Monday, November 6.
A black Vauxhall traveled along a road in central England, heading north from Birmingham on the M42 toward St George’s Park.
Neil Dewsnip gripped the steering wheel, humming a classic Beatles tune.
He was in a good mood.
His two days in Birmingham had proved more rewarding than expected.
On Saturday at Bodymoor Heath, he had secured Zayn Ryder the final spot in the England U17 squad.
He had not been idle on Sunday either.
He had stopped by Birmingham City’s academy and discovered an interesting fourteen year old named Jude Bellingham, someone worth monitoring over the long term.
Dewsnip set those thoughts aside and glanced toward the passenger seat.
Zayn Ryder sat quietly with his head against the window, watching the hedgerows and fields race past.
Dewsnip assumed he was nervous.
Nine out of ten young players behaved this way when called up to the national youth team for the first time, especially when they found themselves alone in a car with him.
In reality, Zayn was not nervous at all.
He was busy studying the system’s latest quest.
[Main Quest 3: Making the List]
[Objective: Become one of the squad’s top three weekly earners]
[Rewards: 1.
Realization Rate increased by 15%.
2.
Random Trait x1]
Zayn currently earned only four hundred pounds a week, placing him fourteenth among Villa’s U18 players.
He estimated that breaking into the top three would require a weekly wage of at least eight hundred pounds.
But he had signed his professional contract less than two weeks ago.
There were only two ways he could secure a new contract so soon.
He could transfer to another club, or force Villa to reassess his potential and offer him improved terms.
Whichever path he took, this national team training camp was the perfect opportunity to prove himself.
Zayn closed the quest panel and turned his attention to the new core module he had unlocked by signing his first endorsement contract.
[Business Health Index: Calculated according to the number, value, and brand prestige of the endorsement contracts signed by the Host.
A higher index provides greater resistance to injuries and illness.]
In simple terms, the more endorsement contracts he signed, and the better those contracts were, the more resistant he would become to injuries.
That was the Salary Football System for you.
Money was the ultimate driving force.
Zayn’s only current endorsement was his one thousand pound contract with Jade Tower.
It provided the following bonuses:
[Business Health Index: 0.5]
[Current Health Resistance Bonuses: Stomach Illness Resistance +10%.
Flu Resistance +20%.]
“So one thousand pounds really isn’t enough?
The index is only 0.5…”
“And what the hell is Stomach Illness Resistance?
Is it because the contract came from a restaurant?”
Zayn complained silently.
He had signed a legitimate commercial contract, yet the system had rewarded him with the equivalent of a box of cold medicine.
Still, despite his complaints, the new feature gave him considerable peace of mind.
What did professional footballers fear most?
Injuries.
Talent meant nothing if a player’s body could not withstand the strain.
Ronaldo Nazário, Neymar, Bale, Reus, Hazard…
Each of them possessed extraordinary talent, yet injuries had held them back.
Even Torres, whose template Zayn possessed, had never been the same after a major injury robbed him of his explosiveness.
How many promising careers had been ruined by injuries throughout football history?
Far too many to count.
Now, all Zayn had to do was sign enough endorsement contracts, and his risk of injury would decrease.
He was extremely satisfied with the new feature.
…
Dewsnip’s voice pulled Zayn from his thoughts.
Zayn looked up as a vast complex of green buildings came into view.
St George’s Park, England’s national football center.
The FA had invested more than one hundred million pounds in the facility.
It offered a complete range of sports science equipment and a player hotel built to five star standards.
It could accommodate twenty four teams at once, including England’s senior men’s and women’s sides and every national youth team.
The complex had eleven outdoor pitches, five of which were equipped with underground heating and floodlights.
It also featured an indoor artificial pitch and a vast medical and rehabilitation center whose equipment and capabilities rivaled those of a general hospital.
One of the facility’s five large indoor sports halls even contained an altitude chamber built with NASA technology, allowing it to simulate training at high elevations.
This was not the property of a single club.
It was the heart of English football.
Regardless of age or gender, every Three Lions team gathered, trained, and prepared for competition here.
“Stop staring and get out.”
Dewsnip parked the car, grabbed his thermos, and opened the door.
Zayn slung his training bag over his shoulder and followed him, unable to stop looking around.
Lush green pitches stretched into the distance.
Several groups of players in different colored training kits were warming up farther away.
Every piece of training equipment had been polished until it gleamed, and even the marker discs beside the pitches were arranged in perfect rows.
Everything about the place seemed to announce that it was professional and expensive.
Compared to Bodymoor Heath, an aging training ground that had been in use for nearly fifty years, this place belonged in another world.
Dewsnip led Zayn through a long corridor lined with team photographs from every level of England’s youth setup.
The pictures changed from black and white to color, from the voluminous hairstyles of the 1970s to the short, carefully styled cuts of 2017.
Walking past them felt like traveling through time.
Zayn’s gaze settled on one particular photograph.
It had been taken that June, when England U17 lifted the World Cup trophy.
Manchester City prodigy Phil Foden stood in the center holding the trophy, grinning so widely that his two front teeth showed.
“Most of those boys have already moved up to the U19s,” Dewsnip said, noticing where Zayn was looking.
“Foden, Sancho, and Hudson-Odoi will all train with the U19s during the second half of this year.”
He opened a door.
“That means this U17 squad is entirely new.
The main purpose of this camp is to assess and develop new players.”
Zayn nodded.
He knew that did not mean the squad lacked exceptional talent.
Dewsnip took him through registration, collected his equipment, and showed him to his room.
Since Zayn had been added to the squad at the last minute, all the other U17 players had already been assigned rooms.
As a result, Zayn unexpectedly ended up with a room to himself.
He tossed his training bag inside, changed into a white training shirt bearing the Three Lions crest, and headed out to the pitch.
A group of boys wearing the same white kit were already warming up.
Some stretched their legs, others juggled footballs, and several stood around chatting in small groups.
“Hey, new guy!”
A voice came from behind Zayn.
He turned and saw a curly haired boy grinning at him.
It was Curtis Jones, the future Liverpool midfielder Zayn had deliberately watched during Villa U16’s friendly against Liverpool.
After taking very different paths, the two had unexpectedly met again in the England U17 squad.
“I’m Curtis Jones.
Liverpool.
Midfielder.”
Jones walked over as though they were already friends and looked Zayn up and down.
“Mr.
Dewsnip said he’d pulled someone from Villa U18 into the squad at the last minute.
He doesn’t do that often, so you must be good.”
Only after talking for a while did the naturally talkative Jones realize that he still did not know the blond boy’s name.
His immediate friendliness amused Zayn.
“Zayn Ryder.
Villa U18.
Forward.”
“See that guy over there?
Yeah, the one who looks like he thinks he’s the best player in the world.”
Jones gestured with his chin.
Zayn followed his gaze.
A lean black boy with closely cropped hair was juggling a ball, moving it from his feet to his head, then from his head to his shoulders as he performed a series of elaborate tricks.
“Mason Greenwood.
Manchester United.”
As a Liverpool player, Jones sounded noticeably less friendly when he said the club’s name.
“When he was six, he scored sixteen goals by himself in one match.
He’s been famous ever since.”
Zayn nodded silently.
He already knew plenty about him.
Mason Greenwood would soon become Manchester United’s youngest starter in the Champions League, with Solskjaer treating him as one of the club’s most prized prospects.
Unfortunately, the scandal that later engulfed him away from the pitch would tear his career apart.
“And that one.”
Jones showed no sign of slowing down.
He pointed toward another white boy stretching his legs.
“Bobby Duncan from Manchester City.
My gaffer’s cousin.”
Zayn searched his memory but could not recall the name.
After thinking about whom Jones meant by “my gaffer,” he quickly understood.
Jones was referring to Liverpool legend Steven Gerrard, who was coaching Liverpool U18 at the time.
Zayn paused.
“Gerrard’s cousin?
Why is he in Manchester City’s academy?”
“Who knows?” Jones spread his hands.
“God knows what he was thinking.
Did you hear what Duncan did last year?”
Zayn shook his head.
“England U16 beat Brazil U16 four to three.
Duncan equalized three separate times, then set up the winner.
A hat trick and the winning assist!
He became the first England player in history to score a hat trick against Brazil.”
Perhaps because he admired Gerrard so much, Jones became especially animated when talking about Gerrard’s cousin.
Zayn thought carefully about the future of football but could not remember hearing much about Bobby Duncan.
He had probably never made it.
“See the guy with the little mustache?
That’s our captain, Tommy Doyle from Manchester City.”
“His paternal grandfather is Manchester City legend Mike Doyle.
His maternal grandfather, Glyn Pardoe, is another City legend and still holds the club record as its youngest ever player.”
…
“How do you know so much about everyone here?” Zayn could not help asking.
“Because I’m a midfielder,” Jones replied as though the answer were obvious.
“What kind of midfielder doesn’t know his teammates?”
Zayn nodded.
He could not argue with that.
Still, Jones seemed to know a rather unusual set of details about them.
By the time they finished talking, they had reached the center of the pitch.
The head coach of this England U17 team was Steve Cooper, who had guided the side to the U17 World Cup title earlier that year.
He was speaking with Dewsnip.
Once everyone had arrived, he blew his whistle and called the squad together.
The young players reacted immediately, forming neat lines.
Zayn looked across the collection of golden boys, footballing heirs, and celebrated prodigies without the slightest concern.
Someone with a cheat code had no reason to be intimidated by geniuses.