The buzzing of the phone was persistent, like a fly trapped in a jar.
Rio Lance rolled over in his bed, groaning as the morning light pierced through his blinds. He squinted at the screen.
Incoming Call: Agent (Quique)
It wasn't technically his agent.. Rio couldn't afford a real one yet but Quique Cárcel, the Sporting Director, sometimes called him directly when things were moving fast.
Rio cleared his throat, trying to sound like he hadn't been asleep for ten hours. "Hello?"
"Rio," Quique's voice was brisk, professional, and slightly excited. "Wake up. We have a situation."
"A situation?" Rio sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Did I get fired? Was the assist revoked?"
"No, you idiot," Quique laughed. "The opposite. Your performance against Atlético made some noise. Not just in Spain."
Rio's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
"I just got off the phone with a scout from England," Quique said. "Wolverhampton Wanderers. Wolves."
Rio blinked. Wolves? The Premier League team?
"They are interested," Quique continued. "They saw your speed data. They saw you burn Witsel. They are looking for a project winger for next season. A loan deal, maybe with an option to buy."
Rio sat there, stunned. The Premier League. The best league in the world.
"But... I'm," Rio whispered, more to himself than to Quique.
"They know you run like a cheetah on caffeine. Anyway, nothing is decided. We told them to wait until the season ends. But I wanted you to know. Eyes are on you."
"Thanks, Quique," Rio managed to say. "That's... wild."
"Don't let it go to your head," Quique warned. "You still have to train today. And Michel is not happy about the yellow card."
The line went dead.
Rio stared at the phone. Wolves.
Hand_Of_King: England? The land of rain and bad food? No! Stay in Spain where the sun shines!
Total_Football_14: The Premier League is fast. It suits you, Rio. But you are not ready. If you go there now, they will eat you alive. Physically, you are a twig.
The_Phenomenon_9: He is right. Premier League defenders are monsters. You need to eat more steak. Maybe two steaks.
Rio got out of bed, his mind racing. It was a nice problem to have, but Cruyff was right. He wasn't ready. He had played twenty minutes of professional football.
....
3 DAYS LATER
MATCH DAY: Valencia vs Girona
The bus ride to the Mestalla was quiet. The tension was palpable. Girona needed points to stay safe from relegation. Valencia needed points for Europe.
...
The game against Valencia was a grind. 0-0 at halftime.. 1-0 to Valencia in the 60th minute.
Rio warmed up on the sideline for thirty minutes. He stretched. He sprinted. He made eye contact with Michel a dozen times.
Put me in, Rio prayed. I can beat Gaya. I can do it. But Michel didn't look at him.
Minute 70. Sub: Portu ON.
Minute 80. Sub: Stuani ON.
Minute 85. Sub: Valery ON.
Rio stood there, wearing his bib, watching the clock tick down.
The final whistle blew.
Valencia 1 - 0 Girona
Rio walked back to the bench, his legs stiff from the warm-up, his heart heavy. He hadn't played a single second.
"Tough luck, kid," Daley Blind said, patting him on the back as they walked to the tunnel. "Game was too tight. Coach needed experience."
"I know," Rio mumbled. "It just sucks."
Zizou_5: Patience. You are a rookie. You cannot expect to play every game.
Rio sighed. Zizou was right, as always. But sitting on the bench while your team lost... it was a special kind of torture.
...
TRAINING GROUND - 3 DAYS LATER
The mood at La Vinya was intense. The final match of the season was approaching. And it wasn't just any match.
Girona vs Real Madrid. At home. At Montilivi.
Real Madrid had already won the league. They were champions. But they were coming to Girona to finish the season with a victory lap.
For Girona, it was about survival. A win guaranteed safety. A draw... maybe. A loss? They were dependent on other results.
Rio was running laps with Mateo.
"Do you think he'll play us?" Mateo asked, panting.
"Against Madrid?" Rio scoffed. "Doubt it. Did you see Vinicius Jr. last week? He destroyed Sevilla. If I have to defend him, I might cry."
"I'd cry too," Mateo admitted. "But imagine... imagine if we beat them."
They finished their laps and gathered around Michel.
The coach looked stressed. He had bags under his eyes.
"Listen up!" Michel barked. "Madrid is coming. They are champions. They are relaxed. They are probably thinking about their vacation in Ibiza."
He paced back and forth. "That is our advantage! We are hungry! We are desperate! I want dogs on the pitch on Sunday! I want you to bite their ankles!"
He looked around the circle. His eyes landed on Rio.
"Lance." Rio straightened up. "Yes, Coach?"
"You didn't play against Valencia," Michel said. "I saw your face. You were pouting."
Rio blushed. "I wasn't pouting. I was... focused."
"Bullshit," Michel smirked. "You were pouting. Good. I want you angry. Because against Madrid, we might need something crazy."
He didn't promise anything. But the hint was there. After training, Rio stayed behind. He walked over to the U16 pitch.
Leo was there. He was wearing the official academy kit now. It looked strange seeing his lazy brother in uniform.
Leo was practicing free kicks. He set the ball down. He took two steps back.
The ball curled beautifully over the wall of mannequins and hit the crossbar.
"Close," Rio called out.
Leo turned around. He looked sweaty. "Hey. The wall is too short. Real players are taller."
"Excuses," Rio grinned.
Leo walked over, grabbing his water bottle. "How was training with the big boys?"
"Intense," Rio said. "We play Madrid on Sunday."
"I know," Leo said. "I got tickets. Dad bought a new shirt. He's very stressed."
"He's always stressed," Rio laughed.
Leo took a sip of water. He looked at Rio carefully. "Are you gonna play?"
"Maybe," Rio shrugged. "Michel hinted at it. But against Vinicius and Rodrygo? It's scary, Leo."
Leo didn't mock him this time. He just nodded. "Yeah. They're good. But..." Leo paused. "Vinicius leaves space behind him. He doesn't like to track back. If you can get the ball... you can run."
"You think?" Rio asked.
"I know," Leo said. "I watched the tape. Madrid's left side is open on the counter. Just... don't touch the ball too much. One touch, then run."
Rio smiled. "Thanks, Coach."
Leo rolled his eyes. "Just don't embarrass the family name. I have a reputation to maintain now."
"You have a reputation for being lazy," Rio shot back.
"Efficiency," Leo corrected. "It's called efficiency."
That night, Rio lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.