Danny wavered but didn't give his immediate consent.
That was fine. I hadn't expected to persuade him in a single day.
"Nottingham?"
I sought him out again the next day. Unlike yesterday, Max, who had accompanied me on this business trip, only opened his eyes in surprise after we arrived at the club's clubhouse.
I hadn't bothered to explain beforehand who we were here to recruit, as I'd been focused entirely on preparing the scouting report.
"The player we're here to sign is at Nottingham Forest?"
"He's a potential recruit, so the Head Coach needs to assess him firsthand."
"Of course, seeing him with your own eyes is better than watching videos, but what's confusing me is whether we're really targeting a player from Nottingham."
"There's no need to be confused. It's accurate."
"This guy? Nottingham is a team that keeps bouncing between the Premier League and the Championship, right?"
In short, our team is in a completely different league.
"I thought you wouldn't know much about English football since you've only been in Germany, but you've clearly done your homework. Good attitude, Coach. Keep pushing forward."
"I don't understand. How are you planning to sign a Nottingham player?"
"You were quiet the whole drive here, so why are you suddenly acting so defeated?"
"I thought we were going to Notts County. They're a League Two team, right?"
"What use would we have for a player from League Two?"
"...You do know we're a League Two team, right?"
"We'll be in the Premier League in four years."
Max pressed his forehead, as if he didn't have the energy to argue. Even someone as proud as him struggled to respond to my words.
Since we had an appointment, we easily gained access to the clubhouse.
"Wait, where are you going?" Max suddenly shouted.
"I'm here to see a player."
"If you want to see a player, you should go to the training grounds. The players are running drills over there right now."
"He's not there."
"What do you mean? How could a player not be at the training grounds?"
Max frowned sharply.
The neatly organized office showed people in casual workout clothes, not team uniforms, between the empty desks.
"This is the coaches' office, isn't it?"
"He's here."
"Why would a player be in the coaches' office...?"
Ah, that's what you're curious about.
"He's retiring next month and preparing to transition into a coaching role."
"...This is insane."
Leaving the dumbfounded Max behind, I waved to the man frowning over paperwork at a nearby desk.
"Danny Scott. It's Eric."
"...You really came again today."
Danny Scott gave me a weary smile, then glanced around the room.
"First, um, come this way."
"You seem busy?"
"Yeah, well. My player contract still has a month left, so I haven't officially signed as a coach yet, but I'm already working. I never realized how much there was to do just preparing for preseason training camp when I was a player."
"Then wouldn't it be better to stay ignorant? Keep playing."
"You're really persistent."
His tone was exasperated, but his expression betrayed a hint of amusement.
And why wouldn't it? At this complicated moment, when he was admitting to himself that he was past his prime and resigning himself to ending his long playing career...
If someone still believed in his skills and supported him, and if I could, I would wholeheartedly support him.
"The offer remains the same as before. Play for our team."
"..."
"It would be a waste of your talent to retire like this. Our team needs you."
"Hmph. I'm sorry, but I've made up my mind."
"Hmm."
I turned and pointed to Max, who was standing awkwardly nearby.
"Introduce yourself. This is our team's Head Coach."
"Maximilian."
"Ah, yes. Danny Scott."
"Max mentioned something. He asked if we're such a terrible team that we'd resort to signing washed-up, retired players, even though we're only in League Two."
"!"
I gave Max a subtle nod. His eyes screamed, "Hey! When did I say that?!" but I ignored him. Danny Scott's icy glare was directed at Max, not me.
"You're right. We may be a weak team, but we're not desperate enough to sign retired players. The market is full of free agents, and we could even consider loan options."
"..."
"Max is my Head Coach, and in my opinion, the greatest tactical genius I know."
At this, Danny Scott, who had been silent, glanced at Max.
A hint of interest flickered in his cold eyes. Suddenly, the atmosphere became awkward, and Max, unsure of what to do, shifted his gaze nervously behind his horn-rimmed glasses.
"That's why I actively follow my Coach's advice. He's the only one I truly trust in terms of skill."
At these words, the look in Max's eyes subtly changed as he glanced at me.
Having said this much, Danny looked back and forth between Max and me with a complex expression.
"As I mentioned earlier, we're not such a desperate team that we'd resort to signing retired players. My desire to bring you here isn't because you're a retired player, but because you're genuinely an exceptional talent."
"..."
"But my Head Coach has serious doubts about my assessment."
Danny let out a long sigh.
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
"Prove that my eyes haven't deceived me."
"!"
Danny looked momentarily bewildered before frowning.
"Prove it? You want me to show you how I play?"
"Yes."
"Wait a minute. I'm retired. Retired. There's no reason for me to show you how I play—"
Just then, Max interjected, "Let's go. What's the point of recruiting a retired player anyway?"
"!"
Danny's expression instantly darkened.
He snorted and stood up.
"I refuse to be remembered by the Tactical Genius you admire so much as just another washed-up retiree. I'll show you. I'll show you how I play."
While Max was talking with Danny, a scrimmage was in full swing on the training field outside.
Danny approached the coach overseeing the training session and engaged in a brief conversation.
Moments later, Danny donned a blue scrimmage vest and stepped onto the field.
"I knew he had a strong sense of pride," Max remarked.
"Is there any professional athlete who's played for nearly twenty years without pride?"
"...True enough."
"Pros are pros. And the mental fortitude that sustains them is pride. Players without pride? They're weeded out before they even make it to the pros. Even if they do, they don't last long. That's just how the game works."
Max's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"Is that something only the coaching staff can see?"
"It's not something a power analyst who only watches videos and game footage can understand."
"I've seen plenty of hopeless coaches. You seem a bit different."
You can't grasp the full scope of this world just by coaching for a year or two.
Even within football, every club, league, tournament, country, playing style, and position operates differently.
"It won't be easy to become a Head Coach. You'll need at least the kind of insight you have."
A hint of admiration mixed with acknowledgment.
I couldn't help but smile at this small recognition from the football prodigy I'd always considered my lifelong rival.
It won't be easy right away.
It takes ten or more years of coaching to truly master it.
"So you're going to provoke his pride, try to lure him in? By saying things like, 'You're not dead yet,' or 'You're still pretty good,' to boost his ego and bring him over?"
"No. I'm going to crush his self-esteem first."
Max narrowed his eyes.
His confusion was evident behind his thick-rimmed glasses.
But instead of immediately questioning me, he seemed to be pondering the answer himself.
That's Max's style.
He seeks out answers himself, ultimately finding his own, even greater solutions.
But he was still young.
Well, not exactly young—he was already in his forties.
However, compared to the tactical genius managers I knew, he was still remarkably young and lacked experience.
Grow quickly.
Within four years.
Only then would he be truly helpful.
I shifted my gaze to Danny, who was lightly jogging as if warming up.
Most players cling to the belief that they can still play.
I had treated him as a player. I'm not a fool.
I knew how absurd my words must have sounded to these strangers. Yet Danny never got up to leave.
Because I treated him as a player.
Because I had treated him as a player.
He had no choice but to respect a conversation partner who preserved his pride.
But today, by bringing Max and openly wounding his pride, I had crossed a line.
He openly contradicted my opinion, which had just acknowledged him.
It was a sucker punch. To deny someone who had just validated you? That was even more offensive than outright insults.
"I don't get it. Do you really think that player is worth it?"
"What do you think?"
"The moment he decided to retire, he was finished as a player. It's over. He stopped believing in himself and gave up, putting an end to his career."
He still looked unconvinced.
Come to think of it... when he abruptly stood up to leave at the end, he wasn't trying to help me out of a tight spot.
He really just didn't like the idea?