My Footballing Legend

The sun had barely crested the Atlantic when Mauro Pérez stepped into Laurence González's office. His suit was immaculate as always, but his face betrayed something less certain — not fear, not triumph. Tension.

The kind that lived between a door half-open and half-shut.

"They've submitted a formal offer," Mauro said quietly, closing the door behind him.

Laurence looked up from his notes. "Who?"

Mauro didn't answer. Not right away. Instead, he slid a paper across the desk — a printed fax, still faintly warm from the machine. Laurence scanned the header, then the numbers.

His jaw stiffened.

Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior.Transfer Offer: €25,000,000.Additional performance bonuses tied to goals, trophies, appearances.January move. Immediate.

Laurence leaned back slowly, his voice a whisper. "Twenty-five million."

"They're not playing games," Mauro said. "Rosell is backing it personally. They want to lock him down before Madrid enters the frame."

Laurence gazed out the window at the tranquil blue of the Atlantic. Funny how the world could appear so peaceful when at the same time, a tempest had been brewing inside the chamber.

'And the board?'

Mauro blew out. Separate. They're lured. You know the book covers. These types of windfalls give us two, maybe three years of runway. Childhood investment. Facility improvements. Debt assistance. They're already counting!

Laurence rose. Schedule a board meeting.

They'll crave your input.

'They'll figure it out.' He was already walking toward the door. "Neymar?"

"Still at the training ground."

I'll inform him.

______

That afternoon — practice field

The players were cooling down after completing drills. Neymar sat on the bench, tying his boots, still with wet hair. It still smelled like grass and sunblock. He raised his eyes as Laurence came up.

Mister.

Laurence hopped over and sat next to him. No clipboard. Not one tactic. Just talk.

"They've come."

Neymar raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Barcelona."

The young forward blinked, not surprised. It was as if he had been expecting this moment all along.

"They made a formal offer this morning."

"How much?"

"Twenty-five million."

Neymar let out a small whistle and nodded. "Makes sense."

Laurence studied him closely. "Do you want to go?"

Neymar paused, his hands resting on his knees. "I want the Champions League. I want those big nights. Wembley. The Bernabéu. I want to play with the best and against the best."

Laurence nodded slowly. "And you will. But not just yet."

Neymar turned to him, a hint of skepticism in his eyes.

"With Tenerife?" he said, half-challenging.

Laurence stood firm. "Just stay for six more months. That's all I'm asking. Give me that, and I promise you — we'll be in Europe next season."

A heavy silence hung in the air.

"You're asking me to stay for hope," Neymar said. "For a dream."

"I'm asking you to stay," Laurence replied softly, "because you've already built something here. You're not just a star, Ney. You're the heart of this team. The face of it. If you leave now, you'll just be another name on a long list of talents Barcelona snatched up. But if you stay and help us build this — you'll become something truly special."

He paused for effect.

"A legend."

Neymar didn't respond immediately. His gaze drifted toward the training pitch, where the last of the players were filtering out. Then, quietly, he said, "I'll talk to my father."

_____

The room was thick with the scent of aged wood and an undercurrent of tension. Seven directors, each with their own unique tempers and ambitions, gathered around a long table that gleamed with a bureaucratic polish. Mauro stood quietly off to the side, observing.

Without any introduction, Laurence walked in.

"We've gone over the offer," one of the older members started. "It's a significant amount. It's straightforward. And it could ensure our financial security."

"I get it," Laurence replied. "And I'm aware of what this could mean for the club."

A moment of silence hung in the air.

"But I need you to consider what we might lose."

He stepped forward, his voice steady yet firm.

"If we sell Neymar now, we revert to who we used to be — small. Cautious. Invisible. We might survive, perhaps even stabilize. But we'd sacrifice something we've only just begun to reclaim: relevance."

He locked eyes with each director.

"Right now, when neutral fans catch highlights, they stop for us. Kids in Barcelona are sporting Tenerife kits. We've inserted ourselves into the conversation — thanks to Neymar. If we let him go now, we're giving up that spotlight. We're handing it back to the giants."

The finance director shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "But with this money, we could reinvest—"

"You can't replace magic with money," Laurence countered. "You replace it with belief. With stories. With history. Neymar is providing us that. Not just goals. Not just points. A narrative."

He turned to the president.

"I can't promise miracles. But I can promise this — if you let me keep Neymar until the end of the season, I'll deliver Europe. I'll bring you Thursday nights in Portugal. Wednesdays in Prague. Maybe even Tuesdays in London."

A heavy silence followed. Then the club president, Miguel, leaned in, fingers interlaced.

"Do you really believe we can achieve that?"

"I do," Laurence affirmed. "And more importantly — so does he."

Next morning, the club released a statement:

Tenerife confirm that Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior will remain at the club for the remainder of the 2010–11 season. The player is a central part of the team's project and is not for sale.