"I have a Europa League qualifier in six days," I said.
"I know," she said. "Use it. Show how you’re developing your players, not just your team. Send the report after the ga."
The call ended. I sat back in my chair and looked at the note on my pad. She was right. It was a blind spot. And it was one I needed to fix.
After the afternoon session, Freedman appeared in my office doorway. He was holding a single sheet of paper. He didn’t say anything. He just walked in, closed the door behind him, and placed the paper on the desk in front of .
I looked at it. It was a scouting report. A single na at the top.
Serge Gnabry.
I read it. Twenty-two years old. Werder Bren. Winger. The report was concise and brutal. Forr Arsenal academy product, sold to Bren for a pittance after a disastrous loan spell at West Brom where he had been publicly written off as not being good enough.
He had gone to Germany and quietly, systematically, rebuilt his career. He was now, according to the report, one of the most dangerous wide forwards in the Bundesliga. Direct, two-footed, explosive, with a low centre of gravity and a ferocious shot. He could play on the left, on the right, or as a number ten. He was a nightmare for defenders.
At the bottom of the report was a single line, highlighted in yellow: Release Clause: £5,000,000.
I looked up at Freedman. He was watching , his expression unreadable.
"Five million," I said.
"It’s clean," he said. "No negotiation, no add-ons, no sell-on clause. We pay the five million, we talk to the player. That’s it."
I pulled up the System’s scouting report on my tablet. It confird every word Freedman had said, and added one more, crucial detail.
> System Assessnt: [Serge Gnabry]
> Strengths: Pace, dribbling, finishing, two-footedness.
> Weaknesses: Occasional defensive lapses.
> Potential: High. Potential to beco world-class.
I slid the tablet across the desk to Freedman. He glanced at it and nodded, as if he had already known what it would say.
"He’s the cover for Zaha," I said. "He’s the depth on the left wing we don’t have. He’s a twenty-two-year-old with a world-class ceiling and a five-million-pound release clause in a market where average players are going for twenty."
"I know," Freedman said.
"Trigger it," I said. "Now. Before soone else does."
Freedman nodded. "The papers will take a few days to sort out," he said. "He won’t be registered in ti for the first leg against
"I don’t care," I said. "I want him in the squad for the second leg. I want him in the building. I want him on the training pitch. Trigger the clause."
He turned and walked out of the office without another word. I sat back in my chair and stared at the na on the sheet of paper. Serge Gnabry. It was a gamble. But it was a gamble I was more than willing to take.
Late that afternoon, I walked up to Steve Parish’s office on the top floor of the main building. He was on the phone, pacing back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the training pitches. He saw , held up a finger, and finished his call.
"Danny," he said, his voice warm. "Good to have you back. How was Singapore?"
"Productive," I said. "We got a lot of good work done."
We talked for a few minutes about the tour, about the new signings, about the general mood around the club. Then the conversation turned to the Brøndby ga.
"First European away ga in a long ti," Parish said, a note of genuine excitent in his voice. "It’s a big mont for the club."
"It is," I said. "And I’ve been thinking about the fans."
He listened, his expression attentive.
"This is a historic mont," I said. "The first European away ga in modern history. The fans who have followed this club through the years in the Championship, through the administration, through everything they deserve to be there. They’re the ones who have earned this, as much as the players."
"I agree," he said.
"I was thinking," I said, the idea forming as I spoke, "that I would be happy to personally cover the cost of the tickets and the transport for a few hundred of them. The die-hards. The ones who go to every away ga, no matter what. A gesture. A thank you."
Parish was silent for a long mont. He looked at , then he looked out the window at the training pitches below. He leaned forward, his hands on his desk.
"A few hundred?" he said, his voice quiet.
I nodded.
"Danny," he said, and there was a new, sharp intensity in his eyes. "This is Crystal Palace Football Club’s first European away ga in modern history. We are not doing this by halves."
By the ti I walked out of his office twenty minutes later, the club had committed to covering the full cost of flights from Gatwick, hotel accommodation in Copenhagen, and match tickets for five thousand Crystal Palace fans in a stadium that held twenty-eight thousand. I walked back down the corridor in a state of mild shock, wondering exactly how a quiet, personal gesture had just turned into a full-scale airlift.
The System pinged in the back of my mind. I barely registered it.
> System Notification: [Club Action]
> Action: Subsidised fan travel for Brøndby (A)
> Impact: Squad Morale 15%. Fan Engagent: Maximum.
I got into my car in the car park and just sat there for a minute, the engine off, the quiet of the late afternoon settling around . Then I pulled out my phone and called Emma.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Hey," she said, her voice warm and familiar.
"You’re not going to believe what I’ve just done," I said.
I told her. She was silent for a mont. Then she started to laugh. A full, genuine, unrestrained laugh that went on for about thirty seconds.
"Five thousand people," she said, when she finally stopped.
"Five thousand," I said.
"Danny Walsh from Moss Side," she said, "is flying five thousand people to Denmark."
"When you say it like that," I said, "it sounds irresponsible."
"It is irresponsible," she said. "It’s also the most you thing you have ever done." A pause. "I’m proud of you, you know."
I sat in the car park and listened to the city hum around . The evening light was fading over the training ground, the last of the groundstaff heading ho. In six days, five thousand Palace fans would be in Copenhagen. In six days, the real season would begin.
"I’ll be ho in an hour," I said.
"I’ll keep dinner warm," she said.
I started the engine.
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