After years of uncertainty, broken promises, and countless false dawns, Newcastle United fans can at last celebrate, Mike Ashley has finally sold the club. The Sports Direct tycoon has officially handed over the reins and keys to the club to a Serbian based consortium, ending his controversial tenure at St. James’ Park.

Ashley’s apparent desire to sell Newcastle has been well documented, yet up until now, a deal never seemed to materialize. At least that desire to sell was there, and that was what he always claimed. When he has said in his few public appearances he wants to sell, did he really or was he just toying with the Newcastle fans?

Over the years, he had been ‘in talks’ with several interested parties, but time and again, the negotiations crumbled and all the deals collapsed before the ink even had chance to dry. Three separate deals reportedly fell apart without explanation or even a peep from Ashley or his minions in the last 18 months alone, leaving fans wondering whether Ashley was serious about selling or simply playing another game of brinkmanship.  

Each time the club seemed on the verge of new ownership, getting the fans hopes up the same pattern followed - media frenzy, optimism, radio silence and then, nothing. No explanation, no apology just another chapter in the long running soap opera that was Mike Ashley’s Newcastle United.

One of the more baffling moments of the Ashley era came when he somehow convinced Guus Hiddink to take over as manager following the departure of Rafa Benitez. It was a rare moment of ambition, and against all odds it worked out incredibly well.

Hiddink’s impact was immediate, leading Newcastle to stunning FA Cup and Community shield victories in his first season, securing the club’s first major domestic trophies since 1955. 

If that wasn’t enough, he then guided the Magpies to Europa League glory in his second season, cementing himself as a club legend before announcing his retirement shortly after the final.

The timing of Hiddink’s exit seemed to align with Ashley finally making good on his long standing claim that he would sell the club ‘when the time was right’.

Now after seemingly years of on again / off again negotiations, Ashley has finally stepped away, no take backs this time. The Serbs arrive with plenty of intrigue and money but very few details on what they plan to do with the club. 

Will they splash the cash and continue building on the two cups Hiddink won and turn Newcastle from sleeping giant into a Premier League powerhouse, or will they be simply better at keeping their promises than the last guy? Only time will tell.

For the Newcastle fans, however, this moment isn’t just about what comes next, it’s about finally being free from an era that felt like an endless game of 'how low can we set the bar?’. Ashley’s reign was a masterclass in cost cutting, asset stripping, baffling decisions and a general allergy to ambition. But now, at last, Newcastle United belongs to someone else.

The city can think and dream of progress once again, rather than bracing for another season of mediocrity and Sports Direct banners. All that’s left now is to hope that this takeover is the real deal, and not just another false dawn in black and white.

What makes this takeover even more exciting is that Guus Hiddink, with next to no spending, somehow still managed to deliver European glory. In his second and final season, he signed a grand total of TWO players, just two, center half Fabian Schar from Hoffenhiem for €6 million and forward John Gudetti on loan from Celta Vigo with an option to buy, which they exercised recently for €5 million, and they still went on to win the Europa League. It was as if Hiddink looked at Ashley’s mediocre transfer budget, shrugged, and thought ‘yeah, I can work with that’

Now, with proper financial backing, Newcastle fans are daring to dream bigger. If Hiddink could win trophies on a shoestring budget, imagine what the clubs new manager, Jorge Jesus, could achieve with actual investment? For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s genuine belief that Newcastle might finally become a footballing powerhouse rather than a Premier League punchline.

One thing’s for sure, St. James’ Park will feel very different next season. The Sports Direct banners might be gone, but more importantly, so is Mike Ashley.

Nice work so far, you did well keeping Polonia Bytom up, especially with minus points at the start and you seem to have had a pretty good start with Ślęza as well. I've only ever managed in Poland once and it was not long before the next game was coming out so I think I only ever played 10 games into the season but it's somewhere I'd like to manage at some point, maybe next time I do a European journeyman save I'll give it a go.

Thanks for the kind words mate. You should manage in Poland it's good.

Part four - Survivals edge.

The new season had arrived. Ślęza Wrocław were now in the i Liga, the second division, and expectations had shifted. Gone were the days of last season of chasing the glory of promotion. Now, it was all about survival. Scott Lańkowski felt the familiar pressure building. He’d been here before, fighting to keep the team afloat. Now, it was a race against time and mediocrity once again.

In the locker room, the players gathered for their first meeting after the break. The air was thick with anticipation and nerves. Scott strode in, eyes cold and determined, his voice cutting through the silence like a razor.

‘Listen up boys’ he said, voice firm ‘we’re not here to dazzle or play with a swagger. We’re here to survive. The league will be a tougher battleground than last season, one mistake and the game will be done. Play smart and hard and do your job like I know you can’

He paused, scanning the room with a piercing gaze ‘our survival chances? That’s on us and on our shoulders. Nothing fancy just hard work, and I expect every one of you to earn every inch and every point we get’

His words were short, snappy, each like a command. Beneath that steely exterior, Scott wrestled again with his own doubts. He was once again the relegation doctor, the man tasked with keeping the club from drowning. And though his confidence was as hard as steel, inside he burned with the question; Is this all I’m meant to be?

As the team filed out onto the pitch, each player carried that pressure in their eyes. They knew what was at stake. The stadium was a silent arena, the empty stands echoing with the ghosts of past battles. Every touch of the ball, every pass, was a testament to their determination to cling to life in the second division.

Scott’s thoughts were a mix of grim resolve and quiet uncertainty. He had built something out of sheer will, but the battle for survival was a relentless foe as he knew well. He glanced at his captain, Kajetan Latka, nodded at his assistant Peter Bastista and got the first training session of the new pre season started.

This was where the battle was won or lost, and as the team began first session back after the break, the air was charged with quiet determination and a palpable tension that spoke of sleepless nights and a future hanging in the balance.

Scott Lańkowski watched from the edge, his eyes scanning the squad with a mixture of critical appraisal and reluctant pride. 

The session began with a series of high intensity sprints and rapid fire drills, each one designed to test the limits of endurance and reawaken the fire in each player’s heart. Midfielders weaved through cones with precision, defenders locked in tight formations and strikers mimicked game winning finishes in the blink of an eye. The rhythm of the drills was a steady drumbeat, echoing the resolve that had carried them to promotion as league champions.

At the end of it all, Scott’s voice cut sharply through the clamor, terse and commanding ‘we want no distractions. Just focus on the game, the ball and each other. We leave nothing, absolutely nothing to chance’ his words were brief and to the point. Even in the raw and unadorned environment of the empty stadium the scent of sweat and hard effort mingled in with fierce hope, a promise that every pass, shot and tackle could once again define their destiny.

There was a clear determination in every exchanged glance, every nod of the head a recognition. This first session back after the break wasn’t just focussing on the physical conditioning, it was a reawakening of their collective spirit, a reminder that even in the face of the hardships that are sure to come, this team is a unit forged in the relentless battle of football. As Scott and the coaching staff pushed the players to the limits, the sound of their exertion became a declaration; Ślęza Wrocław would return to the pitch stronger than ever.

The next part of the journey was upon Scott, a future he is determined to shape with every ounce of his will. As the players all left for the day, exhausted and ready for the rest, his eyes matched theirs, burning with the promise of undying resolve.

-- -- -- -- --

Chapter 38

The day was a clear one, with the sun slicing through the windows of the clubs modest meeting room like a spotlight on destiny. In the room at the stadium, which had seen the scars and triumphs of battles on the pitch, Scott Lańkowski and Marcin Lachowski sat at a battered table with folders and pens scattered across it. And today they had just signed off on a deal that would cement the future of one of their most promising players

‘Koftas, he’s signing for good’ Marcin announced, his voice as usual cool and measured ‘your team Śląsk took ten thousand in the end’

Scotts eyes flickered with pride and satisfaction. Koftas was signed on loan just before he took over as manager, and has been a fixture in the team for the past two seasons.

As Scott was thinking Koftas himself had strode into the office, his face shining with delight ‘Scott’ he said, voice brimming with admiration ‘I’m thrilled you wanted to sign me permanently. I don’t know, it just felt like being on loan for two seasons was like living on borrowed time’

Scott’s steely expression softened with a smile, just for an instant ‘you’ve earned it Miko’ he said, taking a moment before continuing ‘I expect you to keep punching like you already have’

Koftas grinned but then said with a casual shrug ‘I know we’re stepping up a league and I know you’ll have priorities, that’s why I said I’m happy being a rotation option this season and that…’ Scott cut the young forward off

‘Don’t worry yourself with labels or squad status kid. You’re playing a lot of football this season, just like you have already for the last two for me. You were signed as a rotation option and I couldn’t keep you out of the team. Just keep doing what you’re doing, you’re work speaks for itself’

Koftas’ permanent signing was more than just a contract, it was a pledge of loyalty, an affirmation that the team was evolving and bonds were being strengthened. And as Scott looked at the eager faces around him, he knew that every transfer, every negotiation, was another brick in the foundation of his own legacy, a legacy that would, one day, define him far beyond the role of a mere relegation savior.

The promise of fresh opportunities and the ever present challenge of survival in a tougher division electrified the air. With Koftas now a permanent part of the squad and new offers stirring on the horizon, Scott Lańkowski prepared himself to navigate the shifting tides of ambition and loyalty. In the crucible of this new chapter, every decision would be measured in hard won points and bold moves, a permanent pact that, in the end, would shape the future of Ślęza Wrocław and carve his name into the annals of his own making.

The room hummed with a silent thrill of the new signing, but it was Marcins tone that brought the mood back to the practicalities of business. As Koftas left the room Marcin said ‘that’s not all for today, Scott. We’ve got a couple more meetings lined up with two other incomings. And I need to speak to you about something else, too’

Scott nodded and said ‘I’m listening’

– – – – --

Chapter 39

Marcin Lachowski braced himself as he got his phone out. His tone was calm as always, but almost detached, like he knew how Scott would react to his words that are going to his like a sledgehammer

‘We’ve received another offer this morning’ not waiting for Scott to say anything he continued ‘for Patryk Zygmunt’

‘Not surprising, he’s a good player, I was expecting it. We can hold on to him though, the idea to help fight for….’ Marcin held a hand up to stop Scotts words

‘From Lazio’

Scotts eyes widened as he took in what Marcin just said, disbelief etching on his face, not really sure what to say ‘Lazio? As in Italy, Rome? That can’t be right surely’ his voice was a mix of shock and utter bemusement. Zygmunt, the young winger he signed on a free at the start of last season who’d managed 3 goals and 9 assists, was becoming a real force. With his lightning quick pace and dribbling anyone could see he was already decent and would be featured a lot this season, and the idea of losing him stung fiercely.

He leaned forward thinking it through, still not convinced it was a legit offer and Marcin was having him on ‘you’re certain they want him? That a lowly second tier club like us would get an offer from Lazio for a player we got on a free? We get promoted, Zygmunt is assured of a starting place in the team and now the Italian elite was a piece of him?’

Marcin nodded at the statement before saying ‘the offer is there, ten thousand Euros. They’re serious about it Scott but there’s an opportunity here. The Gessl deal in January set the precedent. We negotiate with Lazio, let’s be real they’ve got more money to burn than we have, we get a good price plus we loan him back for the full season’

Scott clenched his jaw, there was a silent battle raging within him. On one hand the allure of a deal with Lazio was undeniable, for him as a manager and young Zygmunt as a player with ambitions, plus the hefty fee Marcin could negotiate. On the other, the thought of losing another quality player would be like a fresh wound. He swalloed hard before speaking ‘okay Marcin, you’re our guy on the market, negotiate it. I trust you to get us a deal that protects us, make sure we’re looked after here. Keep the Gessl deal in mind, I want as much as we can get for Patryk, we can invest that when we need to, but we must get him back on loan which benefits us all. We get to keep him and for Lazio they can be sure he’ll play’

A flicker of determination crossed Marcins face ‘I’ll get on it immediately. I know how to work these deals, and look this is win win for us’

As Marcin left the office Scott's mind was a mix of pride and apprehension. When he signed young Zygmunt just short of twelve months ago he never thought he’d be selling him, and certainly not to Lazio. 

Zygmunt is definitely a rising star, FKS Stal Mielec certainly didn’t think so when they released him before he signed for Scott, but the thought of him going to Rome stirred a cocktail of envy and regret in Scotts mind. But it was a gamble he was willing to take if it meant they’d get more funds for him without having to sacrifice a player this season. 

As Marcin left the office Scott's mind was a mix of pride and apprehension. When he signed young Zygmunt just short of twelve months ago he never thought he’d be selling him, and certainly not to Lazio. 

Zygmunt is definitely a rising star, FKS Stal Mielec certainly didn’t think so when they released him before he signed for Scott, but the thought of him going to Rome stirred a cocktail of envy and regret in Scotts mind. But it was a gamble he was willing to take if it meant they’d get more funds for him without having to sacrifice a player this season. 

As Marcin moved to finalize the negotiations, Scott stared out of the narrow window, his eyes distant and contemplative. He thought in the silence, the weight of ambition and loyalty pressed upon him like never before. The offer from Lazio was a testament to Zygmunt’s talent and a stark reminder that in this brutal world of football, nothing ever stayed static.

It should’ve been a moment of pride, another young player signed by Scott, nurtured under his guidance was moving on, this time to much bigger things at a big club, but a different thought entered his mind.

As well as being a manager that would save teams from the drop, was he also becoming a manager who developed talent just to sell them on before achieving anything lasting with them?

He thought back over his three seasons as a manager. The names stacked up: Korytek, sold for 40k. Manolov 42k, Antkowiak 20k, Michalski 20k, Siodowy 26k, Rosário 40k and Gessl 30k.

And now, looking likely, Zygmunt to Lazio for an amount which would be 100 percent profit. Was this just the reality of managing lower rep teams like Ślęza? Would his reputation be known as a relegation survivor as well a stepping stone coach for stepping stone players?

He leaned back in the chair and just let the moment wash over him. No, this isn’t how he saw it for himself. He’d built something here, and was continuing to build whether anyone outside ofthe club recognized it or not. He wasn’t selling players for the sake of it, he was making the club, the team stronger, making smart deals that kept them competitive. If Zygmunt had to go and come back on loan, then it would be on Scotts terms. 

One day, he told himself, his wouldn’t be the team having to sell. One day the talent he’d help develop wouldn’t be leaving him, they’d be winning with him.

-- -- -- -- --

Chapter 40

The deal was done. Patryk Zygmunt was officially a Lazio player. The club confirmed the sale for €55,000, with the crucial agreement that he would remain on loan at Ślęza Wrocław for the season. It was a deal that made financial sense, but as Scott sat in his office staring at the announcement, he still felt a familiar sting. Another player developed, another sale. Another reminder of the gap between where Ślęza was and where he wanted them to be.

But at least this time, he still had Zygmunt for the season ahead. And he wasn’t sitting still.

Alongside the sale, two new players were through the door joining Koftas as permanent signings. Szymon Sobczak, signed for €20k is a pacey, hard working winger that can play both sides, signed to bolster their attacking options. 

He wasn’t a flashy signing, but he had something Scott liked, determination and work ethic, to go with a hunger to prove himself. In a season where every scrap of quality mattered, Sobczak could make the difference.

Then there was Wellington on a free, a Brazilian goalkeeper with raw potential. Sebastian Gessl’s departure had left a gap, and while Gessl wasn’t the finished article, in Wellington Scott saw something more. 

A better shot stopper with quicker reflexes than Gessl, Wellington is seen as an upgrade and the kind of keeper who could make saves Gessl maybe wouldn’t even see coming. 

Sitting in the meeting room with Marcin, Scott leaned back in his chair, exhaling. The squad was coming together, but now the real work started.

‘Three in now, one out but he’s staying anyway’ Marcin said, breaking the silence ‘’squad is about done, what do you think?’

‘I think we’re in for a battle’ Scott said

‘We’ve been here before Scott’

‘Yeah’ Scott said before adding ‘third season for me being the guy attempting to keep a team up. Again, same as the last two times it’s the same mentality, the same struggles fighting for scraps. I want more, I need more’

‘One step at a time’ Maricn said ‘let’s stay up first, then look at progress’

Scott didn’t need reminding. The i liga wasn’t going to be forgiving. They were one of, if not the smallest team in the division, and the reality was simple; they were expected to struggle. The media had them tipped for relegation, most of their opponents had bigger budgets, better players, and stronger squads and would be looking at them as an easy three points.

But Scott had something else. He had a team that fought for him, that believed in his methods and believed in him. They all knew what it was like to grind through a season and come out on top. 

He had a core group that had survived challenges before and if he could instill that same grit, that same underdog mentality, maybe they could prove the doubters wrong.

They wouldn’t outspend the bigger teams, but they could outwork them. That was the plan.

He looked at the squad list again, his eyes settling on Zygmunt’s name. Maybe it was just for one more season, but at least for now, Ślęza Wrocław could rely on him

And they had a fight ahead of them. A fight Scott had no intention of losing.

– – – – --

Chapter 41

The office smelled of old wood and fresh coffee, the kind of scent that lingered long after the conversation ended. Scott Lańkowski leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Aleksander Kwiek, who sat across from him, hands folded, face unreadable.

‘So you’re hanging them up Alex’ he said, a statement, not a question

Kwiek nodded ‘the legs are gone, Scott. I can feel it every time I try to turn, every time I sprint. My mind still sees the play, but my body doesn’t react the way it used to. If I can’t give one hundred percent, then what’s the point in carrying on? It’s time, I know it is’

Scott studied him. The man had been a fixture in Polish football, a veteran, a leader and a key part in the clubs promotion last season. You don’t just replace that kind of experience. But you can find a way to keep it.

‘You ever thought about coaching?’ Scott asked, watching for a reaction.

Kwiek raised an eyebrow ‘not seriously, no’

‘Well, start thinking about it’ Scott held his gaze ‘you’ve been around this game longer than half the squad’s been alive’ this was hyperbole, but Scott was making a point. He continued ‘You know the league, the players, the tricks, the battles. We’re all gonna need all the help we can get this season, and we could use you in that’

Kwiek let the words settle with a smile ‘you offering me something?’

Scott nodded ‘I am. Stay here and join my staff. Help me keep this club in the league this season, and we look to progress next year’

Kwiek exhaled, the first flicker of life creeping back into his tired expression ‘you think I can do it?’

‘I wouldn’t be asking if not. Look at Radler, I saw he could work with the kids and he’s transformed our youth team’

Kwiek ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. He wasn’t expecting this. Scott could see the wheels turning in his head. Finally, he gave a slow nod.

‘Alright boss’ Kwiek said ‘I’m im’

Scott smirked, stood, and shook his hand ‘welcome to the other side of the game’

== == == == ==

Scott barely had time to saviour the moment or go over what he wanted Kwiek to be working on before Marcin was in the office with his laptop folded under his arm ‘done and dusted on those two we spoke to last week’ he said as he sat down and opened the laptop

‘Tardowski the center half couldn’t wait to sign for us. You know what you’re getting with him, solid, got a bit of experience at this level and is purely no nonsense. He won’t play pretty but he’ll stop anything coming through the middle’

Scott nodded, he’d identified another brick wall at the back to play cover for Jaroszek and Malania. He knew what Marcin would be saying next, he’d already spoken to the player in question

‘And Stéphane Kakou. I like this guy, very versatile and he’ll play anywhere not called goalkeeper. He’s happy to sign and play mainly at right full back, covering for Molski but he will do a job anywhere you ask him to’

Scott actually harbored doubts at Kakou. Back in Ottawa in his youth days Scott vividly remembers one thing his coach had said about a versatile team mate while Scott was playing for the Ottawa Braves; ‘a jack of all trades and master of none’. And Scott had been wondering since seeing Kakou if this versatility would be an asset or a liability, in a squad that would need specialists to survive.

Sensing Scotts unease at the singing again Marcin said ‘look he’s got a footballing brain, and he’s adaptable. He’ll do a job for us and be a reason why we survive I’m sure of it’

Accepting the trust Marcin had put in the signings had been a staple of Scotts management of the team, and these two would be no different.

== == == == ==

The season start loomed like a storm on the horizon. First up would be Piast Gilwice in the league. Nothing was guaranteed. Not this league or any league in the sport. Scott knew the weight of expectation was lighter than last season but the fight ahead wasn’t going to be any easier.

As he stepped out onto the training pitch, watching his players sharpen themselves for the battle ahead, he felt it again, that pulse of anticipation, that itch of uncertainty.

The season was coming. And ready or not, so was Ślęza Wrocław.

– – – – --

Chapter 42

Scott Lańkowski stood on the touchline, arms folded, watching as the referee blew for full-time. 3-0. A dream start. The kind of statement victory that sent a message; Ślęza Wrocław weren’t just here to survive, they were here to compete.

Koftas had struck early, picking up right where he left off last season. 

Sobczak had announced himself in style, burying his chance on the stroke of halftime. 

And Leândro had put the finishing touch on a perfect performance.

But Scott wasn’t smiling. Across the pitch, players embraced, hands were raised to the home crowd, but his eyes were on the dugout on Patryk Zygmunt, seated on the bench, his face twisted in frustration. The winger had hobbled off in the second half, and the early diagnosis wasn’t good. Torn knee ligaments. Eight weeks minimum.

Scott exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.

Zygmunt was meant to be the guy this season, the one to step up and carry the attack, the one to show why Lazio had come calling. Now he’d be watching from the stands, his momentum stolen before it had even begun.

Scott gathered the squad in the dressing room. There was sweat, exhaustion, the buzz of a winning team, but he could see the concern in some of them. Zygmunt’s injury had shaken them. He didn’t let the mood drop.

‘That there is exactly how you start a season boys’ he said, voice sharp and cutting through the noise ‘that’s how you make a name for yourself in this league, let everyone know we’re not messing around. We came here as the underdogs but you played like we belong here’

He let that comment sink in before continuing. Glancing at Zygmunt sat in the corner with his leg wrapped he said ‘we lost Patryk today, he’ll be a loss we know that, but we’re not a one player team. We’ll keep going with no excuses and no drop in standards. We’ve got the squad, the spirit and the fight. We’ve just shown everyone else in the league what we’re all about’

There were nods around the room, murmurs of agreement.

Scott turned to Zygmunt and said ‘you’ll be back. Stronger than before. We’ll make sure of it’

Zygmunt met his gaze and nodded once. He was frustrated, but he understood. This team wouldn’t wait for him. They had a job to do.

Scott looked at the rest of them, eyes locking onto each player in turn ‘we’ve set the standard. Now let’s see who’s got the stones to keep it up’

The first win was big. The injury could be bigger. But one game never made a season. The real test was just beginning.

– – – – --

Chapter 43

Scott Lańkowski stepped off the team bus and into the thick evening air of Opole, the hum of anticipation crackling around the stadium. This wasn’t just another game, it was going to be a huge test. Odra Opole are a club built for promotion, a side that had tasted the top flight and were desperate to return following relegation last season. And Ślęza? They were the outsiders, the ones fighting to prove they belonged.

As Scott made his way towards the tunnel, a familiar figure stood waiting.

‘I knew you’d be here early’ Hubert Antkowiak said while smirking, hands in both of his pockets

Scott laughed and said ‘old habits’ as they shook hands. The former Ślęza striker looked different, sharper and more confident. He wasn’t the raw talent Scott sold for 20,000 Euro last summer. He was a decent player now, a proven goalscorer, fifteen goals in the Ekstraklasa last season had seen to that, although it wasn’t enough to stop Odra Opole getting relegated.

‘You had a good season’ Scott admitted ‘fifteen in the top division isn’t bad for someone I had to yell at in training every session’ he finished with a laugh.

Antkowiak laughed ‘you were always right, though. I needed to step up. And I did’

Scott nodded, he had no regrets about selling him, Ślęza were still finding their feet and Antkowiak has proven the move was good for himm. But today, he wasn’t an old friend, he was the enemy

‘I know what you can do’ Scott said with a low voice ‘so don’t expect us to give you an inch’

Antkowiak, probably expecting something like this responded with ‘wouldn’t have it any other way, boss’

As he walked down the tunnel towards the away dressing room he looked out on the pitch as Odra were warming up and spotted another problem waiting for him, Matty Cash.

Released at the end of the season by Nottingham Forest Cash was still a player with experience at a high level and would certainly fit in at levels above the second division in Poland. But like Matt Richie and Dwight Gayle signing for Newcastle in 2016, Cash was expecting this to be a one and done season in the i liga and promotion to the top division is only a matter of when, not if.

Cash has got the engine, the aggression, technique and the ability to take over a game at this level. He might not be the polished player Forest were hoping he would turn into, but in this league he is a weapon.

Scott turned to Pester Bastista as his players were making their way out for the warm up and pointed to Cash ‘he’s gonna be a problem’

Peter nodded ‘yep, we keep him quiet we might have a chance. Thing is he’s got a motor on him, he’ll run all day and not break a sweat’

Scott shrugged in a ‘what can ya do’ kind of way. This could be a game where reputations are built, such as never giving in or laying down for the bigger team. His players would have to be ready.

The past had brought him here, and the present stood in front of him, but the future? That would be decided in the coming weeks.

– – – – --

The whistle blew, and before most of the Odra Opole players had even settled into their shape, Ślęza Wrocław struck. A single devastating ball from Glanowski split the defense, and Leândro, always sharp and ruthless, latched onto it like a predator on the hunt. He took one touch, steadied himself, and slotted it past the onrushing keeper. The net rippled. The away end erupted.

One minute played. 1-0 Ślęza Wrocław.

Scott Lańkowski barely reacted, only a small smirk forming as he turned to Peter Bastista ‘well, that’s one way to start’

But if the goal had stunned Odra, it hadn’t knocked them down. If anything, it woke them up and for the next 44 minutes Ślęza were under siege. 

Odra came forward in waves, constant, relentless and suffocating. Antkowiak was a menace, dragging defenders wide, finding space where none should exist. Matty Cash dictated the tempo with spraying passes that Ślęza couldnt keep track of. Cash kept on charging forward and always seemed a second away from breaking the game wide open.

In the 29th minute, a cross from the left found Antkowiak unmarked at the far post. He connected sweetly with a header, but Wellington was there to push the ball around the post with a quick reaction save. From the corner, an inswinger from Cash to the near post saw an Odra player rise highest with a header, only for it to clip the bar as it went over.

In the 35th minute Cash, easily the best player in the game found a pocket of space and unleashed a rocket from just outside the area, only for Malania to throw himself in front of it at the last possible moment.

The entire half was a defensive battle, a storm that never relented. And yet, at halftime, the scoreboard remained unchanged. 1-0 in favour of Ślęza.

Scott walked into the dressing room, his usual calm demeanor cracked by rare excitement ‘this is what it looks like when you refuse to give in. they came at us and we’re still standing. Stay disciplined, keep frustrating the, and they’ll get desperate’ were his words at the half. 

The players nodded, they got the message, and they believed. But the home team weren’t done.

The second half was more of the same, attack after attack. Ślęza were pushed deeper and deeper and eventually the pressure told.

Antkowiak spun away from his marker and into the box, chasing a through ball. Mroz, usually reliable in the tackle left his foot out, just a fraction late. Contact. A whistle. Scott swore under his breath.

Antkowiak stepped up to the spot. The stadium fell silent.

A short run up. A crisp and no nonsense strike. Wellington guessed right, but the ball was too well placed, nestling into the corner.

Antkowiak wheeled away in celebration, sprinting toward the Odra fans, pumping his fists, roaring in delight. No muted celebration, no respect for his former club, just a player enjoying his moment.

Scott clenched his jaw. 1-1. And before Ślęza could steady themselves, the hammer blow fell 2 minutes later.

A foul just outside the box the ref didn’t hesitate to call. Scott knew what was coming before the ref even placed the ball down. Matty Cash stood over it, eyes locked on goal.

The whistle. A short jog. A strike that bent around the wall, dipped at the last second into the near corner, and kissed the back of the net.

Cash slid to his knees, arms outstretched, soaking in the adulation. Scott barely moved. 2-1 Odra. The game felt lost. But Ślęza were nothing if not stubborn.

They absorbed more pressure, hung on, waiting, hoping for one last chance, which did come on the counter.

Leândro picked up the ball from a clearance just inside his own half. He turned and drove forward with the ball at his feet. With one defending player in front of him he knocked the ball wide and latched onto it, quicker than the covering player. The second defending player tried and failed to catch the forward as he cut inside the box.

The keeper onrushing there was no angle, no team mate in support, just instinct. A drop of the left shoulder as the keeper hesitated, then a quick flick of his right boot on the ball as it curled into the bottom of the net. An exquisite solo goal out of nothing.

Scott exhaled, finally allowing himself a smirk. 2-2. The final whistle came minutes later. A hard fought point.

Scott gathered his team ‘that’s the fight I want to see. We took their best shots, and we’re still standing. That’s what’ll keep us up this season’

They hadn’t won, but they hadn’t lost either. Against the league’s favorites, they had held their ground.

And that, for now, was enough.

– – – – --

Chapter 44

Two games brought with them two wins and a step closer to making some noise in the Polish cup.

The dressing room after the Górniczy match, a solid 4-2 home victory, was a picture of satisfaction. Not wild celebrations, Ślęza weren’t the kind of team to get carried away, but the kind of quiet confidence that comes from doing exactly what was needed was present all around. Scott Lańkowski stood near the door, arms folded, watching his players bask in the glow of another win.

2-1 against ROW Rybnik in the preliminary round, a tougher game than expected and they went behind after eighteen minutes, but rallied and with goals from Koftas and Jakobczyk grabbing the win to progress. Then a statement win at home against Górniczy, 4-2, where center half Malania got on the end of two Mroz corners, and Kotfas and Zygmunt wrapping up the win.

They were through and that’s what mattered.

Peter Bastista walked over, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth ‘not bad for a team just trying to stay in the league eh boss’

Scott exhaled, nodding ‘not bad mate, not bad at all’

The reality was this cup run was doing more than just giving Ślęza extra games, it was forging an identity. They weren’t just a scrappy second division side hoping to survive anymore, they were proving they could go toe-to-toe with good teams and control games.

Koftas sat at his locker, unwrapping the tape from his socks, already eyeing Scott ‘so boss,” he called out, are we going for this cup or not?’

Scott smirked. He liked Koftas’ attitude and replied with ‘every game we play, we play it to win. We know the next round will be harder but so what? We keep going, one game at a time’

Around the room heads nodded and silent acknowledgments were given to the boss. This was a team that Scott believed in and they were starting to believe in themselves. Scott finished off by saying ‘a cup run will put a few more eyes on us’

Peter and Marcin, Scotts trusted colleagues knew this already and had mentioned it in passing, to which Scott related to the team. With the extra eyes came expectation, more pressure, but maybe even the kind of attention that could get his name out there in the wider footballing world.

== == == == ==

The next day in the small and cluttered office at Ślęza Wrocław’s training ground, Marcin and Peter sat in front of an old television, eyes fixed on the screen as the Polish Cup draw unfolded. A half drunk coffee sat on the desk beside Marcin, long since gone cold. Peter leaned forward in his chair tapping his fingers against the armrest in anticipation.

Scott wasn’t there as he had stepped out to take a call, something club related but nothing urgent that Peter and Marcin were needed for. That left the two of them waiting, watching as the names were pulled from the pot.

The suspense built with each pairing until finally, the screen displayed it:

Ślęza Wrocław vs. Śląsk Wrocław

For a moment neither man spoke. Then it was Peter that broke the silence with a laugh, loud, sharp and full of disbelief followed by ‘no way, he isn’t going believe this’

Marcin exhaled, his face as usual unreadable but he said ‘well that’s something isn’t it’

Peter turned with booming smile and gleaming eyes ‘it’s absolutely everything Marcin! You realise what this means don’t you? A home tie against Śląsk. A proper Wrocław derby. And it’s Scotts team too!’

Marcin just chuckled and said ‘yeah he’s gonna love this’ as Peter was already grabbing his phone and said ‘I need to tell him’

Scott was stood outside the office, seemingly on the way in as Peter burst through the door, practically bouncing on his feet ‘Scott! There you are. You’re not going to believe this’

Scott looked at him, raised an eyebrow and said ‘okay, I’ll bite, what is it?’

Peter smirked, savoring the moment ‘we got Śląsk, at home’

Scott blinked and let the comment register before saying ‘what?’

‘Some team called Śląsk Wrocław. In the cup. At home in the next round’

For a second Scott said nothing. Then, finally, he let out a breath and said ‘I’m not falling for the bait, Pete, who did we really get?’

Peter shook his head, grinning ‘no joke this time, boss. Your club, your childhood team. Right here, against us’

Scott ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. Of all the draws they could have gotten still in the cup, Legia Warsaw, Lechia Gdańsk, Wisla Krakow, Cracovia Krakow and they were drawn with Śląsk Wrocław.

Marcin had joined them now with a knowing smile on his face ‘so Scott, how do you feel about facing the club you grew up supporting?’

Scott exhaled, a mix of nerves and anticipation settling in his chest ‘to be fair I don’t, I don’t really know. Whether I should be buzzing or terrified’ he waited a moment and said ‘I best call the old man he’ll be having kittens’

Not really understanding the meaning of that comment Peter just clapped him on the back and said ‘well we better figure it out and figure it out quickly. This game is gonna be massive’

-- -- -- -- --

Chapter 45

Scott Lańkowski wasn’t the type to let nerves get the better of him. He’d been in pressure situations before, a couple of relegation battles, the promotion chase last season and games where a single mistake could define a season. But this? This was something else entirely. Facing Śląsk Wrocław, the club he grew up supporting, the club he dreamed of playing for as a kid, was different. It was personal.

The days leading up to the match were a blur of preparation, tactics, and the usual press obligations. But beneath it all the weight of the occasion pressed down on him in a way he hadn’t quite expected.

Late one evening, as he sat in his flat, phone in hand, he did something he hadn’t done in a while, he called his dad.

Piotr Lańkowski answered almost immediately ‘hello son’

‘You’ve heard I take it?’

‘Yes my boy, I’ve heard. How are you feeling about it?’

Scott exhaled, waited a moment and said ‘I don’t know. It’s weird dad. I’ve faced challenges already, in some ways bigger challenges, but this one, it’s Śląsk’

‘You’re nervous aren’t you’

Quick as a beat Scott said ‘behave. I don’t get nervous’

‘Of course you do’ the older Lanowski countered ‘you’re just better at hiding it than a lot of other people’

Scott sat still a moment, then admitted, quietly ‘I don’t know what I want from this game. I want us to win, Sleza, obviously. I want to see how far we can go in the cup. But there’s that part of me that still feels like a kid wanting Śląsk to win. What do you think about this game?’

Piotr’s voice softened ‘Scott, you’re not that kid anymore. You’re a manager, Ślęza’s manager. And if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you don’t do anything halfway. As for me, you know better than anyone that family comes first. I’ll be cheering both teams on, if Śląsk win, great, but if you win then even better. You want to win, don’t you’ A statement, not a question.

Scott hesitated. Then, with more conviction, he said ‘yeah. I do’

‘Then go and do that’ ‘Piotr said simply ‘I’ll always love and support Śląsk, as will you, but you’re my son and you’re the manager of Sleza, the team I am following now'

Scott felt his chest tighter as he smiled and said ‘thanks dad’

‘Just enjoy it, son. Give it your all, make sure your boys turn up and you’ll be fine’

Scott laughed, shaking his head ‘I’ll do my best’

As he hung up, he felt a little lighter. The nerves were still there, but so was something else; determination.

This wasn’t about his childhood club anymore. This was about his club, his players, and his moment.

And when matchday came, Scott Lańkowski would be ready.

– – – – --

A sold out crowd packed the Sleza home ground. The noise was relentless, a swirling mix of hopeful Ślęza chants and the deeper, more commanding roars of the Śląsk Wrocław fans. For Scott Lańkowski, it was surreal.

He stood in the technical area with crossed arms, eyes sharp. His team, his Ślęza, were facing Śląsk, the team that had shaped his love for football. But there was no time for sentiment now. This was a cup tie, and he wanted his team to show that they belonged.

The game began at a measured pace. Śląsk, the Ekstraklasa, the Polish Premier League side, were in no hurry to take the game to their lower league neighbours. They kept possession, passing side to side, waiting for gaps to appear. Ślęza held firm, disciplined, patient. Latka, the captain and the young full back and Bohdanowicz marshaled the back line, pressing at the right times, forcing Śląsk to play in front of them. Mroz, Glanowski, Maksimovic and Molski were disciplined in midfield. Koftas, the former Śląsk player and Leândro the two forwards had kept putting the defence under pressure at the right time with the energy Scott wanted to see.

And Scott liked what he saw. This wasn’t a team overawed by the occasion, they weren’t throwing themselves forward recklessly, nor were they just sitting back and absorbing pressure. They were waiting patiently. Waiting for their chance.

Then, in the 22nd minute a moment of misjudgment. Śląsk worked the ball down the right, their fullback overlapping and sending in a low cross. Sulimani, their lone striker cut out wide and got in front of Maksimović, who lunged far too late. The striker tumbled, and the referee didn’t hesitate. Penalty.

Scotts jaw tightened as he shook his head in disbelief. He turned to the fourth official and shouted ‘that’s soft come on now’ but he, along with everyone else in the stadium knew there wasn’t much of an argument. Maksimovic had been wrong footed and couldn’t make amends.

Sulimani placed the ball down. Wellington bounced on his line, arms out trying to make himself look big. The whistle blew.

Goal.

Wellington guessed the right way, diving to his left but Sulimani’s penalty was too precise, flying into the bottom corner. 1-0 Śląsk.

Scott glared at Maksimovic who couldn’t meet his bosses gaze. But Scott shouted ‘stay calm, we’re still in this’

And to be fair to them, they were still in the game. Ślęza kept their shape, refused to panic and didn’t allow Śląsk to run away with the game. By the time the halftime whistle blew, it was still only 1-0.

The home dressing room was quiet at the half, everyone still focussed on the game despite the score. There was no dejection, no slumped shoulders and no on feeling sorry for themselves. Just players catching their breath and waiting for the manager to speak.

Scott stood before them scanning the room and his mind already set on what he was going to say ‘we’re not out, not by a long shot. We are still in this game. We’ve kept them quiet and the chances they’ve ahd we’ve dealt with. Other than that penalty they’ve not had a real chance at our goal’ he let that sink in before continuing ‘but we’re not here to keep them quiet. We want to win’

A few nods and murmurs from the players as they got up to go back out the pitch. Before they left Scott said ‘we’re going to get a chance, and when we do, we take it, just be ready’

From the moment the second half began Ślęza played with more intent. They pushed higher, pressed harder, and slowly, the balance of the game began to shift. And in the 53rd minute, their moment arrived.

Mroz won the ball in midfield and immediately threaded a pass through the heart of the Śląsk defense and the covering defender, Morioka, slipped as he tried to intercept it. Leândro saw the loose ball before the other defender could react and pounced.

One touch on his left to steady himself, another to his right and as he controlled the ball the stadium held it’s breath. The keeper rushed out to meet him but he was a fraction too late, Leândro lashed the ball low and hard into the net. 1-1. Game on.

For a second, there was silence. Then, an explosion of noise.

Scott punched the air, letting out a roar as the stadium erupted. The Ślęza bench leapt to their feet, Peter Bastista grabbing Marcin by the shoulders and shaking him in pure joy. The fans? They were going wild.

Scott turned to his staff, grinning ‘I knew we’d get a chance’

Leândro sprinted toward the corner flag, arms outstretched, before being mobbed by his teammates.

The clock ticked toward 90 minutes, and the tension inside the stadium was suffocating. Śląsk pressed forward, eager to avoid extra time, but Ślęza stood firm.

Every clearance, every tackle, every desperate block felt like an act of defiance. Tadrowski flung himself in front of a shot from Sulimani inside the box, there were calls for a handball but the ref wasn't interested in awarding the away team another penalty. Mroż wrestled for every inch of space in midfield. Wellington, calm and collected, plucked a looping cross from the air, eating up precious seconds.

Scott paced the touchline, arms folded tightly across his chest. Every pass felt heavier. Every second stretched.  Then one last surge from Śląsk, a deep cross, a rising header from Sulimani looking to double his tally wne towards goal it went just wide at the last possible moment.

Scott exhaled. The whistle blew. Full time. 1-1.

No wild celebrations, no relief yet. Extra time awaited.

The players shuffled into the dressing drained but defiant. Sweat dripped from their brows, shirts clung to their bodies. No one slumped or even sat down, no one looked beaten, they were raring to go out again.

Scott stood in front of them, his voice sharp, direct ‘we are thirty minutes away from knocking them out’ he said, scanning the room ‘thirty minutes, that’s it’

A pause.‘We’ve fought too hard to stop now. They’re tiring. You feel it. I feel it. They don’t want this to go all the way’. A few nods, he could see it in their eyes. Belief.

‘So here’s what we do. We keep our shape. We keep working. And when we get the chance, just like that goal we got, we take it’

He looked at each one of them, letting the moment settle. This was their chance.

‘Thirty minutes. That’s all that’s left’  A deep breath. A moment, ‘now let’s finish this’

Extra time started and it was Śląsk that were controlling the opening stages. They were pressing hard, they were desperate not to go out to a lower league team. Their full backs had pushed up constantly, their midfielders camped in Ślęza’s half, searching for the breakthrough. It was all Śląsk for the much of the first half of extra time.

The game carried on and from another Śląsk attack, a loose pass infield was followed up with a mistimed touch, and suddenly, the chance was there.

The ball spilled to Leândro inside the Śląsk half. Onside, with nothing but a trailing defender behind him and the onrushing keeper in front of him. Scott saw it before anyone else, including Leândro.

‘Goooooo’ he roared willing his striker on as he raced up the touchline to be in line with the ball. 
 

Leândro didn’t need telling twice. With a deft touch he was away from the defender with just the keeper to beat.

Composure personified. He stopped, briefly to drop his left shoulder wrong footing the keeper, shimmied to his right and slotted the ball into the net. Bottom corner. 2-1. Scenes.

The stadium erupted. The Ślęza fans went wild. On the touchline, Scott punched the air, his heart hammering.

There were still six minutes left. Six minutes that felt like a lifetime as Śląsk threw everything forward. A barrage of crosses, a swarm of white and green shirts.

One was nodded toward goal which Wellington tipped it over.

A corner curled in, a Tardowski rose highest, heading clear.

Scott’s throat was raw from shouting 'stay compact! Hold the line!'

The fourth official held up the board: 3 added minutes.

Śląsk won another free kick. A dangerous position.

The Śląsk players stood over it. Scott clenched his fists.

The whistle blew and it was taken quickly, too quickly and it hammered into the wall.

The clearance sent the ball back into the Śląsk half, where Koftas chased it down, shielding it near the corner flag, using every second.

Scott checked his watch. 'Blow it, ref' he kept saying to himself

A final long ball was launched into Ślęza’s box. One last test. Wellington rose, caught it, collapsed onto the ground.

And then......

The whistle.

Ślęza Wrocław 2-1 Śląsk Wrocław.

Scott exhaled, then roared. The bench emptied onto the pitch. Players swarmed Leândro, dragging him into their celebrations.

A giant had fallen. And Ślęza Wrocław, the underdogs, had done the unthinkable.

– – – – --

Chapter 46

The award sat on Scotts desk, gleaming under the lights in the small office. Manager of the month for August 2019. Five wins from six and a dream start to the new season. Ślęza Wrocław were flying.

But Scott wasn’t the type to bask in accolades, not when there was bad news to deliver.

The dressing room was still buzzing from the latest victory, 2-0 away at ROW Rybnik when Scott stepped inside, his expression dimming the mood.

‘Alright, listen up boys’ he said, folding his arms ‘we’ve got a problem, Kakou’s out with a broken foot. Four months at least’

The room went silent. Kakou had been solid at right back and had filled in across the back line, his versatility a major asset. Leândro shook his head ’that’s a tough one’

‘It is’ Scott said and continued with ‘but we all know that’s what happens in the game and it’s how we react that matters. We’re seventh in the league, you’re playing well, that’s why I got the award, but there’s no excuses and we keep going on like we have’

They followed up the league wins with another in the cup, 2-1 away at Polonia Warsawa which only strengthened the teams resolve and belief. They weren’t just showing they were here to survive in the league, but they were here to compete in the cup as well.

Come the end of September they had seventeen points from ten league games, meaning they sat respectably in seventh, exceeding everyone's expectations.

But not everyone in the league was thriving.

Roughly sixty miles away in Opole, the league favourites Odra had seen things falling apart at the seams. Despite boasting the two best players in the league, forward Antkowiak with his 7 goals and right back cum central midfielder Matty Cash, they’d had a string of poor results and the manager was gone. And suddenly Scott’s phone wouldn’t stop going off.

The rumor mill was relentless. Whilst not the media favourite for the job there was still plenty of interest from reporters contacting the club and Scott for comments. One paper in Wrocław  lead with the headline ‘Lańkowski Top of Odra Opole Shortlist’, and Sport Poland ran a piece titled ‘Lańkowski to Opole? Promotion Project Awaits for the up and coming manager’

Scott paid no attention to the rumors. His dad had told him enough times that success attracts attention. Marcin had walked into the office and said ‘seen you’re leaving us’ with a smile.

Scott laughed and said ‘shut up you, I’m not interested’

‘Good but they’ll probably keep asking for a quote’

‘Then let’s give them one’

At training later that morning there was a couple of straggling reporters hovering outside the ground, waiting, anticipating. Scott made the first move and walked over and before they could evena sk the question Scott spoke ‘let me clear, I’m the manager here, in Wrocław and I’m staying the manage of Ślęza’

One young journo asked ‘you’re not even tempted by the favourites for the league title then?’

‘Tempted is a strange word isn’t it. But no, I’m not interested in the job I’ve got a job here and we’re not finished yet’

As the players filed out of the ground they’d been told by the boss himself that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Before the match against Stal Mielec, Scott spotted a familiar figure during warm-ups. Mateusz Michalski who had left at the start of last season

He had been part of Ślęza’s promotion team last season only to be sold for €20,000. Now, he was at a club expected to challenge for promotion again. Scott approached him with a grin.

‘Didn’t expect to see you back in this league so soon’ he said with a handshake

Michalski smirked ‘didn’t expect you to still be here, either boss’

Scott laughed ‘we’re both full of surprises’

‘No hard feelings?’ Michalski asked.

‘None at all’ Scott said, surprised Michalski even said it ‘you wanted to move up, I get it. But let’s see how much you’ve really moved up’

The match itself was a battle.

Mielec dominated early, forcing Wellington into two key saves. But Ślęza held firm, and in the 87th minute, a deflected shot flew into the bottom corner to give them the lead.

Mielec hit back minutes later from the spot. Kluzek pushed the forward in the box, a stupid mistake really. But the game finished 1-1, a hard earned point on the road.

Days later, Ślęza traveled to Chojniczanka and tore them apart.

A 5-0 demolition. Ruthless, relentless, undeniable.

By the end of September, Ślęza Wrocław sat 4th in the table, on 17 points.

Scott could feel it now that this team wasn’t just here to survive. They were here to compete.

And the feeling around the club? Stronger than ever.

-- -- -- -- --

Chapter 47

The morning after the resounding 5-0 win over Chojniczanka Scott Lańkowski arrived at the Ślęza Wrocław office feeling the kind of satisfaction that only comes with success. The team was clicking, momentum was on their side and they had stormed into the top four. The club was buzzing.

But as soon as he stepped into the office, he could tell something was off. Peter Bastista sat beside him, arms crossed, and Marcin had that look, like he was about to drop something Scott wouldn’t like.

‘They’ve made it official’ Marcin said, opening his laptop to reveal an email

Scott frowned, looking at the screen. His eyes skimmed to the title bar and locked on the words:

Odra Opole requests permission to interview to Ślęza Wrocław manager Scott Lańkowski.

He exhaled sharply. He heard the rumors and had even been asked about them. But this? A formal offer. The club that had been promotion favorites before the season, now struggling, wanted him to fix their mess.

Peter was the first to speak ‘you don’t have to do anything with it. But this is a big deal. They’re a club with a bigger budget, bigger stadium, they’ve spent years in the top tier….'

‘I’m not interested’ Scott cut him off, shaking his head ‘not even for a second’

Marcin leaned forward ‘are you….’ Scott cut him off too

‘No’ firmer this time. He pushed the laptop back toward Marcin and looked him in the eyes ‘we’re building something here. We’re fourth in the league. Fourth, Marcin. It might last forever but I’m not, no, WE’RE not leaving now part way through the season’

Marcin said ‘I had a feeling you’d say that. Shall I reply with the rejection or do you want to tell them yourself?’

Scott leaned back and said ‘just tell them we’re focussed on progress here for now. Between us things might change but go with that for now’

And with that, the offical door to Odra Opole closed.

By the time the winter break arrived Ślęza Wrocław were still fourth in the table. The notion they’d be fighting relegation was a distant memory and the players had performed above expectations. Scott, Peter and Marcin were determined to keep the momentum going.

But as January rolled in, so did the offers.

Patryk Jez, the 19 year old midfielder from the youth team who had been steadily growing into one of the league’s most promising young talents, was suddenly at the center of a bidding war. Scouts from a handful of teams had been watching him for months, and now Fiorentina had made their move.

Marcin placed his laptop onto his desk ‘first bid rejected. Ninetyfive thousand euros’

Scott let out a low sigh ‘it’s a start’

‘I told them no and that he’s worth a lot more’ Marcin smirk ‘I said we want two hundred and fifty’

Scott raised an eyebrow ‘ambitious, very ambitious’

‘They came back at one eighty’

Silence hung between them for a moment. Scott then said ‘that’s... actually not bad’

Marcin nodded and said ‘it’s decent and all profit, but we’re going to need a replacement’

Scott leaned forward ‘get the scouts on it. I want someone lined up before we even think about finalizing this’

Marcin nodded and said he’d get the scouts out. Scott sat back, drumming his fingers against the desk. Another young talent heading for bigger things. Another name added to the growing list of players he and Ślęza had developed and sold as the deal was done.

Patryk Jez was officially a Fiorentina player with €180,000 wired into Ślęza Wrocław’s account.

Scott sat in the office staring at the email confirming the transfer. He should have been happy, the club had just secured a record fee for a young midfielder who had come through their system. But instead, there was a familiar weight in his chest.

Another talent gone. Another player he had believed in, developed, and trusted was moving on before they could achieve anything lasting together.

He pushed his chair back and made his way down to the training pitch, where Jez was saying his goodbyes.

The young midfielder looked a little nervous, shifting from foot to foot as Scott approached.

‘Didn’t think I’d be leaving this soon’ Jez admitted.

Scott exhaled through his nose, nodding ‘yeah, me neither’

There was a pause, then Scott patted him on the shoulder ‘but it’s a hell of a move, Patryk, you’ve earned it. Fiorentina’s a big club and you’ve got a chance to make something of yourself there’

Jez smiled, a little more confident now ‘I owe it all to you Scott’

Scott smirked and laughed ‘damn right you do’

They shook hands, and for a moment Scott saw all the potential that had just walked out the door. But he pushed the thought aside.

‘Knock em’ dead, kid’ Scott said firmly, and just like that Patryk Jez was gone to pastures new.

Scott watched him leave, hands on his hips and the cold January wind cutting through his jacket.

Another one leaves.

‘One day, it won’t be like this’ he said to himself. He wasn’t against it, it was part of football. But one day, he wanted to keep them long enough to win something.

– – – – --

Scott had barely finished processing the loss of Patryk Jez when Marcin walked into his office, looking far too pleased with himself.

‘Wisła Kraków came in for Kwiatkowski,” he said, dropping into the chair across from Scott.

Scott sighed, leaning back ‘of course they did.I spoke to Artur about it earlier’

‘Relax’ Marcin grinned ‘it’s handled’

Scott raised an eyebrow ‘meaning?’

‘Meaning we got €40k, and he stays here until the end of the season’

That was something, at least. Kwiatkowski had become an important part of the squad, and losing him mid season would have hurt.

‘Good work’ Scott said

Marcin smirked, clearly enjoying himself ‘that’s not everything boss’

Scott frowned, the unease on his face evident ‘what else?’

‘I spoke with Piotr Stokowiec during the negotiations for Artur, we spoke about Kamil Karczewski, the young kid René Ortner has been scouting in the under 19’s league, lots of raw potential, but he’s not getting near their first team’

Marcin grinned and said ‘he’s happy to sell. Says the kid’s got a great future, but Wisła Kraków aren’t the place for him, not this season. They’re struggling near the bottom of the Ekstraklasa, fighting for survival, in his own words there’s no time to ease in youngsters’

Scott nodded. It happens every season, when a team is battling to stay up, potential takes a backseat to experience. Managers couldn’t afford to let a kid grow into the game when every point mattered.

‘They do rate him’ Marcin continued ‘just not enough to risk points on him. Ślęza, though? We’d be perfect’

Scott nodded slowly. It wasn’t often a manager admitted they weren’t the right club for a player but it was exactly the kind of opportunity Ślęza needed to pounce on.

‘Go for it. I’ll read Rene’s report on him today and I trust yours and his judgement’ Scott said, already thinking ahead.

Marcin gave a lazy salute ‘we’ve got a call later on to finalise things with him’

Another player out, another player in.

The cycle never stopped.

-- -- -- -- --

January 2020 news

Liverpool fans have had a rough few seasons, but surely, surely this season would be different? Spoiler alert; It wasn’t.

Their transfer business was, to put it kindly, a shambles. They splashed €40 million on Yoshinori Mutô, a man who scored exactly TWO goals last season for Mainz. That’s €20 million per goal, not bad if you’re Mainz, but absolutely horrific if you’re Liverpool. 

Meanwhile, they offloaded Adam Lallana back to Southampton for €21 million which, considering Liverpool’s track record in the transfer market might actually go down as a rare moment of competence. To rub salt in the wounds, Lallana has since been called up to the England squad and is putting in performances for Southampton that Liverpool fans can only wish he’d managed during his time at Anfield.

And then there’s the Firmino / Haaland disaster class. Roberto Firmino, who Liverpool let go to Dortmund, has already banged in 13 goals in the Bundesliga, which is more than any Liverpool player has managed this season. But if you thought that was bad, get this, Erling Haaland, who they sold for just £2 million, has scored 17 in 18 games for Salzburg. That sound you hear? It’s Liverpool fans crying into their pints at the Albert Dock.

With Liverpool lingering in midtable, patience finally ran out in December. Phillip Cocu was sacked when they sat in 12th place, after Marcel Sabitzer, Stokes big money signing from Spurs in the summer, of all people scored the winner for Stoke City at Anfield in a humiliating 2-1 loss. Cocu became their third manager in four seasons which is the kind of turnover you expect at a dodgy kebab shop, not a club that once ruled Europe.

But just when you thought Liverpool couldn’t be any more of a laughing stock, they went and did the impossible, wait for it……..they hired John Terry as manager. 

Yes, John Terry. The man whose managerial CV consisted of six months running Nottingham Forest’s U23s and then scraping Norwich into the Premier League via the playoffs.

The best part? If Liverpool had waited just three more days, they could’ve had Rafa Benítez, who left Spurs and is actually qualified for the job. Instead, they got a bloke who is better known for his extracurricular activities than his tactical expertise. Let’s just say, if Liverpool’s players aren’t pulling their weight on the pitch, they might want to keep an eye on what’s happening off it, especially at home. 

Because if Liverpool’s players don’t start performing under Terry, it’s not benching they should be worried about. It’s their wives.

In a move that has left many scratching their heads, Thorsten Fink has decided to swap the comfort of managing Russian champions Zenit Saint Petersburg for the never ending chaos of Tottenham Hotspur, replacing Rafa Benitez. Yes, you read that right, he’s leaving a club that actually wins things for one that specializes in bottling them.

At Zenit, Fink had stability, silverware, and a squad built to dominate domestically and at least challenge in Europe, the third place in Group B (alongside Ajax, Benfica and Bayern Munich) of this years Champions League and subsequent Europa League place a testament to that. At Spurs, he has…..well, Daniel Levy breathing down his neck and a squad that looks allergic to success. 

He can still call on Harry Kane’s services, however his form has completely fallen off a cliff. The man that at one time couldn’t stop scoring now looks like he couldn’t hit a barn door with a beach ball. His finishing has been so bad this season that Spurs fans and pundits alike are starting to wonder if he’s actually a defensive midfielder in disguise. With Kane’s constant misfiring, the Spurs attack looks about as dangerous as a Nerf gun, leaving Fink with the unenviable task of getting the striker back to his best, or at least scoring more than his own defenders.

Some might say this is ambition, others might call it career sabotage. Either way, Fink has left a job where he was almost guaranteed to add to his trophy collection for one where a fourth place finish gets a parade.

Best of luck, Thorsten,you’re going to need it.

== == == == ==
 

As January 2020 kicked off, the Premier League table had taken a turn for the bizarre. Chelsea and Arsenal are locked in an intense title race at the top, Man City are lurking in third, and in fourth place, defying all logic, expectations, and possibly the laws of football itself, there is Southampton.

Yes, Southampton. The same club that usually spends January fighting off relegation, selling half their squad, or both. But this season? They’re sitting in a Champions League spot like they actually belong there. It’s like turning up to a five star restaurant and seeing someone eating a Greggs sausage roll at the table next to you. 

Leading the charge for the Saints is Charlie Austin, who has somehow discovered the form of a prime Alan Shearer and banged in 12 goals. His strike partner? Radamel Falcao. Yes, the same Falcao that Chelsea and Man United fans remember as a very expensive spectator. But at Southampton this season he has 11 goals already.

And then there’s Breel Embolo, their record breaking €82 million signing. Many laughed when they spent that kind of money, but he’s been tearing it up with 14 assists and 8 goals. That’s right, the most unexpected big money signing in Premier League history is actually paying off.

Southampton in the top four. Charlie Austin out scoring some of the league’s biggest names. Falcao looking like he actually remembers how to play football. If this isn’t proof we’re living in a simulation, I don’t know what is.

Who had John Guidetti as the Premier League’s top scorer in January? Anyone? No one? Well, here we are, Newcastle’s Swedish sensation is setting the league alight with 16 goals, proving that sometimes football really is a funny old game.

Hot on his heels is Paulo Dybala (14 goals), because of course he is, he’s Paulo Dybala. The Argentine is doing what he does best, and even after Manchester City’s transfer window chaos, more on that shortly, he remains their most reliable attacking force.

And then there’s Callum Wilson (13 goals), who refuses to be ignored. Bournemouth might not be challenging for the title, but Wilson is showing you don’t need to play for a superclub to bang in the goals.

With half a season left to play, the race for the Golden Boot is shaping up to be a three horse thriller, unless, of course, someone else decides to go on a second half of the season goal rampage. Either way, Newcastle fans are loving life, because for the first time in ages, they’ve got a striker actually putting the ball in the net consistently.

The January window is always a time for panic buys, overpriced transfers, and decisions that make absolutely no sense. Enter Manchester City.

First, they actually did some smart business, snapping up Federico Bernardeschi from Barcelona for £30 million. A tidy signing, a player with quality, and a move that makes complete sense.

And then… Thomas Tuchel decided to break football.

Because for reasons only he and possibly a magic eight ball understand, City have just sold Kevin De Bruyne to Real Madrid for £75 million. Kevin. De Bruyne. 

The best playmaker, if not the best player in the world. The guy who could find a pass in a hurricane blindfolded. The heartbeat of City's midfield. Gone.

What was Tuchel thinking? Did he lose a bet? Did he wake up and decide to make life harder for himself? Has he accidentally mistaken De Bruyne for an average squad player? Nobody knows, but City fans are absolutely losing their minds. Selling your best player in the middle of a title race is like setting your own house on fire and then acting surprised when it burns down.

Meanwhile, at Real Madrid, Florentino Pérez is probably laughing himself to sleep. De Bruyne joins a squad that already boasts Cristiano Ronaldo, Gareth Bale, Luka Modrić, goal machine Andrea Belotti and a bottomless pit of talent. If Madrid weren’t scary enough already, they’ve now got a guy who can split defences open like a hot knife through butter.

Tuchel, mate, are you okay?

Torsten Fink has wasted no time in trying to make Spurs relevant again, splashing €45 million on Manuel Locatelli from AC Milan. A solid midfielder for sure, but let’s be honest, why on earth is he leaving AC Milan for Tottenham?

This is a guy who grew up at Milan, played in the San Siro regularly and was part of a club with actual history and prestige. Now, he’s traded all that for Spurs, where the biggest tradition is bottling trophies and finishing just outside the top four. Was he tricked into signing? Did Fink tell him he was actually joining Arsenal or did Locatelli think Fink was still at Zenit? Whatever the reason, Locatelli has made a decision he might regret by about March.

Not stopping there though, as Spurs also threw £20 million at Schalke for Matija Nastasić. A decent defender, but let’s not pretend this is prime Maldini walking through the door. At this rate, Fink’s master plan for Tottenham’s revival is spending big on players who aren’t exactly game changers.

Still, at least it’s not another ‘one for the future’ signing, Spurs fans have seen enough of those to last a lifetime.

Remember Ganso? If you ever played Football Manager back in the day, you’ll know exactly why this transfer feels like it was made in 2012, not 2020.

Leicester have dipped into the nostalgia vault and signed the former Brazilian wonderkid from Schalke for £10 million. Once touted as the next big thing, Ganso was supposed to be the heir to Kaká, the midfield maestro every big club wanted. Fast forward to today, and he’s taking his talents to the King Power Stadium instead.

To be fair it feels like a Football Manager regen has just come to life. Somewhere out there FM veterans are shedding a tear, reminiscing about the days when signing Ganso meant instant domination. Whether this move actually works out for Leicester or just ends up as a weird piece of transfer trivia remains to be seen.

Kevin Kampl has waved goodbye to Bayer Leverkusen and Jurgen Klopp and more importantly, European football to chase the big money in China, joining Huaxia for a ridiculous €50 million. Yes, fifty million. For Kevin Kampl.

Let’s be frank, how did Huaxia come to this decision? Did they accidentally add an extra zero to the transfer offer? Was there a clerical error where they thought they were bidding for a world class midfielder? Nobody’s quite sure, but one thing is clear; Kampl is about to be swimming in cash while playing in front of half empty stadiums.

Meanwhile, Klopp wasted no time in spending some of that fortune, using €18 million of it to bring Philippe Coutinho in from Barcelona. 

But why Leverkusen? Did they outbid everyone in the Bundesliga with their charm offensive? Did Coutinho just fancy a new adventure? Or did Klopp just offer him a stack of cash and a promise of first team football? Maybe they threw in a free pair of leather shorts, who knows? Either way, Leverkusen fans can’t decide whether to be absolutely over the moon or slightly concerned that this is the start of another weird footballing chapter. It’s one thing for a player to leave Barcelona for a Bundesliga side; it’s another to see if he can live up to the hype once again. Time will tell if Coutinho can rediscover his best form or if he’ll just end up regretting this as much as Barcelona probably did.

Borussia Dortmund have opened their wallets once again, snapping up João Cancelo from Valencia for €33 million. Given how solid Cancelo has been this season, leading La Liga in average rating (8.38), assists (13) and tackles made (38), you have to wonder how Valencia let this one happen, did they accidentally agree to the deal while half asleep? For Dortmund, it’s another quality addition as they continue their quest to topple Bayern Munich. Cancelo brings pace, technical ability, and the kind of attacking threat from full back that will have Bundesliga wingers wondering if they’re actually supposed to be defending him instead.

It’s a big move for Cancelo, swapping the sunny beaches of Spain for the industrial charm of Dortmund. But hey, at least he’ll have Champions League football to look forward to, instead of another mid table slog with Valencia.

After pocketing a tidy sum of €36 million from Bayern for Joelinton, Hoffenheim have decided to reinvest that cash in Moise Kean, signing him from Juventus for a whopping €41 million.

Now, the big question on everyone’s mind - Can Kean score as many goals as Joelinton did? Let’s not forget, Joelinton managed a respectable 19 in 36 Bundesliga games last season, and now the pressure is on Kean to match or ideally exceed that tally. Kean, known for his promise at Juventus, has more than a few eyes on him to prove he's more than just potential.

Hoffenheim fans will be hoping Kean can step up and fill the big shoes left by Joelinton, who was a beast for the club, scoring goals and tearing defences apart for fun. They were absolutely gutted to see him leave for Bayern, but now the question is can Kean be the ideal replacement and deliver the same kind of firepower?

Jairo Riedewald has packed his bags and swapped PSG for Real Madrid in a €36 million move. Now, we’re not saying Madrid are just hoarding players at this point, but if they keep this up, they might have enough to field three separate teams. It’s a big move for Riedewald, but also a bit of a surprise; was he secretly Florentino Pérez’s favorite Football Manager wonderkid back in the day?

Speaking of wonderkids, Xavi Vega, Espanyol’s golden boy, has left sunny Barcelona behind to join Schalke for €31 million. A big fee for a young player, but Schalke clearly believe they’ve got a future star on their hands. Either that, or they’ve just played too much Football Manager and got a little carried away. Let’s hope Vega justifies the investment and isn’t Schalke’s answer to ‘expensive bench warmer’

Over in France, Lyon have swooped in for Yannick Bolasie, signing him from Atletico Madrid for €9 million. Now, Bolasie at Atletico always felt a little odd, like seeing a Sunday League player at a Michelin starred restaurant. So, this Lyon move might actually make sense. A new league, a fresh start, and a chance to remind everyone that he’s still got those silky skills, or at least one skill move that FIFA players love.

And finally, we’ve got Xadas, another Atletico Madrid youth product, making a €15 million move to Monaco. Could this be a shrewd piece of business, a clever investment in a young talent? Or is it just Monaco doing their usual trick of throwing money at random youngsters, hoping one turns into the next Mbappé? Only time will tell. But hey, worst case scenario, he’ll get a lovely tan in Monte Carlo while sitting on the bench.

Evan James, remember him? The guy who left New York Red Bulls for Hamburg and has since managed a jaw dropping 39 games and a mere 22 goals in the Bundesliga (no big deal, right?). Well, in a twist nobody saw coming, he’s just signed for Manchester City for a whopping €49 million, becoming the most expensive Canadian ever. No, seriously, Canada’s got a new footballing superstar (or at least Manchester City are hoping he’ll be one).

But hey, the potential is there. At just 20 years old, James is now being hailed as the long term replacement for Paulo Dybala, who’s only 26 (talk about pressure!). Dybala, by the way, is already considered the replacement for Sergio Agüero, who, for his part in the James deal has made his own move to Roma for €15 million, linking up with his former City strike partner Edin Džeko.

In his debut match for City against West Ham, James came off the bench and did what any young prodigy would do, scoring the equalizer in the 77th minute as City went on to win 2-1. A debut to remember, right? Just the sort of performance you’d expect from someone who's about to be touted as ‘the next big thing’ in world football (no pressure, Evan).

Meanwhile, Agüero made his own mark in Rome, scoring the winner on his debut against Sampdoria. Looks like everyone’s off to a good start, except maybe Hamburg, who are still wondering how they let James go in the first place.

The MLS Cup Final, not that many people outside of the US pay much attention to it, saw DC United edge past Real Salt Lake 3-2, and if there was any doubt about Giuseppe Rossi’s impact, he put it to bed with a performance that cemented his status as the league’s best forward.

After finishing the season as MLS top scorer with 22 goals in 38 games, he turned up on the biggest stage, netting both the equalizer and the winner to bring the trophy back to DC.

Meanwhile, Orlando City’s playoff run was unceremoniously ended in the Eastern Conference Semifinal by Toronto, not that anyone was shocked. But while their campaign didn’t make headlines, James Robson certainly did. The 2019 MLS Draft’s first overall pick was Orlando’s starting right back and put up unbelievable numbers for a rookie defender, 15 assists, 2 goals and an average rating of 8.21 in 29 appearances. Naturally, Red Bull Salzburg are sniffing around, because what else do they do besides hoover up young talent that are rough around the edges, polish them up and sell them for at least triple the price to the Premier League?

The other surprise is his teammate Kai Jones, the attacking midfielder who posted 4 goals and 12 assists in 34 appearances. Not bad for a first season, and it caught the attention of Napoli, Villarreal, and, yes, Red Bull Salzburg again. At this point, Salzburg might as well set up an official MLS draft war room in the New York Red Bulls front office.

And now for the weirdest bit of transfer news from The States, which includes Tottenham Hotspur of course. Reports claim new manager Torsten Fink is interested in José Juan Montaño. Who? is a question many people have asked. Montaño was the 12th overall pick in the 2019 MLS Draft. The Portland midfielder only played sixteen games, nine of which he came off the bench in, but he started the last seven of the season, and apparently, that’s enough for Spurs to believe he’s their creative savior.

Tottenham, the club that just dropped €45 million on Manuel Locatelli, now eyeing a rookie MLS midfielder as their answer to midfield creativity? At this point, Daniel Levy’s transfer policy is just picking names out of a hat and hoping for the best.

After two and a half unforgettable seasons at Boca Juniors, Daniel De Rossi has officially retired from football, leaving behind a legacy that even the most die hard Boca and Roma fans could hardly have dreamed of.

Arriving in Argentina as an experienced veteran, many assumed De Rossi would be a short term nostalgia signing, but instead, he delivered 88 games of pure midfield mastery, contributing 13 goals, 15 assists, and more goal saving tackles than Boca’s keepers would like to admit. His average ratings of 7.93, 8.15, and 8.01 in Buenos Aires tell the full story, this guy never had a bad game.

De Rossi bows out with two back to back Primera División titles and a Copa Argentina, proving once again that some players just have football in their DNA. And he’s not leaving La Bombonera behind, either. He joins up with the Schelotto twins on the coaching staff, with Guillermo as manager and Gustavo as assistant, stepping into a first team coaching role.

So while Boca fans alike will miss seeing that unmistakable warrior like presence on the pitch, they can at least rest easy knowing that De Rossi will still be there, just in the dugout screaming instructions instead of crunching tackles.

At the start of the month there was dread and worry on the red side of Merseyside, but by the end of January it’s looking like an inspired appointment. The Reds have won their first four games under their controversial new boss, beating Spurs and West Brom at Anfield and taking maximum points on the road at Norwich and Derby.

Coincidence? Tactical brilliance? The new manager effect? Or are the players simply terrified of what might happen if they don’t perform? Rumors are flying that Terry’s pre match pep talks include a not so subtle reminder about what happens to the wives of those who underperform. Whether it's motivation or sheer panic, it's working, Liverpool are climbing the table, and for now, the dressing room remains…. intact.

If you had Shrewsbury Town sitting sixth in the Championship at the end of January on your football bingo card, congratulations, you’re either a psychic or lying.

Under Gary Mills, who guided them to League One glory last season, the Shrews are punching well above their weight. And they’ve done it on a budget that wouldn’t even cover a Premier League club’s catering bill.

Harry Wilson arrived from Liverpool for a mere £250k, daylight robbery for a player that’s managed 8 goals this season. Conor Gallagher, loaned in from Reading, has been a midfield engine. James Maddison, picked up for free from Norwich, is looking like a genius signing after controlling the midfield effortlessly. Saulo Decarli, signed for £3 million from Swiss side Basel has added much needed defensive stability.  And then there’s Ryan Boness, the Liverpool loanee, who has 15 goals in the Championship, alongside the creativity and passing from Maddison and Wilson has been terrorizing defences.

Mills is working miracles with a squad built on smart signings, loans, and a whole lot of belief. Whether they can keep this pace up and actually make a Premier League push, this or next season, remains to be seen. But for now, Shrewsbury fans are enjoying every minute of this unexpected ride.

Chapter 48
 

Scott sat back in his office chair, exhaling a deep breath as he scrolled through the final confirmations. Bartosz Jaroszek and Diego Malania had signed their new contracts. His two pillars at the back, ever present all season and ever reliable were staying put.

This was huge.

For all the talent he had seen come and go, for all the young players snatched away by bigger clubs, he had kept his defensive foundation intact. Jaroszek, the no nonsense leader, and Malania, the gritty, ball playing warrior. They had started every game this season together, a partnership built on sweat, bruises, and an uncanny understanding of each other’s movements.

Scott let out a chuckle, shaking his head ‘you two better not drop your levels now’ he muttered to himself, knowing full well that these two weren’t the type to slack off.

Since the winter break Ślęza’s form had been unpredictable. There were moments of brilliance, some big wins and stunning performances, but also frustrating setbacks. They had never climbed higher than third place, but for a newly promoted side expecting to battle against relegation, that was an incredible achievement. He'd built a team greater than the sum of it's parts. The players beleived in him, beleived in his ideas. The staff respected his vision and the results, despite the occasional stumble spoke volumes. He hadn't just made Ślęza competitive, he made the believe. And maybe that was the point. That he’d done enough to prove he could build something, exceed expectations and make others take notice. Scott Lańkowski wasn’t just keeping a small club afloat, he was showing he could take them beyond their ceiling. The question now was whether he’d done enough to take himself there too.
 

Some weeks, they looked like genuine contenders for back to back promotions. Other weeks, they looked like a team still adjusting to the brutal grind of the second tier. Scott wasn’t disheartened, though.

They were holding their own in a league where nobody had expected them to survive. He had seen enough in his players to know that they weren’t finished yet, not by a long shot.

And now, with Jaroszek and Malania locked in for the future, Ślęza Wrocław had a backbone to build on.

== == == == ==

Scott walked to the training ground as the final session of the season was wrapping up, and he leant against the dugout railing, arms crossed, watching as Leândro finished his final few sprints after training. The league’s top scorer. 18 goals in a promoted team that not only defied logic and survived relegation, but finished third, just a few points off automatic promotion. A return that nobody, not even Scott, had fully expected at the start of the season.

Leândro jogged over, sweat dripping from his brow, but there was a grin on his face. The same confident, almost cocky smile he always had.

‘So?’ Leândro smirked, tapping his chest ‘not bad for an old man, huh?’ he said in exceptional English

Scott laughed ‘old? You’re 31 not 51! And if that’s old, I’ll take more ‘old’ players like you’

Leândro had been outstanding all season. His movement, composure, and clinical finishing had been the difference in so many games. Even when Ślęza’s form had been up and down, Leândro had been the one constant. The man they could rely on.

‘18 goals’ Scott said, shaking his head ‘that’s serious numbers for a promoted side Leo’

Leândro grinned wider ‘could’ve been 25 if you didn’t sub me so much’ 

Scott rolled his eyes ‘could’ve been 35 if you didn’t miss a few sitters’

They both laughed, but the pride was real. For Leândro, this was validation. He had been doubted before, past his best apparently before joining Scott, but here he was, leading the scoring charts in a competitive league.

For Scott, it was proof of the system working. Proof that Ślęza Wrocław belonged in this division.

== == == == ==

Later that day, after the first team had finished the session and left, Scott sat in his office, phone pressed to his ear, as he waited for Luca Vigiani, Lazio’s first team manager, to pick up. He had dealt with Vigiani before when negotiating Patryk Zygmunt’s sale back in January, and now he was calling with a clear request - one more year.

When Vigiani finally answered, Scott didn’t waste time.

‘Patryk’s thriving here. He’s getting games, he’s developing, and he’s crucial to us. If he goes back to Lazio now, he’s sitting on the bench and that if he’s even in the first team. That helps no one’

There was a pause, then a sigh on the other end ‘I rate him, Scott. That’s why we bought him’

Scott leaned forward ‘exactly. So let him keep playing. We both know he’s not breaking into your first team just yet. One more season here, regular minutes, and you get back a player who’s ready to play in Serie A’

Another pause. Then, finally ‘okay, we’ll extend the loan to you. One more year, I’ll see him tomorrow when he gets back to Rome’

Scott grinned ‘pleasure doing business with you, Luca, all the best for next season’

As that conversation was ending, another was continuing. Marcin was working on something just as important.

With Wisła Kraków relegated, it meant Artur Kwiatkowski, on loan at Ślęza from Krakow after the sign and loan back deal was completed in January, was technically back in their squad after leaving Wroclaw a few days before the rest of the team. And that was a problem. If he didn’t return to Sleza, he’d be playing against them next season.

So Marcin worked the phones, sent the mails, pushing for an extension to the loan deal. He finally caught Piotr Stokowiec, Wisła’s manager, at the right time.

‘He’s been great for us, Piotr as I’m sure you know. I spoke with Jasczek Polski (the Wisla Krakow scout) a couple of times when he was here watching us play and keeping an eye on Artur. He’s getting minutes, developing. He’s better off staying here’

Stokowiec said dryly ‘look Marcin, I’ll be blunt, we have bigger issues here. Relegation means we need a full rebuild and I’m walking a tightrope here, my job is on the line. He’s not in our immediate plans, so…’ he waited a moment before continuing ‘yes, you can have him for another season'

Marcin didn’t bat an eyelid, he knew the deal would be extended.

When Scott and Marcin met later that day, there was a rare moment of pure celebration.

‘Zygmunt is staying’

‘So is Kwiatkowski’

‘That’s two names ticked off’ Scott said as a smile slid across his face ‘we’re not just building a squad for next season, Marcin. We’re keeping our best pieces together. And that’s how we push on’

– – – – --

Summer 2020 news

The Premier League title race was over before the final day, with Chelsea wrapping it up weeks ago, confirming what most already knew, they were a class above the rest this season. Massimo Allegri copying Joachim Lows feat at Arsenal last season, by winning the Premier League in his first season at the club.

But let’s talk about Newcastle United, who finished second. Second! Guus Hiddink left behind a well oiled machine, and Jorge Jesus didn’t mess it up, quite the opposite, he took what Hiddink had started and continued developing it. The Toon Army might just start dreaming about a title charge next year.

Arsenal secured third, because of course they did despite winning the league on the last day of the season last year. Manchester City just about clung onto fourth, despite selling their best player mid season for reasons still unknown. Thomas Tuchel is still being asked about the De Bruyne sale daily.

Manchester United ended up in fifth, and then there's Southampton in sixth, yes, Southampton, the club that somehow found £82 million to sign Breel Embolo. Turns out money well spent because they’re off to Europe!

Meanwhile, Liverpool, under the most unlikely of managers, John Terry, climbed to eighth after a dreadful first half of the season. Apparently nothing motivates players quite like the fear of their manager moving in on their wives.

At the bottom, Ipswich, Crystal Palace, and Norwich waved goodbye to the Premier League. Norwich, as always, will probably be back next season because that’s just what they do.

Callum Wilson is the Premier League top scorer with 20 goals. Newcastle’s Alexander Mitrovic just missed out with 19, while Dybala rounded off the top three with 18. 

And then there’s Evan James, the Canadian wonderkid, who only needed 9 games to score 8 goals for Manchester City. At this rate, next season’s Golden Boot race might just belong to him.

In the Championship Watford stormed the league, clinching the title with Brighton hot on their heels in second, both securing automatic promotion. No drama for them, just a smooth ride to the Premier League.

Everton, on the other hand? Absolute disasterclass. 

Everton fans will be having nightmares about that Sheffield Wednesday game for years, 4-0 at Goodison on the final day? Brutal. One win away from the playoffs, and they bottle it in spectacular fashion. Classic.You couldn't script a bigger bottle job 

Meanwhile, Reading took full advantage, edging past Wednesday 1-0 in the play off final to book their Premier League return.

Shrewsbury did well all things considered, finishing an impressive 9th in the Championship just a season after coming up from League One. Gary Mills, working miracles on a shoestring budget and with a squad that most had written off as relegation fodder, scooped the Manager of the Year award, and rightly so. He turned bargain buys and loan deals into a cohesive, fearless unit that punched well above their weight. 

Burnley’s Diego Galván might’ve been the unsung hero of the Championship season, scooping up Player of the Year after a stellar 17 clean sheets. Unfortunately his heroics weren't enough to see Burnley through the play offs. 

Despite Galván’s brilliance in the sticks Burnley fell short in the play off semi final against Reading who went on to win it. Classic Burnley; too good to go up automatically, but not quite good enough when it really mattered. Galván’s 17 clean sheets might be a highlight, but it’s a shame he couldn’t seal the deal for Burnley. A valiant effort, but in the end, it’s Reading who got the promotion.

Newcastle claimed the FA Cup with a 2-0 victory over Southampton at Wembley thanks to a stunning double from Iñaki Williams. The Spaniard was in superb form, netting both goals to seal the win and hand Newcastle another major trophy, following the FA cup win in 2018 and Europa League win in 2019. Southampton, who had a solid season themselves, just couldn’t get going in the final, leaving Newcastle to celebrate. 

Juventus win Serie A again, because of course they do. That’s three in a row for Antonio Conte since his dramatic return to the touchline in Turin. The man could probably win a Scudetto managing a group of mannequins in Juve shirts. Napoli finished second, AC Milan third, Roma fourth, Inter fifth, and Sassuolo, yes, Sassuolo snuck into sixth.

But the real story? Siem De Jong casually outscoring Higuaín, Immobile, Isak, Aguero and Džeko to claim the golden boot with 21 goals. Somewhere, a football hipster is weeping tears of vindication into their Ajax scarf.

And while Sergio Aguero didn't win the scoring crown, he still reminded everyone that he’s world class; 15 goals in just 20 games for Roma since arriving on deadline day. That’s less of a striker and more of a goal scoring machine with a Roman holiday twist.

Real Madrid clinched La Liga yet again, back to back for them now since Barcelona did a three-peat. Barcelona came second, and Atlético Madrid rounded out the top three; standard fare in Spain these days. Andrea Belotti, somehow still defying logic and defenders alike, topped the scoring charts with 25 goals. Meanwhile, Messi only managed 20, which in his world is practically a drought, and Ronaldo chipped in with 18. Still proving that class never fades, even as the legs slow just a touch his instincts in front of goal remain razor sharp.

Ligue 1 delivered some actual drama on the final day, as Monaco and PSG finished neck and neck on 92 points with identical records: 29 wins, 5 draws, and 4 defeats each. You’d think the league would just let them wrestle for the trophy at that point. But alas, the title came down to goal difference,Monaco's +61 edging out PSG's +55. It was fine margins and fine finishing all season long.

Both teams did what they had to do in their final fixtures, won comfortably, but it was Monaco who were left celebrating, champagne flying, while PSG were probably left furiously calculating how many more goals they should’ve scored against Angers back in October.

Dusan Vlahović was lethal all season with 26 goals, while Morata hit 20 and Aye chipped in with 18. Not bad for a division often accused of being ‘a farmer’s league’, these guys were harvesting goals like there was no tomorrow.

Elsewhere in the league, Saint-Étienne, Bordeaux, Lyon, and Nice all made their presence known though perhaps some more for the chaos than the quality. Still, in a title race this tight, even a dodgy offside goal that got given or an unexpected late equaliser somewhere in February could’ve changed everything.

But credit where it’s due to Monaco who were machine like when it mattered. And PSG? Well, they’ve got the money, but this time, not the margin.

Noteworthy scenes in the Bundesliga as the title race actually… existed?! It all came down to the final day, with Bayer Leverkusen hosting Bayern Munich in a genuine winner-takes-all showdown. Leverkusen were on 74 points, Bayern on 76, just a draw would’ve been enough for Bayern to do what Bayern always do and casually stroll off with yet another title.

But in a twist nobody saw coming (especially Bayern), Leverkusen snatched the lead in the 83rd minute thanks to David Neres and somehow, somehow, held on. It could’ve been done earlier had Javier Hernandez not done his best impression of someone who had never seen a penalty before.

So for once, the Bundesliga gods said ‘Nein’ to Bayern. Somewhere in Germany, neutrals popped open champagne, while Bayern fans stared blankly into the abyss, muttering ‘das war nicht im Drehbuch’

Carlo Ancelotti stepped down as Bayern manager following the dramatic final day defeat to Leverkusen. Some say it was a planned exit, others reckon he rage quit like a teenager losing a FIFA match, fed up that Bayern only won the cup this year and not their traditional millionth Bundesliga title. Rumour has it his resignation letter just said ‘no league title? I’m out. Ciao’

Pep Guardiola was quickly approached and offered the Bayern job, because when in doubt just hit the reset button and ask Pep to come back. Bayern clearly thought ‘well, he’s already got the club scarf somewhere in his cupboard, right?’ Sources say the board didn’t even schedule an interview, just texted him ‘U up?’

Pep, probably sipping herbal tea and sketching a new 2-3-5 possession heavy formation on a napkin, didn’t take much convincing.

2020 Euros.

The 2020 Euros kicked off with a shocker as Serbia pulled off the kind of comeback that makes grown French defenders stare blankly into the distance. France led 2-0 in the opening Group B clash, looking every bit the tournament favourites… until the second half happened. Serbia roared back with three goals that had Arsene Wenger wishing he could sub himself on. A textbook case of ‘how did that happen?’ unless you're Serbian, in which case it's ‘how about that!?’

France didn’t stay sulking for long. After that Serbian slap in the face, they went on a redemption tour that looked like they were taking names and settling scores. They beat Portugal with a performance that made Ronaldo throw his hands up more than usual, breezed past Switzerland, outclassed Croatia, and sent Russia packing with a ‘merci, but no merci’ kind of display.

By the time they reached the final, France looked less like a team and more like a stylish vengeance machine powered by baguettes and spite.

The biggest shock of the tournament? Well, it wasn’t France’s revenge tour, nor was it Spain trying to rediscover their tiki-taka. Nope, it was Norway. Yes, Norway, a country known for stunning fjords, beautiful landscapes, and a football team that hadn’t exactly set the world on fire, somehow made it all the way to the final.

Their semi-final victory against Italy was nothing short of miraculous. It was a penalty shootout, which means one thing: drama. Italy, usually as cool as gelato in the Alps, completely lost their heads, missing three penalties, while Norway kept their composure. After that, even the Norwegians had to be asking themselves ‘wait, are we actually in the final? Is this real life?’

Erling Haaland did everything he could to carry Norway to glory in the final, and let’s be honest, the guy practically dragged his team there. With a goal in the final, it was clear that Norway’s hopes rested firmly on the broad shoulders of the Viking striker. But, in the end, it wasn’t enough. France were just too strong, too composed, and well... too French.

The match ended 3-1 in favor of France, with Haaland’s goal being little more than a consolation for the Norwegians. France, in their usual style, had a flair about them, just like that final croissant of the day; crisp, golden, and satisfying. They’d done enough to prove they were the better team, but you could almost feel Haaland's frustration from the other side of Europe.

Norway could hold their heads high though. After all, who would have predicted they’d even make it to the final? Certainly not anyone who’d watched them play in previous years. But Haaland was the star of the tournament, and at least he can say he gave the French a good run for their money!

Haaland was nothing short of a revelation at the 2020 Euros, scoring a record breaking 12 goals, the most ever in a European Championship finals. It was like watching a Viking on a rampage, if Vikings had a knack for scoring goals instead of pillaging villages. Every time Haaland stepped on the pitch, you could almost hear the collective gasp of defenders everywhere as they scrambled to stop him, only to fail miserably.

His 12 goals weren't just numbers on a stat sheet, they were moments of pure magic, and it’s no surprise he dominated the tournament’s scoring charts. Some of his goals were as clinical as a surgeon, while others looked like he was just casually strolling through defenses like they weren’t even there.

He didn’t get to lift the trophy in the end, but Haaland’s remarkable feat will go down in history as one of the most memorable performances in Euros history. And while Norway didn’t win the title, they certainly left their mark on the tournament. With Haaland leading the charge, they were the surprise package of the competition, proof that you don’t need to win the trophy to steal the spotlight.

As expected, the post tournament managerial carousel was in full swing, with some familiar faces making moves and others calling it a day.

Julen Lopetegui left his post as Spain’s manager after their early exit, which wasn’t exactly a surprise, given the drama surrounding his pre tournament squad list, he left out Vitolo and Juan Mata, sacrilege. Meanwhile, Roger Schmidt was shown the door by Germany after their disappointing Euro campaign, guess those German efficiency standards don't leave room for underperformance.

In a move that made sense in some ways but left people scratching their heads in others, Luis Enrique left La Liga runners up Barcelona to take over as Spain’s new boss. Spain fans are hoping his ‘passion for possession’ doesn’t turn their game into a ‘passing festival’ with no end result.

Mirko Slomka, who had been steering the ship at Wolfsburg was surprisingly offered the Germany job, sparking speculation that his time at the club was deemed ‘as efficient as a German train system’ but not quite as reliable.

Meanwhile, Arsène Wenger, after guiding France to the final and winning the Euros, confirmed he’d step down, leaving a legacy of questionable tactical decisions and an inability to change his coat. More on him shortly.

Claude Puel, who had been underwhelming with England and spent most of his time there redefining the word ‘meh’, made a lateral move to France. The French public are already split—some hopeful he’ll continue leading them to glory, others suspecting he just fancied a return to croissants and slightly warmer press conferences.

Finally, after Gianpiero Ventura called it a day, Roberto Mancini was pulled from PSG’s safe haven to reignite Italy’s fortunes. Was it the glitz and glamour of Paris? Or was it just an opportunity to rebuild a more stable Italy side? Either way, he’s swapped the luxury of the French capital for the pressure of rebuilding the Azzurri.

After stepping down from Euro-winning France, because apparently going out on a high is still fashionable, Arsène Wenger decided retirement was overrated and took the reins at Barcelona. Expect tiki-taka, teenage wonderkids, and jackets with fewer zips.

Meanwhile, PSG wasted no time replacing Roberto Mancini (who swanned off to take the Italy job) by appointing Marcelo Bielsa, because nothing screams stability like El Loco and Parisian expectations in the same room.

Big shoes to fill all around, but who’s going to step up and actually deliver? Let’s see how long these moves last before the inevitable sacking!

The summer transfer window opened with its usual blend of ambition, chaos, and downright nonsense, and it didn’t take long for the first eyebrow raisers to arrive.

Liverpool, clearly in the mood to clear some space and recoup a few pennies waved goodbye to Óscar De Marcos after a thoroughly underwhelming season. He packed his bags for China, joining Quanjian for a staggering €25 million. Yes you read that right. A man who struggled to complete sideways passes at Anfield is now a marquee signing in the Chinese Super League. Somewhere, a Quanjian scout is being asked some very tough questions, probably in Mandarin.

Fred, Manchester United’s ever industrious midfielder (depending on the day), packed his bags for Shanghai Shanggang in a €31 million move. It’s a deal that screams ‘let's make sure our retirement fund has commas’ Manchester United fans might be scratching their heads, wondering how Fred fetched that kind of fee especially after a season where his passing accuracy was… let’s just call it interpretive. But hey, Shanghai clearly saw something they liked. Or maybe they just needed a new midfield enforcer who occasionally forgets which way his team is attacking.

Not to be outdone, the MLS raised its hand in the global arms race of ‘wait, really?’ transfers. Colorado Rapids, long known for altitude and ambition decided it was time to bring in some fireworks. Enter Hulk. No, not the green one, but the Brazilian tank who last season terrorized the defenders in Saudi Arabia. At 33, he’s now a Designated Player and $4 million signing. Reports say he signed the contract using only his biceps.

The big money moves of the summer are starting to roll in and the spending spree has officially gone from bold to ‘are you sure that’s not a typo?’

PSG opened their seemingly never ending war chest and made a splash with the €85 million signing of Victor Osimhen from Wolfsburg. After rattling in 40 goals across 70 games for the Bundesliga side Osimhen now heads to Paris with big expectations and an even bigger price tag. 

He'll be joined by Hakim Ziyech, who swapped Juventus and their Serie A title celebrations for the bright lights (and higher wages) of the Parc des Princes in a €50 million move. PSG are clearly assembling a squad that screams ‘we will get past the quarter finals this time. Maybe’

Meanwhile, Monaco decided to get in on the fun too, prising Isco away from Real Madrid for €60 million. The Spanish playmaker, long rumoured to be leaving Madrid anyway, now gets a fresh start in the principality, perfect for anyone who wants football and a yacht lifestyle.

Presnel Kimpembe swapped the Eiffel Tower for the Turin hills, joining Juventus from PSG for €55 million. The Italian giants were clearly after some defensive steel and possibly someone to bring a bit more swagger to the back line. Kimpembe was seen arriving in Italy already practicing his no nonsense stare and dramatic goal line clearances.

But the bigger jaw dropper saw Bernardo Silva, Monaco’s mercurial playmaker, make a sensational switch to Manchester City for a dizzying €135 million. That’s one hundred and thirty five million Euros. Man City clearly saw something they really liked, maybe it was his vision, maybe it was his dribbling, or maybe they just panicked and hit ‘buy now’ without reading the fine print. Monaco’s accountants, meanwhile, are probably still doing cartwheels, while Bernardo touches down in Manchester a hell of a lot richer.

But the biggest head scratcher of all? Real Madrid turning around and spending €121 million on Anthony Martial. Yes, you read that correctly. Martial, who only made 20 appearances for Manchester United last season (though he did score 12 goals), now holds one of the highest price tags in history. Madrid must’ve really liked what they saw, either that or they lost a bet.

Staying in England, Tottenham Hotspur made headlines by splashing €59 million on Gabriel Barbosa from Inter Milan. Yep, that Barbosa. Talented? Sure. Clinical? Sometimes. Will he thrive at Spurs? Well early opinions are mixed. Spurs fans are buzzing. Most other teams fans are quietly wondering if this is career suicide in slow motion. Barbosa himself probably smiled at the unveiling while secretly Googling ‘how long is the average Tottenham trophy drought?’

Sticking with Spurs and the theme of potential career suicide, 19 year old Portuguese winger José Lagoa has made the brave, or possibly baffling decision to swap Barcelona’s famed La Masia academy for north London, joining Tottenham for €44 million.

From the beaches of Catalonia to the bus stops of Tottenham. Lagoa was being hailed as ‘the next big thing’, which at Spurs usually means ‘the next big thing to burn out under three managers in two seasons before being loaned to Trabzonspor’ Still €44 million for a teenager with more Instagram followers than first team minutes? That’s peak Spurs. The fans are clinging to hope, the scouts are scratching their heads, and somewhere in a smoky backroom at La Masia, an old coach just muttered ‘he swapped Barça for that?’  Meanwhile, Arsene Wenger is laughing all the way to the bank, sipping his morning espresso and thinking ‘who needs to be a tactical genius when you can just sell player you won’t use to Spurs?’ He’s probably already planning his next ‘discovery’ to offload to Spurs for another £50 million.

Callum Chambers has left Arsenal and joined Benfica for a cool €35 million, which is a bit of a surprise given his Arsenal career had more ups and downs than a rollercoaster at times. But a move to Portugal could be just what he needs to finally find his rhythm. The best bit? He’ll be linking up with newly appointed Benfica captain John Stones. Yes, that’s right, Stones, who has gone from being a meme at City to leading Benfica, a place where they’re now apparently collecting English defenders like they're Pokémon cards. Chambers and Stones together, who’s making a bet on which one misplaces the ball first?

Jack Grealish is on the move again, this time swapping relegated Ipswich Town for Liverpool in a €25 million deal. That’s right, the man who once graced Villa Park has somehow turned himself into football’s most glamorous good luck bad luck charm.

In the past two seasons alone, he left Aston Villa after failing to get promoted from the Championship for Nottingham Forest… who promptly got relegated that season. He then jumped ship to Ipswich… also relegated the same season. Now he’s landed at Liverpool, and Reds fans are nervous. He’s never even sniffed a title challenge or cup run, yet he’s somehow become football’s answer to the grim reaper of relegation. If Liverpool go down next, Grealish might need to start arriving at clubs in disguise.

In another example of Englishmen seeking greener (or at least sunnier) pastures, Joe Hart has left the Premier League behind and signed a permanent deal with Torino for €10 million. It’s not exactly the glamour move he might’ve hoped for a few years ago, but hey, at least he’s back in Italy after his loan spell a couple of season ago, this time with a permanent deal in hand.

Torino fans will be hoping Hart can prove he’s still got the chops to be a reliable number one. Sure, he might not be England’s number one anymore but he's got plenty of experience to offer, and Torino fans are hoping he can show them he's still got it. If nothing else, he can add 'Serie A starter' to his list of achievements—right next to 'England’s number 1' (even if that was a few years ago).

Miggy Almirón has finally escaped the grey skies and eternal drizzle of Middlesbrough, sealing a €22 million move to the much sunnier (and far more glamorous) Marseille. While it might not be the biggest transfer of the summer, it’s a huge blow for Boro, Miggy basically kept them in the Premier League through sheer determination, turbo charged running and a refusal to let the place drag him down. With 12 goals and 9 assists in a team that often looked like it was stuck in second gear and seemingly allergic to attacking football, Marseille might’ve just landed themselves the Premier League’s most cheerful overachiever.

The Lewandowski Curse strikes again! This time, it’s poor Joelinton, who joined Bayern Munich with high hopes from Hoffenhiem but quickly found himself buried in the depths of the bench. With only 2 starts, 6 sub appearances and a modest 3 goals to his name, his time in Bavaria was as brief as it was underwhelming. Now he's off to Wolfsburg on loan to fill the gap left by Osimhen's departure. Here's hoping he gets more than a cameo role this time around.

Meanwhile, Christian Pulisic also bids farewell to Bayern joining Manchester United for a cool €121 million, matching the fee they received when they sold Martial to Real Madrid.  Clearly Man United's transfer policy is now just a case of ‘if it’s shiny and expensive, we’ll have it’ ike a kid in a sweet shop with an unlimited credit card.