Quick clarification before I start this story is going from 2003 to 2026.
The 2003-2004 season will have like fifty to seventy chapters.
The entire story will probably be nearing a thousand if it doesn’t pass it.
The first-class cabin of the British Airways flight was luxurious, insulated from the world thirty thousand feet below.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the pressure had evaporated.
Sitting side by side in there seats, Rico and Anne were in their own bubble.
The tension and heartbreak of the previous week had been replaced by joy.
They spent the entire ten-hour flight laughing, whispering, and joking with each other, their hands intertwined across the wide center console.
Rico found himself smiling more in those ten hours than he had in the last ten years.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
The realization that they were actually doing this was a thrilling rush that surpassed scoring a winning goal.
When the jet finally descended through the English clouds and touched down on the tarmac at Heathrow, the reality of their new beginning set in.
They navigated the private VIP customs terminal with ease, flanked by a small security detail provided by Rico’s agency.
As they stepped out into the cool London air, a sleek black executive car was idling at the curb, the driver standing at attention.
Rico stopped, turning to Anne.
He gently squeezed her hand, his expression shifting slightly as his professional obligations came crashing back.
“I need to get to my medical,” Rico said reluctantly “You can take the driver and go look around for places.” Anne smiled warmly, understanding the intense demands of his career.
“Any preferences?” Rico looked at the sprawling cityscape of London, “I doubt you’ll find anything that great in a couple of hours.” Anne tilted her head playfully, a challenging spark in her doe eyes.
“Who knows?” Rico chuckled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her lips.
“Yeah.
Let’s see what you can do.
Text me later.” While Anne slipped into the back of the town car to begin her impromptu real estate hunt, Rico was whisked away to Motspur Park.
He was escorted deep into the medical wing to undergo the rigorous transfer screening.
The lead physio directed Rico to step up onto the stadiometer to begin the baseline measurements.
Rico kicked off his pristine white sneakers and stepped onto the cold metal plate, standing straight.
His broad shoulders and muscular frame seemed to swallow the space in the room.
The physio slid the measuring bar down until it rested flat against the crown of Rico’s tousled hair.
He squinted at the digital readout, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“195 cm,” the physio announced, writing the number down on his clipboard.
Rico stepped off the scale, his brow furrowing as his mind tried to quickly convert the metric system.
“What’s that in feet?” The physio looked up, giving the teenager an impressed look.
“Like 6’4.” Rico paused, a slow realization washing over his features.
“I’ve grown.
I was moving at 6’2, 6’3.” He was already an anomaly, a terrifying blend of speed and raw strength, but now he was officially standing at six-foot-four.
He was a titan.
“Yeah, you should do just fine with the physical stuff, at this height,” the physio chuckled, patting the teenager on the back.
“We just got to make sure though.
The Premier League isn’t a walk in the park.
Follow me.” For the next two hours, Rico went through the physical and physiological tests, and he executed every single one of them like a flawless machine.
They started with the dreaded VO2 Max test.
Rico was strapped into a harness on a high-speed treadmill, a clear oxygen mask strapped tightly over his face.
As the incline and the speed violently increased every passing minute, the sports scientists watched the monitors in awe.
Normal players usually tapped out, their lungs burning and their legs flooding with lactic acid, but Rico barely even broke a sweat.
His heart rate remained steady, his long strides eating up the treadmill belt with a predatory grace.
He only stopped when the machine couldn’t go any faster, stepping off the belt unfazed while the staff stared at his cardiovascular metrics in disbelief.
Next was the isokinetic dynamometer to test his sheer muscular output.
When Rico performed the leg extensions, the machine groaned under the violence of his muscular torque.
Finally, they moved him to the clinical room to do the urine and the blood tests to screen for underlying conditions or illicit substances.
The results were a foregone conclusion.
His blood panels were clean.
Everything was fine.
He was in the prime of human athletic conditioning.
After showering and changing into a tracksuit, Rico walked into the boardroom overlooking the pristine training pitches.
His mother was already there, sitting at the head of a mahogany table.
She was in her element, surrounded by thick stacks of legal documents and promotional schedules.
“They want to do the contract signing today,” his mom announced the second he walked through the door.
Rico pulled out a plush leather chair and sat down.
“Really?” “Yeah, they got the cameras here and everything,” she explained, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway where the media team was waiting.
“There’s going to be pressure as you’re the star signing.” Rico let out a dismissive scoff, leaning back in his chair.
“What pressure?
This is going to be fun.
They can’t put me on the bench unless I suck.” “Just one game at a time,” his mother cautioned, trying to temper his monumental ego.
She looked at him closely, scanning his relaxed posture.
“Everything must have gone well.” “Yeah,” Rico nodded, a warm smile breaking across his face.
“Anne and I figured everything out.” His mother let out a sigh.
“I meant the medical.” “Oh,” Rico chuckled softly, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Yeah, that was fine.
I’m 6’4 apparently.” His mother’s eyes widened in maternal disbelief.
“You need to stop growing,” she said jokingly.
“I think I reached my peak,” Rico smirked, stretching his long legs out under the table.
“Well, not in football,” she corrected him, never letting him settle for anything less than perfection.
“I know, I got some stuff to learn,” Rico conceded, his tone surprisingly grounded.
His mother narrowed her eyes.
It was rare for her son to ever admit he had weaknesses.
“What happened to you?” “Just being realistic,” Rico shrugged his broad shoulders.
“I need to learn how to cook, how to do my own laundry, or should I just get a maid?” “Just when I think you’re growing,” his mother muttered.
“I’m kidding,” Rico laughed, his deep voice echoing in the boardroom.
“I need to get to know my teammates and tell them where I want them to run.” His mother frowned, “You can’t treat them like chess pieces.” “I could,” Rico countered.
“Or maybe you find out where they like the ball instead of where you want to give them the ball,” she suggested.
“That only works with great players,” Rico stated bluntly, “These guys finished 14th last year.” “And you were still being homeschooled last year,” his mother shot back.
Rico’s jaw clenched slightly, but he took the hit.
“Let me do it my way, and if my way doesn’t work, I’ll do it your way.” “Okay, fine, that’s the best I’m going to get out of you,” his mother surrendered, knowing that was the best she was going to get.
She closed a folder as her tone shifting into a maternal register.
“What happened with you and Anne?” Rico’s posture softened.
“I told her how I felt, and she agreed to a long-distance relationship.” “How is that going to work?” his mother asked, highly sceptical of the logistics.
“Well, she’s going to stay with me when she’s not working, and the summer I’ll spend it with her in LA,” Rico answered smoothly, having mapped it all out in his head.
“Okay, are you sure about this?” “And she’s going to be in London for the next couple years, and we’re getting a place together,” Rico added, dropping the bombshell with total nonchalance.
His mother froze.
“You’ve been dating for three months and already moving in together?” “Yeah,” Rico nodded, “We love each other.” “Rico, I think you’re making a mistake, you’re moving too fast,” his mother warned, fear bleeding into her voice.
“We’ve been on twelve dates,” Rico defended the relationship, as if the volume of their dayes validated the speed of their commitment.
“Because you crammed all your dates in!” his mother argued, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
“She’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with,” Rico stated.
“You’re just a kid,” his mother pleaded.
Rico’s eyes instantly darkened.
He hated being patronised.
“Don’t call me a kid, I’m a grown man and I know what I’m doing.” “Do you really?” his mother challenged, standing up from her chair.
“Because all you ever seem to do is act like a spoiled kid!” “Mom, I love you, but I’m not taking relationship advice from you,” Rico fired back.
His mother gasped softly, her expression hardening.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” “You clearly are having issues with dad,” Rico pointed out, his piercing gaze dissecting her hypocritical stance.
“You stayed at my apartment for weeks, you don’t talk to him…
what, you think I don’t notice what’s been going on?
You’re taking out your relationship issues on me.” “Take that back right now,” his mother commanded.
The heavy silence in the boardroom was deafening.
Rico stared at her, seeing the genuine pain he had just inflicted.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Rico apologised, “But we’re trying to make this work, why can’t you get that?” His mother sank back into her plush leather chair, suddenly looking incredibly exhausted.
She covered her face with her hands for a moment before looking back up at him.
“I do.
I don’t want you to get hurt.
Last time, you took out your feelings on someone who didn’t deserve it.” Rico scowled, “Well, the guy was an Argentine American.
He was asking for it.” His mother let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head.
“Look,” she said softly, reaching across the mahogany table.
“I want you to be happy, and I get that you think she’s the only girl in the world, but there are simpler relationships out there.” “Well, I don’t want simple,” Rico insisted, leaning forward to hold her gaze.
“And even if I did, you constantly doubting the relationship isn’t going to make it simple.” His mother stared at him, finally realising that she couldn’t protect him from this.
He wasn’t a little boy anymore.
He was a grown man who wanted Anne by his side.
“Fine, I’m sorry,” his mother finally conceded, a small smile breaking through her stress.
“I want you to be happy, and if it’s with Anne, then I’m fine with it.” “Thank you,” Rico whispered, a massive weight lifting off his shoulders.
He stood up and pulled his mother into a fierce hug.
She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his solid chest, finding a brief moment of quiet comfort amidst the hurricane of his ambitions.
The boardroom doors swung open as Chris Coleman and the Fulham media team walked in, holding a Fulham shirt with the number 17 emblazoned on the back.
Before Rico could even pick up the pen, his mother slipped back into her agent persona.
She made the club executives wait while she checked every single clause, comma, and performance bonus in the massive contract one final time.
Only when she gave a satisfied nod of approval did Rico finally lean over the table.
With a smooth stroke, he signed his sprawling name across the dotted line.
The room erupted into a flurry of rapid camera flashes.
Rico stood up, holding the Fulham shirt high alongside the manager.
He was officially a Premier League player.
He was the new starboy, carrying the monumental expectations of a club desperate for glory, and he was expected to deliver.
Meanwhile, Anne Hathaway was standing in the centre of a beautiful townhouse in the heart of Kensington.
More importantly, it had a massive basement that was practically begging to be converted into a state-of-the-art private gym.
She looked around the beautiful space, a smile on her face as she already found the perfect place, and as she pulled out her silver flip phone to text him, she couldn’t wait to show Rico their new home.
A/N) Also, should I separate the volumes by clubs or by seasons?
There are like three to five more chapters before we finally get that first game.
I’m debating who should be his first prem game.
From the ones I suggested, who do you want to see as the first Prem Game?
I think Man United at Old Trafford is a good game to start with because that’s the game that can start the hype train as Rico is exactly who he thinks he is.
Also, now, let’s laugh at Argentina.
We laughed at everybody else, now it’s their turn.
Argentina were lucky it wasn’t more than 1.
They weren’t even trying to play, and after Enzo got sent off they had no chance, like they had no shots till the 117 minute.
Honestly, Argentina have been on borrowed time all tournament, there luck was due to run out.