Are you waiting for someone's call, honey?" his wife asked, noticing his distracted demeanor.
"Tristan. He said he'd think it over, but it's already seven, and I haven't heard anything."
Across the table, his son James asked, "Dad, is Tristan really planning to transfer?"
"I'm not sure. We'll see what he decides."
"If he leaves, does that mean I might get promoted to the first team?"
Pearson frowned at the thought. As much as he hoped for his son to succeed, he couldn't sugarcoat the truth. "Even if Tristan leaves, your current skill level isn't enough to secure a place in the first team!"
James fell silent, understanding his father's seriousness. Pearson, a no-nonsense, old-school coach, believed in hard work and earned success.
After dinner, Pearson picked up his phone, ready to call Rudkin, the club's sports director. "Any updates?"
"No. How about you reach out to him again?"
"Do you think he'll feel pressured if we keep calling?"
"You're the one who brought him to the first team. It shows how much we value him!" Rudkin insisted.
Pearson considered this, finally nodding. "Alright, I'll give him another call!"
Just as he picked up his phone, it rang. The caller ID displayed Tristan's name. Without hesitation, Pearson answered, "Hello, Tristan"
"Coach, it's me."
"Well? What have you decided?"
"I've thought it over. I'm not going anywhere!"
每周推薦票狀態
200+ 推薦票
榜單 
523 推薦票 
段落評論