My Footballing Legend

It was a little past noon when Mauro and Laurence disembarked from the return flight in Tenerife. The air in the airport was warm and dry, smelling of ocean salt and jet fuel. Both men, weary and sore and barely able to think straight from lack of sleep, understood they had returned with something that would either define the club's season or bring about its demise. 

In the arrivals lounge, Mauro took his phone from his pocket. In his inbox were two new emails, both flagged Urgente. One was from São Paulo FC and the other was from Neymar's representative. He looked at Laurence, who could already tell from Mauro's facial expression that he was feeling pressure from something.

"What's up?" Laurence asked, walking slowly at Mauro's side.

Mauro did not answer immediately. He opened the first email and read it silently, then opened the second. After taking a long breath, Mauro handed his phone to Laurence. 

Neymar had signed.

So had Casemiro.

For a moment, they just stood there—two exhausted men with the weight of a club on their shoulders and now, perhaps, something close to a future in their grasp.

_____

The boardroom of the club was serene on that evening. Only Mauro, Laurence and the club's Treasurer, Joaquín Herrera, remained. The papers were spread out across the table, contracts, estimates, transfer fees, agent breakdowns, and the - probably most painful - document of all: the remaining transfer budget.

"So let me get this straight," Joaquín said while pushing up the lenses on his glasses. "You've just committed a large portion of that budget and not only one, but two deals?"

Mauro nodded.

"Neymar's deal, came to 1.9 million euros," he said tapping the folder by it in the pile that was marked Santos FC Transfer Agreement. "Up front. We negotiated a fifteen percent sell on clause and got them to waive the usual friendly match fee. His wage is not high for now, but there are performance bonuses."

Laurence added, "We have put in protection clauses- he has to start in no less than fifteen passes of fit. That was to assuage his dad."

Joaquín wasn't buying it. "And the midfielder from Brazil?"

"Casemiro was €400,000," Mauro said. "São Paulo were generous with us. We have also agreed to pay an additional €100,000 if he plays more than 25 first team matches this year, and a 20% clause in the event of a future sale. And we will pay the modest moving costs for his family - a two bedroom apartment close to the stadium."

Laurence leant forward. "Look. I know this sounds bad. Two underage boys. One from the youth ranks of a Brazilian club, the other a bright-eyed kid. But these are not risk decisions. We are purchasing potential for years to come. And if we don't take the plunge, we'll be relegated before Christmas."

Joaquín sighed and pinched his nose. "And we will be left with... how much?"

Mauro turned the page to the final page and replied glumly. "Seventy five thousand. Eighty at the most."

Joaquín whistled a low note. 

"That's enough for a backup keeper in Tercera," he muttered. "Barely."

Later that night, Laurence sat in his apartment alone, with the window open to the sea and the sound of the street below filling his firm yet tired mind. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his laptop was open to another dozen tabs; scouting reports, training schedules, opponent reviews. But right now, his mind was consumed with one thought:

He had just committed almost every euro in his transfer budget on two kids with no proven experience.

And he had no regrets. But the actual thought would weigh heavily on him.

They had Neymar - who would arrive by mid-July after one last cycle of goodbyes and media obligations; and once his signing was public, the league would be shocked (even though nobody would believe that he would stay). Casemiro would arrive sooner - ready to start preseason on day one - but silent and focused.

Laurence took another deep breath and glanced back down at the squad list.

They had enough.

Just enough.

But now, it was all a matter of whether or not these two boys could become something more than just players on a piece of paper.

He closed the laptop.

Time to build.

Because La Liga - and survival - wouldn't wait for anyone. Not even a miracle.