Making His Mark

"Premier League, Round Two: Arsenal thrash West Bromwich 6–0, Walcott scores a hat-trick, Arshavin scores and assists!" — AS

"Massacres everywhere! Chelsea beat Wigan Athletic 6–0, Anelka bags a brace!" — United Kingdom's FourFourTwo

"After two rounds, Fabregas, the new World Cup champion who drew controversy in preseason, remains Wenger's first choice as Arsenal captain, a decision that has brought Wenger no small amount of trouble." — Editor-in-chief of The Sun

"Premier League title Odds List released! Who are you backing?" — Probability Ball

"Sheffield United beat Cardiff City 3–1 to claim their first win of the new season! Evans scores one, Gilbert scores one, Janu Hans hits a long shot, and youngster Maël provides a brace of assists!" — Sheffield Evening News

That night, several pieces of news about matchday occupied the fans' attention.

Most people were still mainly focused on the Premier League, and that was understandable. The top of the pyramid drew the most eyes wherever it was.

However, unlike before, Maël's name had appeared in some local reports.

In the comment sections of those reports, many Sheffield United fans came over after hearing the news and began loudly praising Maël, who had given them such a wonderful experience today.

"Genius!"

"Star of tomorrow!"

"Bicycle Boy!"

"He practically destroyed Cardiff City fullback Gabor. It wasn't just his breakthroughs and crosses—his ability in physical duels was memorable too!"

Among them, some were simply singing his praises, while others analyzed things rationally.

"From what we've seen so far, he's the winger best suited to Sheffield United.

"The original starting winger, Mark Yates, likes cutting inside to shoot rather than going to the byline to cross. He doesn't contribute much to the team and creates very few goals."

"Maël's strengths and weaknesses are both fairly obvious. He can create goals and has real flair.

"But he also loses possession easily, lacks effective options with his back to goal, and his short passing can't really be called excellent. He makes mistakes often.

"He didn't win the Best Player award today. I think that's why."

"He's still young. All of that can be trained!"

On the bus ride back, the Sheffield United players read those comments and recited them one by one with exaggerated emotion to tease Maël, making everyone burst into laughter from time to time.

"Maël, I think you should create a Facebook account."

Team captain Robert grew more mischievous the older he got. He turned to look at Maël in the back row and said, "If you get more and more popular later, you might attract quite a few British girls. They'll leave you messages."

"Yes, they'll leave addresses."

Center Forward Evans turned back with the air of someone who knew the ropes and chimed in, "Don't think we're only a Championship team and Championship players. In Sheffield City, we're still stars."

"But watch out for honey traps."

Janu Hans added a line, raising his eyebrows with a smile. "Plenty of stars have run into them, and in the end they could only spend big money to hush things up. You're still young, so don't fall for that."

Maël ignored them and instead took out his phone to register a Facebook account.

It wasn't that he wanted any British girls. The main thing was that the internet era was gradually arriving, and he really did need to develop his own account online, slowly accumulating fans and fame.

If endorsement opportunities appeared later, or if a famous agent wanted to work with him, this would also count as a way to contact him.

Not long after he registered, several accounts followed him and became his fans.

Maël tapped in and took a look. On one person's homepage, he saw photos related to Sheffield United. He figured these people were probably fans searching his name after the match, following him to see whether the account was real.

He picked up his phone, took a few selfies, and posted them.

A while later, it seemed someone had spread his account around. His follower count began to rise faster, jumping by a decent amount every time he refreshed.

By the time he arrived in Sheffield City, the account already had more than seven hundred followers.

"This feels pretty good."

Maël wore a comfortable expression. He would build it up slowly. No one got fat in one bite. He looked forward to the day he had a million fans.

He vaguely remembered that in a few years, many superstars could casually post a promotional Instagram and earn more than a million euros in return. It was no different from picking up money.

Instagram had not been born yet, so he could run Facebook first.

Forget a million euros a post—even 1,000 euros was no small amount. That could buy four pairs of boots.

That night, Maël lay in bed preparing to sleep, but he kept savoring the feeling of being on the pitch and the thrill of assisting.

It was as if the fans' cheers still rang in his ears, along with the crisp sound of his teammate's shot hitting the net after his assist, and the excited faces flushed with pure satisfaction.

Those were definitely images and experiences he could remember for life, ones that would make him smile every time he thought of them.

The next day, at Colney Training Base.

Bang, bang, bang. The door to the head coach's office was knocked on early in the morning. Whoever had come seemed a little anxious.

Wenger took off his glasses, walked to the door, and opened it. He saw the bald Hans standing outside, his face full of smiles.

"Please, sit."

He turned and gestured for the other man to sit first. Only after both of them were seated at their workstations did he ask, "Good news? Something to celebrate?"

"Huge good news."

Hans was grinning almost from ear to ear. He took out his phone, opened a news article, and placed it in front of Wenger. "Maël and Gilbert. You still remember them, don't you?"

"I remember."

Mr. Wenger nodded, then glanced at his phone. The next moment, he seemed to turn to stone, frozen in place for a long while, his expression shifting again and again.

One moment he looked as if he doubted his own eyes, the next he seemed conflicted, and then shaken.

He suddenly looked up and fixed his gaze on Hans. "Is this tr—"

Hans had long expected the question and cut him off. "Absolutely true! Yesterday, everyone in our U17 squad watched the match. Maël started and got two assists, one of them for Gilbert! Our U17 has produced someone!"

In truth, Hans definitely had other thoughts as well. Recently, the club had been carrying out cuts, replacements, and evaluations, and he was under immense pressure every day.

Seeing those two produce results, he could not hold back for even a second. He rushed to find Mr. Wenger, hoping to receive praise and secure his position.

"The report is here! The report is here, Mr. Wenger!"

Just then, a shout suddenly came from outside the door, and someone hurried over. "It's the match report on those two kids you asked for last time. They've already played!"

It was assistant coach Phillis. He seemed to have realized as well that this matter would put Mr. Wenger in a good mood, so he had printed the report early in the morning and come to deliver the good news.

Phillis strode in with the report, just about to present it to Wenger, only to suddenly see a bald-headed man looking at him.

"Hans?"

He froze for a moment, then quickly realized. "Mr. Wenger already knows?"

"Yes."

Only now was Wenger finally certain that the news had to be true. He rose from his seat and paced around the office with delight on his face. "Good. The two of them are very good. This kind of performance really was unexpected."

No matter how one looked at it, to play in the Championship and record stats at seventeen made someone a top-tier talent.

"Pay closer attention!"

Wenger made his decision and arranged with a smile, "As long as they appear, bring me a match report every week. It would be best if you analyzed the match footage as well and produced a data analysis."

A person's hope for the future was made up of expectation after expectation. Clearly, for Wenger, he now had a new expectation for the future.