The buzz around the transfer window grew louder with each passing day, almost as if the tension in the Tenerife sporting office was reverberating through the walls.
With less than a week left before the window slammed shut, the team was still missing the one key player Laurence Gonzales desperately needed: a striker. A true No. 9 who could take on the burden that Natalio had shouldered before his injury. Someone capable of turning those near-misses into solid goals, allowing Griezmann to step back from his role as a makeshift center-forward.
Mauro was pacing in front of a dimly lit projector, juggling phone calls, turning down offers, and refreshing databases every few minutes. His face wore that familiar look of weary frustration that every football director knows all too well.
Every lead seemed to fizzle out for one reason or another. A club wouldn't budge on the price. An agent was asking for wages that were way above Tenerife's budget. A promising player simply didn't want to leave his league.
"Laurence," Mauro sighed, glancing at another message from an agent. "If we don't act fast, we'll head into the season with just Antoine up front. That's… risky."
But Laurence hardly reacted. With his arms crossed and his gaze distant, it was as if he was sifting through thoughts that neither Mauro nor anyone else could grasp. The memories from his earlier life—flashes of players who would eventually become stars—were often hazy. Yet sometimes, a name would cut through the fog with surprising clarity.
This time, he caught one. Not loud, just a name that lingered in his mind for its strength and late bloom.
"Wilfried Bony," he said softly.
Mauro turned, a bit puzzled. "Who?"
"Wilfried Bony," Laurence repeated, standing a little taller, his confidence growing. "I remember him from his time at Vitesse. He's strong, direct, has good movement, and can hold up the ball well. He might not be the most polished player yet, but with the right support, he could really become a force."
Mauro quickly typed away, searching for any scraps of information on him. "He's twenty-four. Just transferred to Sparta Prague earlier this year. Scored a few goals already. He's physically strong—maybe not the fastest, but definitely powerful. His contract isn't too hefty, and the transfer fee wouldn't break the bank." He paused, contemplating. "He fits the profile, more or less."
"He's exactly what we need," Laurence insisted. "He puts in the effort, understands team play, and will bring something fresh to our squad. Make the call. Today."
Mauro studied him for a moment. "You're really that sure?"
Laurence nodded once, and that was all it took.
"Alright," Mauro replied. "I'll reach out to Sparta. Let's see if they're willing to negotiate."
The decision was made. Tenerife was ready to make their move. But the weekend came around quickly, and the league wasn't going to wait for transfers to finalize.
Next up was a trip to Seville. Real Betis away—loud, intense, humid, and always a bit unpredictable.
The Benito Villamarín had a heat that was more about the atmosphere than the actual temperature. The crowd swayed and chanted endlessly, making it tough for the visitors to find their rhythm early on.
The first half was a bit of a mess. Betis pressed hard on the flanks, pushing Cancelo and Grimaldo back further than Laurence would have liked. Without Natalio to stretch the defense and create space, Tenerife's attacks often fizzled out just outside the box. Griezmann put in a solid effort.
Neymar managed to shake off defenders but found himself surrounded every time. Joel tried to drift into the center to help, but that just made things more congested.
Laurence was on the sidelines, giving small instructions without losing his cool, clearly on the lookout for solutions. They had control of the ball, but the game was slipping through their fingers.
The breakthrough finally arrived in the sixty-ninth minute, not thanks to a perfect play but through sheer determination.
Cancelo, who had a rough start, noticed Neymar slipping away from his marker and sent a diagonal pass into the space behind Betis' right-back. Neymar took it smoothly, danced past one defender, and then made a sharp cut inside. Instead of taking a shot himself, he laid it off for Griezmann, who was arriving late. The finish wasn't the cleanest, but it did the job.
Tenerife took the lead, 1–0. A gritty goal in a tough match.
The final minutes turned into a battle for survival. Betis threw everything they had at them—crosses, long balls, and direct runs. Koulibaly dealt with most of it using his strength, while De Vrij mopped up the rest. Kikoto, despite limping for the last ten minutes, refused to leave the pitch and kept plugging the gaps whenever Betis surged into midfield.
When the final whistle blew, a collective sigh of relief swept through the Tenerife bench. Three points on the road. A solid win, but a stark reminder of how much a proper striker could change things.
Back in the dressing room, Laurence shook the sweat from his hair and took a moment for quiet reflection. The victory didn't erase the fact that they were stretching their front line too thin. Neymar, Griezmann, and Joel were carrying more weight than they should be this early in the season.
He was still mulling over how to address it when Mauro walked in, a manila folder in hand and an unusual, satisfied grin on his face.
He didn't say anything right away. Instead, he placed the folder down on the table in front of Laurence.
Inside were the details. The agreement was official.
Player: Wilfried BonyPrevious Club: Sparta PragueAge: 24Fee: €4.5 million, plus €500,000 in performance bonusesContract: Four yearsWages: €17,000 per weekAdditional clauses: goal bonus, European qualification bonus, modest agent fee
Laurence took his time reading through it, double-checking to ensure it wasn't a mistake or just an early draft. But it was clear—it was finished. Bony was officially theirs.
"You really pulled it off," Laurence said softly.
"Sparta wasn't too tough once they realized we could pay everything upfront," Mauro replied. "And the player was eager to test himself in Spain. He mentioned he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this. He liked the project, the idea of getting minutes, and the system we have in place."
Laurence nodded, not out of excitement but out of understanding. This was the right fit. Not a superstar, not a risky gamble, and definitely not a name pulled from wishful thinking. This was a player who could genuinely grow with the team, address their immediate needs, and still have the potential to surpass expectations.
"Great," Laurence said. "He's arriving tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow night," Mauro confirmed. "Medical exams the following morning. If all goes well, he'll be training before the week wraps up."
Laurence glanced out the window toward the training pitch. The team was starting to solidify its core—De Vrij stepping up as a leader, Koulibaly improving with every match, Casemiro and Kikoto learning to work together, Neymar starting to make a consistent impact, and Griezmann becoming indispensable.
And now they had Bony. A forward with strength, discipline, and a skill set that filled the gaps the others had.