“Bang!” A dull thud exploded, and the football slammed squarely into Theo’s face.
A sudden, numbing pain spread from his skull throughout his entire body.
His vision went black, and he fell straight onto the turf.
Theo grimaced in pain, clutching his forehead tightly with both hands, feeling as if his forehead were about to shatter.
Inside the goal net, the ball was still spinning wildly on the grass; one could only imagine how ferocious that cannon shot had been.
“Damn it!
Who the hell kicked it at my face on purpose?” Theo was dizzy and in pain, and chaotic memories began flooding into his mind.
His head felt like it was about to explode.
A second ago, he was still in his rented room in 2026, staying up late to watch the opening ceremony of the World Cup, with a table full of beer, braised snacks, and fruit, but the rhythmic creaking of the bed frame next door, scratching through the thin wooden wall, had left him feeling agitated.
He had intended to gulp down some ice-cold beer to calm his nerves, but then the world spun, his vision went black, and when he opened his eyes again, he was on a foreign pitch.
He had transmigrated into a youth with the same name, Theo, the third goalkeeper for the Charlton Athletic U18 youth team in the 2010 England League.
Before he could process this information, an oncoming shot caught him off guard, and his pathetic fall instantly became the laughingstock of the whole field.
“Hahaha, scored again!
If only the U18 League were this easy!” “What a loser!
A goalkeeper getting hit in the face!
Embarrassing!” Several harsh laughs followed, and the people on the other side were clapping and celebrating the goal, while his teammates stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with cold, undisguised contempt.
At this moment, someone deliberately raised their voice: “Don’t forget your assessment the day after tomorrow.
With his skill level, he’s definitely getting kicked out!” “He was just a connection hire who paid his way in.
Now that his dad is missing, who’s going to indulge him?” Theo felt a tightness in his chest, his anger surging.
He had been on the ground for a full two minutes, and among the twenty or thirty people on the field, not one had come over to ask about his injury; they were all just watching the spectacle and kicking him while he was down.
Do those with low ability not deserve human rights?
This was far more painful than the injury on his head.
Is this even a football club?
“Have you had enough!” A rough shout suddenly rang out.
David, the assistant coach who was doubling as the referee, strode over with a face as dark as a storm cloud.
He stared down at Theo, his tone full of impatience and disgust: “Theo!
Get up right now!
The training match isn’t over.
If you’re really hurt, get to the medical room and stop delaying everyone else’s training!” Fortunately, he had inherited the language skills of the original owner; otherwise, with his 1.3-level English listening skills, he certainly wouldn’t have understood the London accent filled with slang used by these players and the coach.
Already fuming, he immediately retorted: “Fuck!
I’ve been hit hard enough to get a concussion.
If there’s a real problem, are you paying the medical bills?” As soon as he said this, the coach’s face stiffened abruptly.
Charlton Athletic had been relegated twice in three years.
Who could have imagined that more than two years ago, this was still a glorious Premier League team?
They could even have a London derby from time to time!
But now the club’s finances were already stretched thin.
Never mind extra medical expenses; even the daily expenses for the youth players were barely covered.
He didn’t dare take on that mess, so his arrogance instantly deflated.
He waved his hand vaguely: “It should be fine.
Go to the medical room yourself and don’t linger on the pitch.” Theo sneered and slowly pushed himself up from the ground.
His forehead still throbbed with pain.
He rubbed his swollen head, ignored the mocking and gawking gazes around him, walked straight to the sidelines, sat down, grabbed a bottle of mineral water—he didn’t know whose it was—and gulped it down.
The cold water suppressed his surging anger.
He calmed down to process the original owner’s past, and the more he thought about it, the heavier his heart became.
The original owner had just turned eighteen.
His father was Chinese, and he was of mixed Chinese and European descent, holding dual citizenship in England and Germany.
His father was a wanderer; he didn’t know how he came to be, and he had never seen his mother since he was a child.
Although he lived in London before, he liked watching Manchester United matches and enjoyed playing football, but he wasn’t very good at it!
At sixteen, he suddenly had a whim to become a football star and had his father take him to various club youth teams for trials!
But the results of the trials were poor, and not a single club wanted him.
A year ago, while Charlton Athletic was about to be relegated from the EFL Championship and in internal chaos, his father used his connections and sponsorship money to force him—despite his very average football talent—into this U18 youth team.
He tried every position—forward, midfielder, defender—but failed at all of them.
Finally, just because his height was decent, he was barely arranged as the third goalkeeper and signed a one-year apprenticeship scholarship agreement.
In reality, he was just a substitute who never got to play in any matches.
Starting late and with mediocre talent, for a whole year, he could only come on as a substitute in internal training matches when the starters were absent.
To make matters worse, several months ago, that wanderer father went to the Alps for an expedition and disappeared completely, cutting off his only source of income.
The five thousand pounds of living expenses left behind before he departed were now down to just over two thousand.
And the day after tomorrow was when his contract expired.
Once he failed the assessment, he would be directly kicked out of the youth team.
He wouldn’t even have a free place to stay.
With no job, no income, and no family or friends, in this big city of London, he would likely end up homeless.
Thinking of this, Theo’s heart turned cold.
In his past life, he was just an ordinary corporate slave who had played a few games on amateur pitches at most; he knew nothing about professional goalkeeper techniques.
With poor popularity in the team, rock-bottom ability, and being a connection hire that everyone looked down on, his elimination the day after tomorrow was almost a foregone conclusion.
He looked at the distant pitch, his heart filled with unwillingness.
Was he really going to be pushed into a dead end just after transmigrating?
At 6:00 PM sharp, the whistle for the end of training sounded.
Theo picked up his gear bag and left the training ground alone.
He didn’t stay at the club for dinner; he needed to properly sort out his situation.
According to the original owner’s memories, he prepared to go back to the small apartment room the club had rented for him.
The journey only took a dozen minutes, but he spent the whole way thinking about a way out, and the more he thought, the more worried he became.
Passing by a small shop near the community, he bought a large sandwich to fill his stomach.
To save money, he didn’t even dare to buy the milk that went with it!
Just as he was passing a community basketball court, “Bang!” A basketball suddenly bounced out from the court and rolled toward him.
At this moment, a white teenager on the court waved and shouted: “Hi, mate, help me throw the ball back!” Theo looked at what he was holding: one hand held the bag with the sandwich, and the other hand carried the backpack containing his kit, gloves, and shoes.
He really couldn’t free up a hand.
Seeing the basketball roll over, his body’s instinct from training on the football pitch made him kick the basketball hard.
The basketball soared through the air, drawing a perfect arc, crossing a distance of over thirty meters, and with a “swish,” it went straight through the hoop!
“Oh!
My God!
A miracle!” The court instantly erupted in an uproar; everyone widened their eyes, faces full of shock.
But Theo’s attention was no longer on the group of people exclaiming.
The moment the basketball went through the hoop, a mechanical voice appeared in his mind: [Ding!
Congratulations to the host for awakening the Basketball Superstar System.] Theo was a bit dazed.
He certainly knew about the benefits of a transmigrator—the system, his sugar daddy!
But he was a football goalkeeper; what was the point of giving him a Basketball Superstar System?
Could it be that it wanted him to play basketball?