Starting With Real Madrid

Western suburbs of Paris, France.

The Rueil-Malmaison district is home to many African immigrants, and for some, it's considered a blemish on the otherwise glamorous image of Paris.

A black boy stepped out of a small bungalow and headed east along a narrow street.

He wasn't tall. His skin was dark, his head shaved, and he wore a plain red jersey that looked especially out of place in this neighborhood.

In fact, he was already twenty-one years old, but still looked short and small.

They said it was due to childhood malnutrition.

Or perhaps because his house was so cramped. Eight people squeezed into an incredibly tiny bungalow.

As a child, he followed his father through the streets picking up garbage.

Though short, he was agile and quick, and known for his sharp eye and fast hands when scavenging.

Even now, walking briskly down the street, he looked like he was back in those childhood days with his father, scavenging the streets.

If you head two kilometers east from his home, you'll find three sports fields lined up north to south.

To the north is a track field popular with runners. To the south are two standard football pitches side by side, and in between them stands a sports center.

This is the site of a football club called JS Suresnes.

An amateur team with little fame.

Few know that Everton center-back Sylvain Distin once trained here. After showing his potential, he was scouted by Paris Saint-Germain. His time at Suresnes was brief.

From a young age, the black boy heard people say football was a way to make money.

When he came to Suresnes and heard about Distin, he began to dream. He dreamed that one day he too could shine, get spotted by a big club, leave Suresnes, and take his family out of the crowded bungalow in Rueil-Malmaison.

But he was too short. Too skinny.

Peter Woyntina, the Polish coach, praised him for being smart, quick to learn, having fast reactions, great physical endurance, and incredible agility—but his health was simply too poor.

Being skinnier and shorter than others was a massive disadvantage on the pitch.

"Professional football is a physical game. You're not fit to play, N'Golo."

N'Golo Kanté had heard words like that countless times.

All the young players who came to JS Suresnes dreamed of going pro. Those with real talent were quickly picked up by other teams. The rest came to terms with their limitations, accepted their mediocrity, and moved on.

But he was the only one who stayed.

He played for this unknown amateur club on this uneven pitch for ten years.

He was easily overlooked. Students came and went, and no one ever really noticed him.

Until last year, when the club chairman, touched by Kanté's persistence and work ethic, arranged an opportunity for him to go to Boulogne-sur-Mer, a port city 260 kilometers away in northwestern France.

It was a Ligue 2 team, but already on the brink.

On Kanté's first day with the club, they told him another incredible story.

Franck Ribéry, the French international and Bayern Munich star, came from Boulogne.

Many legends surrounded Ribéry, like how he used to move bricks for a living, or how a teammate once followed him into a sketchy back alley...

Everyone at Boulogne idolized Ribéry and dreamed of escaping just like he did.

But Kanté didn't dare to dream like that.

Because he couldn't even secure a spot at Boulogne.

He was like a ghost. No one noticed him.

Except when it came to running.

Boulogne would occasionally hold extreme endurance runs. Kanté always finished first.

When everyone else dropped from exhaustion, he kept going, lap after lap, like he never got tired.

So they gave him a nickname: Indestructible Kanté.

Every day he rode his scooter, carrying a small backpack to and from training.

Football was his whole life.

Because he knew it was the only way out.

In the recently concluded season, Boulogne finished second to last in Ligue 2 and were relegated.

Kanté performed well in Boulogne's youth team. In the final round of the league, with the first team demoralized and disbanding after being relegated several rounds early, he was promoted in preparation for next season's French third-tier league.

Even so, he only got 11 minutes of playing time.

But fortunately, the club decided to keep him.

As soon as the season ended, Kanté returned to Rueil-Malmaison from Boulogne-sur-Mer. He shared the good news with his family, making them happy, and told them he was getting closer to taking them out of this hellhole.

He walked briskly all the way to JS Suresnes, eager to tell his old coaches and teammates.

But when he arrived after the two-kilometer walk, he found the training ground empty.

Fewer and fewer people were training. Coaches and management had all taken up part-time work.

Kanté stood on the sidelines, facing the worn pitch. He stared for a long time, as if he could still see the shadows of those he had once chased on this very field. As if he could see his younger self standing on the pitch, looking up at the sky, dreaming of the future.

He was already twenty-one years old.

Though he had not given up, he felt his dream was slipping further away.

Still, he would never give up. Not until the very end.

He wasn't just the Kanté who couldn't be killed—he was also the Kanté who couldn't be defeated!

Just as Kanté sighed deeply and turned to leave, the cheap Nokia in his pocket suddenly rang.

It was the cheapest phone he could buy when he left Boulogne. It could only make and receive calls.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this N'Golo Kanté?"

"Yes, who's speaking?"

"Hi, N'Golo. I'm the chief scout for Premier League club Leeds United. My name is Steve Walsh."

"English... Premier League? Leeds United?"

"Yes. You've probably heard of our club."

"Of course. People say you're the best promoted team in Premier League history."

"Oh, thanks for the compliment. But let's get to the point," Steve Walsh said.

"Okay," Kanté replied, his voice trembling slightly.

"Someone recommended you to us. We sent scouts to Boulogne to evaluate you, including watching your training and matches. Though you only played in one Ligue 2 game, we believe you have great potential."

"Me?" Kanté was shocked.

"Of course."

"But... I only played 11 minutes," he said, struggling to believe it himself.

"Training is just as important, kid," Steve Walsh reassured him.

Kanté was stunned. No one had ever said something like that to him before. Never.

"Can I ask... who recommended me to you?"

Steve Walsh paused for about three seconds, then smiled and said, "You've definitely heard his name, kid."

Kanté didn't speak. He waited quietly.

"Gao Shen."

"Gao... Shen?" Kanté blurted out.

"Don't be surprised, kid. Someone sent him a video of your training. He watched it and thought you had great potential, so he recommended you to us. I've seen your matches and training footage. Your running and coverage are outstanding. Sure, you still have technical and tactical flaws, but we've also learned that you're a fast learner and progressing quickly."

"Come to Leeds United. We'll help you grow. You'll become an excellent professional player here."

"Can I really...?" Kanté's confidence faltered.

Everything had happened so suddenly. He was completely unprepared.

He knew Leeds United. He knew Gao Shen.

But what right did he have to be noticed by Leeds United and Gao Shen?

"I trust our scouting and our boss's judgment. He's the best talent spotter in the world."

Kanté was deeply moved.

He had every reason to be.

"We've already reached an agreement with Boulogne. They didn't even ask for a transfer fee. They gave you the green light," Steve Walsh said with a chuckle, like he was getting a great bargain.

"I'll arrange for our French scouts to visit you and your family to go over everything. Of course, if you'd like, you're welcome to come to Leeds directly and we can talk in person."

"Can I meet Gao Shen?" Kanté asked.

He really wanted to meet the man who had recommended him.

He'd seen him countless times in the news, on television.

"Not at the moment. He's still on holiday. But there might be a chance. He's mentioned your name to us several times. He said he saw something special in you."

Kanté was so emotional he almost cried.

Just moments ago, he was someone who couldn't even get playing time at a relegated Ligue 2 team. Now, he had been hand-picked by the world's best coach. The contrast was staggering.

So staggering, he could hardly believe it.

"Son, we understand your family's situation. Come take a look. If we sign, we'll arrange jobs for your family so you can all settle down in Leeds."

After hearing that, Kanté no longer had any reason to hesitate.

Leeds United had thought of everything. What more could he ask for?

"Sir, I want to go to Leeds United!"

"Good. Our team will get in touch with you and arrange your flight. We're looking forward to seeing you in Leeds."

After hanging up, Kanté stood there, still dazed.

He even felt like he was dreaming. It all felt surreal.

But looking at the phone still lit up in his hand, he knew it was real.

He had a strong feeling—his life was about to change.

From this moment on!

(To be continued.)