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[2021-05-19 | Leverkusen Performance Centre , Leverkusen| 13:35 CET]

Despite having a two-week grace period before their Champions League final, the Bundesliga winners were hard at work preparing. Preparing for the final match against Dortmund on the twenty-second had subconsciously gone out the window, its result not really mattering to any of them. They all only had one thing in mind: getting their hands on the Champions League trophy, and they worked hard accordingly.

Sensing their seriousness, the coaching staff subconsciously kept things light on the training grounds, not risking dumb injuries. The players could often be seen playing mini-games such as football, tennis, or simple dynamic dances during warm-ups. Mini challenges planned by both coaches and players were often captured, as the club’s front office used the opportunity to conduct various PR activities.

Wirtz, who had finally lost the medical boot, was back to doing light rehab with the physio team, trying to strengthen the healing ligaments. Despite not playing in the latter part of the season, he was as warmly received by fans as any other player, and sometimes even more. In fact, from the gifts that continued to flood the club, he was clearly the fan favourite, especially among those who eagerly watched him grow up.

Behind the large fence around the training ground, fans could be seen gathering, waving banners, and cheering for even the little training match goal. The whole city was feeling the joy at finally having their dreams fulfilled and wanted to express it somehow.

"Rakim over here, over here!" Just as Rakim jogged to the side of the pitch to grab a drink, the fans began shouting, trying to get his attention.

He thought about it for a second before jogging over with a bright smile, picking up his training bag that was filled with the spare match kits he had been carrying all week for such occasions.

"Alright, alright," he called out with a smile, coming to a stop in front of them. "Who wants one?"

The crowd erupted, hands shooting up, voices overlapping as everyone tried to get his attention at once. Rakim laughed, pulling out the first shirt, which happened to be a home kit, red and black, number 22 on the back. It was already signed, but he didn’t feel like tossing it, not wanting to risk creating an accidental stampede.

"You!" He pointed to a young boy, maybe 12, wearing a Leverkusen scarf and a homemade sign reading "REX => KING OF GERMANY," in crayon. The boy’s eyes went wide as Rakim handed him the shirt and leaned in to take the selfie.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the boy practically roared in his ear, his voice cracking with emotion.

For 10 minutes, he gave out all 10 kits in his bag and signed whatever was handed to him. It was like a short meet-and-greet as he listened to their request, cracking jokes and even face-timing some of their friends and family.

"You guys will win against Chelsea, right?" A little girl wearing Tah’s kit asked after finding her moment to speak, her voice small but hopeful.

Rakim crouched down to her eye level, his expression softening. "What’s your name?"

The girl’s face lit up. "Katja."

"Well, Katja, do you know what the hardest part of my job is?" He asked with a bright smile, picking up a nearby ball and spinning it on his finger. "It’s showing up ready, kinda dumb right?"

"Haha, yeah, are you lying to me?" she asked with a tilt of the head, arms clutching her waist, causing the adults around to chuckle at her.

"No, I’m serious, half the battle is showing up healthy, I can’t overtrain or undertrain. And most importantly, I can’t let the pressure or the opponents intimidate me." He said with a smile, stopping the spinning and scribbled his signature on it. "You want to know what my secret is?"

"Yes," she nodded with an eager expression.

"Okay, make sure to keep the secret, otherwise my enemies will bully me," he responded, holding out his pinky to seal the deal with the little girl, who eagerly accepted before leaning in so he could whisper. "(Whispere whisper whispere)."

"Really?" The little girl jumped up in surprise, her eyes practically shining with stars. "Does that really work?"

"Yes, just try it for yourself," He said with a light wink, handing her the ball before standing up. "Make sure to keep the promise, Kat."

"Alright, folks, it’s time I get back; otherwise, the gaffer will grow a mop of hair out of stress," Rakim said with a grin, backing away from the fence.

The fans erupted in cheers and applause, some still holding their signed shirts against their chests like precious artefacts. Little Katja clutched the ball he’d given her, muttering something to herself before feeling a pat on her shoulder. "Hey, little Katja, can you tell us the secret?" A tall, bearded man with a gruff beard asked, voicing everyone’s curiosity.

The little girl, who had been intimidated by the crowd since she arrived, surprisingly looked him in the eye and shook her head confidently. "No, he said it won’t work if my enemies know."

-_-

>_<

~~~

[2021-05-19 | Rakim’s Place, Hahnwald, Cologne | 18:30 CET]

"Is that the final contract?" Rakim asked, looking at the thick stack of letters placed on the coffee table of his living room. "It kind of felt like it wasn’t going to happen at some point."

"Yes, it was like that for a while, especially when Mercedes suddenly expressed their disinterest in even talking to us." His mother said with a sigh, her hand reaching up to massage the bridge of her nose. "It was weird, but after you secured your ticket to the UCL final and won the DFB cup, things got much smoother. In fact, I also received a pretty attractive offer from McLaren, but Porsche really pulled through."

"Don’t lie, you just didn’t want me riding those British death traps," he commented with a light smile before getting up, fetching a steaming kettle from the kitchen, and filling up her cup of tea. "They look cool, but for some reason I’ve just been seeing people wrap them around trees, railings, and even into walls."

Lisa raised an eyebrow, accepting the cup he poured for her. "That’s not entirely untrue, but McLaren’s offer was genuinely less attractive. Lower base salary, shorter contract, and fewer performance escalators. Porsche gave us everything we wanted—well, almost everything."

"Almost?" Rakim settled back onto the couch, cradling his tea.

"They wouldn’t budge on the league requirement," Lisa explained. "You have to stay in a Top 5 league—Premier League, La Liga, Bundesliga, Serie A, or Ligue 1. If you transfer outside those five, the contract voids."

Rakim shrugged. "I mean, I wasn’t planning on moving to China, America, and Saudi anyway. I don’t exactly need the money, and the Top 5 leagues are where I want to be."

"Good," Lisa said, flipping open the contract to a marked section. "Now, let’s go through the important bits. The base is £8 million per year for five years—"

"Wait, I thought it was seven?" Rakim interrupted.

"I negotiated it down to five," Lisa said. "Seven years is too long. You’re turning eighteen this year and are having the best year of any footballer, no question about it. By twenty-three, you will be entering your prime, and your market value will explode, so we judged it better to renegotiate then."

"Wait, they were fine with it too?" He asked, tilting his head in confusion, obviously thinking they would want the current deal longer. "And love the support, but if this is not my prime, how high do you see me reaching?"

"Hahah, of course, are you forgetting that my main job is to train athletes and help them reach their potential?" She said with a confident expression, flexing biceps that were defined and slender. "I believe no one will surpass you in talent and effort alone, and that will take your place beyond our imagination. But to your question, Porsche doesn’t necessarily need this deal, but saw it as a chance to boost its brand to a demographic that Lamborghini has largely eaten up."

"They are seen as an entry luxury brand, and your demographic meets most of that criteria, which you will be a walking billboard for." She calmly analysed. "They want this long term, but they are also realistic and would want to see some tangible results from this, hence the incentive. But more importantly, they don’t want a deal where one side will feel unhappy or trapped down the line, plus I got the feeling that the owner’s family cared more about winning the World Cup than anything else."

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TO BE CONTINUED...