I've Got Your Back!

I've Got Your Back! "Oh!"

The two did not stay there long before a thunderous wave of cheers came from outside, shaking the floor beneath their feet and the walls around them.

They were inside the stadium, with the fan section right above their heads, so that sensation could not have been more normal.

Maël listened carefully for a moment, then smiled. "It's our goal. It has to be."

Gilbert nodded in agreement. The away fans could not have made that kind of noise.

"Yeah!" More than ten minutes later, another roar came through, just as mighty as the last one.

Clearly, it was the home fans shouting again.

They had crushed Portsmouth and claimed a huge home win! Maël's expression shifted several times before finally settling into emotion. "Do you remember two months ago, when we were at home and had to judge whether it was our team or the opposition that scored just by how loud the fans were cheering?"

"Yeah."

Gilbert looked just as emotional as he thought back to that time. "Kevin was still here then. The two of us couldn't even get into the Squad List. Who could've thought that now we'd be experiencing all this as people actually involved?"

"Not just people involved." Maël had no reservations when speaking with him, and he raised an eyebrow. "People involved who contributed."

He had scored two goals today, while Gilbert had also recorded one assist. Between them, they had created three goals, sweeping up every goal before they went off.

From their previous perspective, that was unbelievable.

No one had expected the two of them to move this fast, not even themselves.

"So does this count as us sitting here after making our names and bowing out with our mission accomplished?"

Gilbert laughed a few times, then his expression slowly turned serious. He drew a breath and sighed. "I just don't know where we'll end up stopping."

He was afraid that everything before his eyes was only a bubble, something that would suddenly vanish one day after he woke up.

Maël did not answer his question. He did not know where he would stop either.

Never stop?

That did not seem very likely, but he wanted to go farther.

In this land that belonged to football, he hoped he could stand at the very top and experience the grandeur of looking down on all the smaller mountains. That was a player's highest pursuit.

"We win, we're number one!"

Just then, a cheesy English celebration song came from outside. "Put on your shoes, wipe the mud off yourself, and go home crying—!"

Joyful footsteps approached as the Sheffield United players pushed the door open and returned to the locker room, raising both hands in celebration.

They gave Maël and Gilbert, who had both been caught up in the storm today, no chance to say anything. Treating them just like everyone else, they hauled them up and started dancing the routine they had made up themselves.

Sad? Emotional? Or comfort them?

How could any of that feel as good as celebrating? They had won, so why worry about so much? Get hyped first! Maël shook his shoulders, swung his hips, and joined the wave of celebration with a laugh.

Only then did he truly enter the joyful atmosphere.

After this match, his numbers had reached four goals and four assists, meaning he had created eight goals since the start of the season! The fifteen goals needed for his next pay raise were not far away either! With a performance like this, he would surely attract Professor Wenger's attention very soon. He had already risen onto his toes on the springboard and was just waiting to bounce upward.

"Five-nil! Portsmouth didn't know which way was north! A clean-sheet win!"

Team captain Robert raised his gloves high and said as if claiming credit, "I saved at least two clear goal chances from them. The schedule's eased up, so you have to buy me a drink!"

Quite a few people agreed, and even assistant coach Joelson pointed at him with a laugh. "If no one buys you one, I will!"

Another round of cheers rang out, and only when Head Coach Gareth Speed pushed the door open and walked in from outside did the noise die down a little.

Everyone turned to look at him, knowing he definitely had something to say.

Gareth Speed was extremely straightforward. He came to Gilbert's side. "From the team's perspective, that was a stupid and reckless act, an act that went against professional ethics.

"But from a personal perspective, I've got your back. I think Maël will too."

Maël looked at him and nodded, listening as he continued, "I'll use every connection I have to put pressure on The FA and get the punishment as light as possible, but you definitely won't get away from it. Understood?"

"Thanks, boss. I understand." Gilbert smiled freely, put one hand in front of his forehead, then flicked it away with a raised eyebrow, showing that he was fine.

Gareth Speed turned his head and swept his gaze around the room. His stern expression suddenly turned into a smile. "Carry on with your party. You deserve all of this. Maël, come with me to the post-match press conference."

"Oh!" Cheers erupted from here once again. The players started singing the same song as before, and quite a few closed their eyes to savor it all.

Maël followed Gareth Speed out and walked with him all the way to the post-match press conference room.

On the way, Gareth Speed did not give him any particular instructions. He probably trusted that he would not run his mouth.

Bar Street, Kodall's shop.

The joy of the passionate five-nil victory had spread here too. Most of the fans were already red-faced from drinking, loudly spouting nonsense.

"I'm telling you, when I was sixteen, my talent was about the same as Maël's and Gilbert's. I was in Reading Youth Training back then!"

"That's nothing..."

The press conference appeared on the television at that moment. Maël and Gareth Speed sat in the main seats, with dense rows of cameras below them.

"Congratulations to Maël on being named Best Player of the match once again. This is the commemorative trophy. Sorry we're only handing it to you here; you had gone back to the locker room earlier." A staff member brought out a small Crystal Cup.

At that moment, quite a few fans raised the glasses in their hands and toasted toward Maël on the television.

Clearly, they had already come to see Maël as one of their own and wanted to celebrate with him.

"Transfermarkt leaked yesterday that they'll update player values on September 23. What kind of increase do you think your value will see?" A reporter stood up and asked the question.

Maël was still thinking when the fans in the bar had already started answering for him.

"Five million euros!"

"Four million!"

"No, eight million euros!"

"Wrong! If a team offered eight million euros for Maël right now, do you think Arsenal would let him go?"

"Transfermarkt is authoritative, but the values they give are still far off from a player's actual worth. I'd guess Transfermarkt will put him at around five million euros."

They all talked at once, making so much noise that the others couldn't even hear Maël's own answer clearly. They only saw him smile, as if he had cracked a joke.

Kodall, sitting at the front counter, did not tell everyone this, but his own mental price was around six or seven million euros.

"...Go home and cry your eyes out!" A burst of unified singing came from outside, grand and imposing.

Kodall turned to look. It was the celebrating crowd who had just finished watching the match in the stadium. Their faces were flushed, and quite a few of their voices were already hoarse.

After seeing that there was a bar here holding an event with Maël, many people headed over. As soon as they came in, they began asking about the signed gifts.

"Maël played too well today. Spending a hundred pounds for him is worth it!"

"I want one too, old as I am. Hurry up and get me a set."

"Me too!"

They shouted, stirring up a fresh wave of chaos and noise.

Kodall gave a wry smile and waved his hand. Now he had happy troubles too. "There are none left. Only twenty-five sets are available each week. Everyone can come back later."

Many people left in disappointment, but quite a few stayed behind as well, filling the empty tables.

Maël's influence had reached all the way here. This was an extremely successful micro-endorsement; he had proven that he could win the fans' affection.