National Glory: Milan Three Musketeers (Please Subscribe)

May 27, 2029.

Carl El Clark had only just gotten out of bed.

It was the day of the UEFA Champions League final. There was no way he could miss it.

"Chelsea is so stingy. They terminated your contract right after the interview."

Emilia Clarke complained.

"It's fine, Mom. Boehly is a businessman, after all. And training with Fulham doesn't affect anything," Carl Clark said with a smile, still in his pajamas.

The main reason he had gotten up so late was that he had celebrated his birthday a few days ago and was finally old enough to play in Italy.

He had been so excited that his sleep schedule had become a mess.

Carl Clark took half a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator, chugged it down in one go, and only then sat on the couch.

Emilia shook the salad bowl in her hand and asked, "Want some chips?"

"No, Mom. I can't eat junk food."

Carl refused outright.

Ever since he had been old enough to understand, he had never eaten even a gram of snacks.

After witnessing his brothers' football skills, he had felt an even greater sense of urgency.

There was only one number ten shirt, but plenty of people wanted it.

Still, Carl Clark was extremely confident that the number ten shirt belonged to him.

Those wild brothers all played up front, while he was his father's most outstanding child.

At sixteen, he was 180 centimeters tall and still agile enough.

His reaction speed was especially impressive. Even though he was not tall enough, he had performed very well whenever he occasionally trained as a goalkeeper.

Back when he was at Chelsea, he had even been right on the verge of false-starting during every 100-meter test.

So Carl was very confident. He had