I Am Jose-Chapter 119 - : Matias

As Matias walked off the field with a look of complete indifference, his father let out a sigh and muttered under his breath, "Son, your temper is going to be the end of you..."

José watched the scene unfold with interest. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Earlier, during a defensive sequence, Matias had hesitated to commit a foul despite being in a perfect position to do so. From this, José deduced that while Matias was slow to turn, he was also fearless when it came to tackling and fouling. His size made him a dominant physical presence, but that same aggressiveness likely posed a risk to his teammates in training. It was probably why the coach had forbidden him from making full-blooded tackles, and his teammates had taken advantage of it, constantly dribbling past him. Judging by his father's reaction, Matias wasn't the type to take that lightly. He had likely been stewing in frustration, and when given the chance, he had delivered a crunching tackle to make his point.

This kid's got guts, José thought to himself.

In most youth academies, going against the coach was unheard of. After all, the coaches controlled a player's future, holding the power to recommend them for promotions or transfers. Yet, Matias had openly argued with his coach and walked off as if he couldn't care less.

He's not one to back down, José mused.

As Matias strode off the training ground, his father greeted him with an exasperated expression. "Son, can't you work on that temper of yours? What's the point of arguing with the coach?"

"Relax, Dad," Matias replied dismissively. "That guy has no clue how to train defenders. What, I'm just supposed to stand there like a practice dummy and let them dribble past me? How does that help me improve? I might as well go play amateur football instead."

José found himself agreeing with the young defender's point. For a tall, slow-turning center-back, being told not to use tackles or physicality was the equivalent of being asked to stand still and be humiliated. There was no way to develop under such constraints.

"Son, you've been at Real Madrid, then Atlético, then Rayo Vallecano, and now you're here at Getafe. If they don't want you either, what are you going to do?" his father asked with concern.

"There are plenty of clubs out there," Matias scoffed. "I refuse to believe there isn't a single coach who knows how to train me. I'm not some stepping stone for so-called 'wonderkids.' I won't let them use me to refine their dribbling, only to get kicked out of the academy when they move up to the first team. I'd rather leave on my own terms."

José chuckled. He understood exactly what Matias was talking about. Many clubs intentionally kept certain youth players around not because they had a future at the club, but because they served as useful training fodder for the more highly regarded prospects. These "expendable" players were given minimal opportunities and, once they had served their purpose, were discarded just before they reached the senior level.

Even major clubs did this. Manchester United had once been sued by several parents for treating their children in this manner, though the case never gained much traction. The reality was harsh: youth academies were ruthless environments. Only the very best made it to the first team, and many players were simply used to facilitate the development of others. Mallorca wasn't immune to this practice either. Their reserve squad was filled with players earning meager wages, merely serving as sparring partners for the club's favored prospects.

As Matias and his father continued their conversation, they eventually turned to leave. But before they could go, José called out to them.

Matias turned to face him, looking skeptical. He could tell from José's attire that he was probably a scout, but any scout looking for talent at a second-division club like Getafe's youth academy wasn't likely from an elite team.

His father, on the other hand, looked at José with hope. After all, Matias had bounced from club to club, never managing to stick. If this man was interested in his son, perhaps there was still a way forward.

"Matias," José said, "other than tackling, what else could you have done to stop that attacker just now?"

Matias rolled his eyes. "Body him off the ball, shoulder check him... whatever it takes," he said dismissively. "And if this were a real match, I wouldn't even let myself get caught in that kind of position in the first place."

"Smart," José replied with a grin. A defender's job wasn't just about individual duels—it was about positioning and teamwork. No center-back should ever find themselves one-on-one in open space if they could help it.

"Who are you, anyway?" Matias asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Damian!" his father scolded, then quickly turned to José with an apologetic smile. "Sir, which club are you scouting for?"

Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.

José rubbed his chin and simply said, "Can we sit down somewhere and talk?"

"Of course! There's a quiet café nearby," Matias's father replied eagerly, pulling his son along.

Matias eyed José suspiciously but followed nonetheless. No way this guy just wants a free coffee... right?

If José had known what the kid was thinking, he would have laughed. I get free meals in Mallorca. Why would I care about a cup of coffee?

They soon arrived at a small café in Getafe's city center. It was just as Matias's father had described—quiet, mostly empty. José ordered a coffee, took off his hat and sunglasses, and set them aside.

He half-expected the father and son to recognize him immediately. After all, he had been in the spotlight quite a bit lately. But they merely glanced at him without a hint of recognition.

José felt a little disappointed. He took a sip of his coffee before speaking.

"Mr. Matias, I heard you mention that Damian was in Real Madrid's academy. Why did he leave? With his ability, it doesn't seem like he should have been cut."

Matias's father hesitated, looking embarrassed, but Matias himself had no such reservations.

"Look, I don't know what you've heard, but I've been playing since I was nine. Spent four years at Real Madrid, moved to Atlético at thirteen, Rayo Vallecano at fifteen, and now I'm here. And every single time, it's the same damn story. I refuse to be a training dummy. I'm not going to let so-called 'talents' use me to perfect their dribbling. I'm a defender, and I'll defend however I see fit. If I can't win the ball cleanly, I'll make damn sure they don't get past me easily. But coaches don't like that. Every time I commit a foul in training, they chew me out. And I'm not the type to just sit there and take it. If a club wants me to be a stepping stone for others, I'll leave—no hesitation. I'd rather play amateur football than be someone's practice dummy."

José studied Matias with interest. The kid wasn't just stubborn—he was sharp. Wasting years as a sparring partner in a big club's academy was a dead end. It was far better to play actual matches, even at a lower level, and continue developing in real competition.

"Everyone has to think about their future," José nodded in agreement. "But on the pitch—would you be willing to sacrifice for the team?"

"Of course," Matias said matter-of-factly. "Football isn't a one-man game."

"Good," José said with a smile. "Would you be interested in joining Mallorca's youth team?"

"Mallorca?" Matias and his father exchanged surprised glances.

"That's right," José said, scribbling a number on a piece of paper. "If you end up leaving Getafe, come to Mallorca. We need talent in our youth ranks. With the number of players moving up to the first team, our reserves are short-handed."

Matias took the paper and read the name at the bottom. "José Alemañy? You're José Alemañy? Mallorca's manager?"

His father's jaw dropped in shock, while Matias let out an excited shout.

"Dad! That's José! I saw him on TV during the Real Madrid game yesterday!"

José rubbed his nose and smirked. This kid might have potential... but he's a bit of a goofball too.

"Matias, let me make one thing clear," José said. "At Mallorca, even a stepping stone gets a real chance. If you have the ability, you'll move up. If you don't, you won't. Simple as that."