When Shane Carter began his run-up, absolutely no one in the stadium thought there was anything particularly special about the upcoming free kick.
But the exact mont the ball left his boot...
Everyone imdiately realized sothing was wrong.
The sheer violent bend of the ball was physically jarring to watch!
In the modern era, very few players possessed the chanical ability to generate that kind of extre whip.
Valencia goalkeeper Diego Alves had his eyes firmly locked on the space directly above his defensive wall.
The second he saw the ball clear the wall, he recognized the trajectory and launched himself into a diving save.
But just as he fully extended his body, absolutely certain he had calculated the flight path correctly and was about to palm the ball away...
The ball simply shifted horizontally in mid-air!
Yes. Right before his very eyes, the ball seemingly defied wind resistance and aggressively jagged outward in the exact direction of his dive, pulling entirely out of his reach.
Alves's eyes widened in horror as he watched the leather smash violently into the side netting. Gravity took over, and his body slamd into the turf.
Both the goalkeeper and the ball hit the ground at exactly the sa ti.
Lying on the grass, Alves briefly recalled his high school physics classes.
Yet he still couldn't ntally process how a football could execute a horizontal shift like that in mid-air.
However, if he had seen the overhead tactical cara feed, the physics would have made perfect sense.
The ball's trajectory simply possessed a terminal, violently sharp hook at the very end of its flight path.
Viewed from the goalkeeper's horizontal eye level, this extre late curve created the optical illusion of the ball magically sliding sideways across the plane.
Alves lay on the grass.
His eyes were completely hollow.
It felt like he was trapped in a nightmare.
"Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable!! OHHH!! IT'S IN!! Carter scores directly from the free kick!"
"The very first direct free-kick goal of his professional career!"
"Miraculous! Atlético Madrid locks down the victory!"
As Shane began his celebration, the press box completely lted down.
The comntators could barely believe what they had just witnessed.
Generating that specific type of curve was an incredibly rare, almost lost art.
A few seasoned pundits imdiately recognized the ghost of the past. "That trajectory... that is the absolute hallmark of a David Beckham free kick!"
Across the Atlantic, on the ESPN US broadcast, Taylor Twellman was losing his mind. "The bend! Oh my goodness! The sheer quality of that strike! It's like watching Beckham in his pri!"
Technically, Beckham hadn't even retired yet. He was still playing in MLS.
But truthfully, even an aging David Beckham would likely struggle to consistently replicate that exact curve right now. Executing a strike with that much terminal whip required peak physical flexibility and explosive hip rotation.
The Calderón stands were in pure delirium.
Shane sprinted toward the corner flag, arms spread wide, and launched into a massive, adrenaline-fueled knee slide.
Back on the touchline, Diego Sione furiously scratched his head.
Is this kid secretly a massive Beckham fanboy or sothing?
A few yards away, Unai Ery slumped back into his seat.
The mont that free kick went in...
Valencia's third consecutive defeat was mathematically guaranteed.
As the Atlético players finished mobbing Shane and jogged back to their own half to restart play, Spanish comntator García watched the slow-motion replay of Shane's face on his monitor and sighed with genuine awe.
"It is now a statistical probability that Atlético Madrid will secure their fifth consecutive victory! They are up 3-0, playing at ho, with the crowd entirely behind them. It is practically impossible for Valencia to mount a coback from here!"
And his assessnt was perfectly accurate.
Over the final twenty minutes of the match...
Valencia failed to muster any semblance of an effective counter-attack. Their spirit was completely broken.
For the first ti since his debut, Shane played the full ninety minutes without being substituted.
The mont the final whistle echoed across the stadium...
Every single television cara imdiately locked onto Shane Carter.
He raised his arms, clapping above his head, sharing the victory with the roaring ho supporters.
Up in the VIP box, Jorge ndes stood up gracefully.
He applauded slowly, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Miguel Ángel Gil Marín.
The broadcast feed imdiately cut to a tight close-up of the two n.
"Jorge ndes is in the building, watching the match alongside Atlético CEO Miguel Ángel Gil Marín. Given Carter's performance today, surely Atlético Madrid is preparing to hand him a contract that accurately reflects his massive new status?" García speculated loudly over the broadcast.
As the cara eventually cut away from the VIP box...
ndes slowly took his seat.
He turned to Gil Marín, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "He's becoming even more complete, isn't he, my friend?"
Gil Marín felt a potent mixture of intense joy and suffocating anxiety.
Under Sione, Atlético Madrid had just secured a five-match winning streak.
This phenonal run of form drastically relieved the intense pressure on Gil Marín, who had personally championed the controversial decision to sack Gregorio Manzano mid-season.
Sione had proven his worth.
The club was finally back on the right track.
And more importantly, Atlético Madrid had unearthed a generational teenage prodigy to serve as the new tactical core of the franchise.
Perhaps, in the future, Shane would follow the exact sa path as Torres, Agüero, and De Gea, eventually packing his bags for a super-club.
But the imdiate, terrifying problem was...
He didn't have a professional contract right now.
The Atlético Madrid board of directors would absolutely murder Gil Marín if he allowed an asset currently valued in the tens of millions to walk out the door for free.
Yet, simultaneously, the club's rigid wage structure made it nearly impossible to hand an eighteen-year-old kid a maximum-tier base salary.
It was an excruciating dilemma.
ndes smiled knowingly.
"Miguel... my client simply requires financial compensation that accurately reflects the club's sincerity and values his contribution. As for the format of that compensation—whether it is structured as base salary, or delivered through alternative chanisms... we are entirely flexible."
Gil Marín understood instantly.
The base salary...
Was negotiable.
But the total financial package... could not be reduced.
It simply had to be delivered through different channels.
For example: an astronomical signing bonus, or easily attainable performance bonuses.
By structuring the deal this way...
Atlético's internal wage hierarchy wouldn't be visibly shattered to the rest of the dressing room.
And Shane would still receive the massive payday he commanded.
It was, on paper, a perfect compromise.
"We are more than willing to provide a substantial signing bonus. He has undeniably earned it," Gil Marín nodded, speaking fluent agent-code.
From Atlético's perspective...
Securing Shane on a senior contract was essentially the sa as completing a massive free transfer.
Paying a hefty signing fee to a "free agent" was standard industry practice.
"Our absolute floor for the base salary is three million euros..."
ndes stated smoothly.
"However... to compensate for reducing our demand from five million, you must bridge that two-million-euro gap elsewhere."
"If Atlético Madrid wishes to lock Shane down to a five-year contract... our condition is a guaranteed base salary of three million euros, supplented by a one-ti signing bonus of ten million euros."
Gil Marín's jaw practically unhinged.
You absolute, bloodsucking extortionist.
A five-year contract.
Every single person in the football industry knew the truth.
Given his current trajectory, Shane would likely leave Atlético Madrid in a maximum of two or three seasons. If he transferred early, Atlético naturally wouldn't have to pay out the remainder of his wages. But ndes was essentially demanding that 40% of the entire five-year wage package be paid out instantly, in cash, on day one.
A ten-million-euro lump sum signing bonus for a teenager... it was staggering.
ndes chuckled softly. "My friend, our terms are incredibly generous. If you were negotiating with that fat Italian agent, Mino Raiola, he wouldn't even entertain a conversation at this price point. You know exactly how many super-clubs are currently willing to offer my client vastly superior financial packages."
"The only reason we are sitting at this table... is because my client genuinely respects Atlético Madrid."
Gil Marín sighed heavily.
He knew he was trapped.
ndes had completely outmaneuvered him.
Three million base, ten million signing bonus...
Honestly, factoring in Shane's terrifying ceiling and imdiate impact...
It was still a highly profitable long-term investnt for Atlético.
Gil Marín took a deep breath. "In principle... we can agree to this financial structure. However, I must obtain formal authorization from the board of directors before we sign anything."
ndes nodded gracefully.
While Atlético Madrid possessed a massive socio mbership base, they were not a purely fan-owned club like Real Madrid or Barcelona.
Their corporate structure was much closer to an English Premier League club. Their equity was distributed, governed by a board of directors, with the President acting as the ultimate authority figure. While Gil Marín was the CEO and handled the daily operations...
His ultimate power flowed from the President of the club, Enrique Cerezo.
Authorizing an unprecedented, massive financial package for a teenager required Cerezo's explicit rubber stamp.
...
Down on the pitch.
In the mixed zone.
A chaotic swarm of rabid journalists descended upon Shane the mont he erged from the tunnel.
"Shane! Shane! Is it true Sir Alex Ferguson personally called your cell phone? Can you confirm?"
"Shane, British tabloids are reporting that Manchester City is preparing a two-hundred-thousand-pound weekly contract..."
"Pep Guardiola stated in a press conference that your profile perfectly fits Barcelona! Are you interested in playing alongside Lionel ssi?!"
"Paris Saint-Germain is reportedly willing to make you the highest-paid teenager in world football..."
"Are you going to sign a professional contract with Atlético?!"
In an instant...
A forest of microphones was violently thrust into Shane's face, a barrage of frantic questions drowning out the stadium noise.
The press didn't care about the crucial "battle for third place" that had just occurred.
They only cared about the contract drama.
The winter transfer window closed in exactly thirty-six hours.
If a buzzer-beating, blockbuster transfer occurred now...
It would be the biggest story of the decade!
Shane offered the caras a calm, dia-trained smile. "I am extrely happy in Madrid. I intend to fully respect my current relationship with Atlético Madrid."
...
In front of a massive television screen in a private Madrid estate...
Atlético President Enrique Cerezo frowned deeply as he watched the live interview.
Respect my current relationship with Atlético Madrid.
Cerezo knew exactly what that ant.
Shane was currently on a youth contract.
A contract that held absolutely zero legal binding power regarding transfers.
As Cerezo pondered the implications...
His phone rang. It was Gil Marín.
Listening to Gil Marín detail ndes's financial demands, Cerezo's frown deepened into a scowl.
He obviously recognized that the demands were incredibly steep for a club of Atlético's financial tier.
But...
Cerezo was viewing the situation from a macro-economic perspective.
"Miguel... if he refuses to sign a professional contract with us and leaves for free... exactly how much capital will this club lose?"
Gil Marín fell dead silent on the other end of the line.
"Tell ndes we intend to finalize the contract imdiately. Preferably... tomorrow morning!"
Cerezo ordered decisively.
...
Later that evening.
Resting on his sofa back in his apartnt, Shane received a phone call from ndes.
"A ten-million-euro signing bonus? Isn't that... a bit excessive?"
Shane was genuinely surprised. Despite his confidence, ten million euros in raw cash was a staggering concept.
"Excessive?" ndes chuckled through the speaker. "Think about it logically, Shane. If Atlético Madrid were attempting to sign an established, world-class midfielder of your exact caliber on a free transfer... what kind of exorbitant signing fee would they have to pay the player?"
Shane blinked, processing the economics.
"I understand your logic, Jorge. But your premise is slightly flawed..."
"Oh? How so?"
"Because there isn't a single midfielder on this planet currently operating at my level... who is also available on a free transfer."
Shane corrected him deadpan.
"Hahahaha! An excellent point!"
ndes roared with laughter.
"Ah, Gil Marín is calling on the other line. I suspect... our little contract dispute is about to be completely resolved."
...
And ndes was perfectly accurate.
An hour later.
ndes called back to confirm the details.
The primary frawork of the contract was officially locked in.
A three-million-euro base salary, a ten-million-euro signing bonus, a performance incentive structure mirroring Radal Falcao's, and a guaranteed 10% annual wage increase.
The only remaining point of friction... was the release clause.
La Liga operated under vastly different legal fraworks compared to the rest of Europe.
In other leagues, release clauses (if they existed at all) were generally negotiated to be sowhat realistic, or tied proportionally to a player's wages. If a club wanted to slap a massive release clause on a player, they generally had to pay them a massive salary to justify it.
But in Spain, mandatory release clauses were legally required by labor law. However, there was no legal cap on the actual amount.
Therefore, it was purely a matter of brutal negotiation between the player and the club.
This unique legal quirk frequently resulted in Spanish clubs slapping utterly absurd, astronomical release clauses on their players (often reaching into the hundreds of millions or even billions of euros for Real Madrid and Barca stars).
Regarding Shane's specific contract...
Atlético Madrid desperately wanted to insert a one-hundred-million-euro release clause.
But ndes flatly refused, capping his counter-offer at sixty million.
You're only paying my client three million a year in base wages, and you have the audacity to demand a hundred-million release clause? You're dreaming.
However, from Atlético's perspective...
A sixty-million-euro release clause was terrifyingly low. They knew with absolute certainty that by next sumr, a super-club would happily trigger that clause without blinking.
Gestifute's legal team and Atlético's executives debated the clause late into the night.
anwhile, as the transfer window officially entered its final twenty-four hours...
The global dia frenzy reached a fever pitch.
In England, Sky Sports posted a massive graphic on their social dia accounts:
[The Beckham Curve Arrives in La Liga! Is Shane Carter the Ultimate Deadline-Day Blockbuster?!]
The post featured a high-definition video of Shane's physics-defying free kick against Valencia.
And in the comnts section below the video, thousands of fans imdiately noticed sothing incredible.
David Beckham had officially "liked" the post.
This tiny social dia interaction sent the Manchester United fanbase into absolute overdrive.
"Co to Old Trafford! The Number 7 shirt is waiting for you!"
"Shane, the Theatre of Dreams is calling!"
And the chaos wasn't limited to that single post.
Shane's personal Twitter ntions were instantly flooded by thousands of desperate United supporters, quickly joined by aggressive fanbases from Arsenal, Chelsea, and Real Madrid.
On the final day of the winter transfer window...
The entire footballing world seed to be holding its breath, desperately waiting for the ultimate deadline-day bombshell.
This dia circus caused massive anxiety among the Atlético Madrid supporters.
Every major news outlet had their caras pointed squarely at the Calderón.
But Madrid remained totally, agonizingly silent.
Until that afternoon.
With exactly eight hours remaining before the transfer window officially slamd shut.
Atlético Madrid's official website and Twitter account simultaneously published a massive, breaking announcent:
"Atlético Madrid is thrilled to announce that the club has signed a formal morandum of understanding with Shane Carter. The official senior contract will be formally executed and signed on February 14th, upon Shane's eighteenth birthday."
The announcent was accompanied by a high-quality photograph: Diego Sione, Shane Carter, Gil Marín, and President Enrique Cerezo, all standing together, smiling warmly at the cara.
The mont the news dropped...
A massive, collective sigh of relief washed over the red-and-white half of Madrid.
Although the actual, legal contract couldn't be signed until his birthday, the club had successfully secured an ironclad gentleman's agreent with their superstar.
Consequently, the final hours of the winter transfer window passed peacefully for Atlético.
Across Europe, fans of the rival super-clubs expressed their profound disappointnt online.
But the reality of the situation was glaringly obvious.
The transfer rumors surrounding Shane Carter were not dead. As long as he continued to dominate on the pitch, the noise would only grow louder.
Because in the eyes of the global football community...
A club of Atlético Madrid's stature simply could not cage a true, generational Galáctico forever.
For now...
The war for his signature had rely been postponed.
Read ahead with 70 chapters now with daily updates!
@patreon/Authorizz
User Comments
0 comments from readers