c15 - The Smiths
"Mr. Langley, can I request a loan move now?" Vardy asked directly.
"This is impossible. What you need to focus on right now is building a strong foundation. Young players shouldn't be too eager for quick success. Every bit of effort you put in now will pay off in the future. You need to be patient," Langley replied firmly.
Vardy nodded reluctantly but couldn't shake the thought from his mind.
For young players who are not yet ready for the first team but show promise, being sent out on loan is a common practice at Manchester United. Vardy knew that most of his U18 teammates would likely experience a loan spell at some point. Of course, not all of them would make it back to Old Trafford.
Getting regular game time in a competitive environment was far better than lingering in the Manchester United youth setup without opportunities. If breaking into the first team wasn't an option for now, securing a loan move became his next realistic goal.
The club arranged for him to stay with a host family, just a ten-minute drive from the Carrington Training Complex. The area was quiet, perfect for young players to focus on their development without the distractions of city life.
After all, players in a bustling area might be tempted by Manchester's vibrant nightlife, which had led to problems in the past. The club was careful to avoid such pitfalls.
His host family, the Smiths, were a couple in their early thirties with no children, but their biggest identity? Die-hard Manchester United fans.
The moment Vardy heard their name, he felt a bit uneasy. His mind immediately flashed to the Hollywood movie Mr. & Mrs. Smith, picturing Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie wielding guns in a spy thriller.
Of course, the film hadn't been released yet, so no one else would get the reference.
Vardy tried to calm himself. It was just a coincidence. The name Smith was common, and not everyone with it was a secret agent.
But when he actually saw them, his first instinct was to turn around and run.
Mr. Smith wore a tailored black suit with an unbuttoned jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt underneath. His polished black leather shoes gleamed in the sunlight. His sharp, angular jawline and piercing eyes made him look more like an MI6 operative than a host parent.
Mrs. Smith had a sleek black dress, long blonde hair cascading over one eye, and an air of quiet confidence. She had a subtle smirk, like she was hiding some grand secret.
This was no ordinary couple.
"Oh my God, are you two playing the secret agent game again? I'm starting to think it was a bad decision for the club to place Jamie here!" Langley sighed as soon as he saw them, clearly familiar with their antics.
"Secret agent game?" Vardy thought. "They are agents!"
Unfortunately, Langley couldn't hear his inner panic.
"Life is too boring without a little fun. Just like you, Langley. Don't think we don't know about your, uh… extracurricular interests," Mr. Smith joked, winking at him.
Langley's face instantly turned red. He hurriedly pushed Vardy forward, eager to change the subject.
"This is Jamie Vardy, a new talent for the U18s. I brought him from Sheffield. He's got raw ability and could be a future star for United," Langley said, hoping to move on quickly.
"Welcome, Jamie! We're the biggest United fans you'll ever meet. This club is our religion. Don't worry about a thing—just focus on football," Mr. Smith said warmly, pulling Vardy into a firm handshake.
The proper response would have been, Thank you, I really appreciate this, but all Vardy could think was, How do I get out of here?
"Mr. Langley, are you sure this household meets the club's standards for boarding young players?" Vardy blurted out.
Technically, the Smiths didn't meet all of United's usual criteria. Mrs. Smith was young and attractive, and housing a teenage footballer in such an environment carried certain risks. If something inappropriate ever happened, it would be a scandal for both the player and the club.
Langley chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, but don't worry. Mr. Smith works from home, so there's always supervision. The club wouldn't place you somewhere that didn't meet our standards."
Vardy tried again to protest, but before he could, Langley shoved him inside.
Mr. Smith had already carried Vardy's suitcase upstairs. It was over. Escape was no longer an option.
As Langley walked out the door, he turned back with a final instruction. "Tomorrow at 7:30 AM, the youth team bus will pick you up from here. Be ready and waiting outside. After the first day, you can make your own way to training."
Vardy gave a weak wave, as if he were bidding farewell to his last hope.
"No need to be so tense. Think of this place as your home," Mr. Smith said, trying to ease the mood. "Can I get you something to drink? Whiskey? Maybe a cocktail?"
Before Vardy could react, Mrs. Smith playfully scolded him. "Darling, Jamie is an athlete and underage. No alcohol! I'll get you some juice."
Vardy nodded, but his mind was still racing.
Were they really just a normal couple?
He couldn't shake the thought that there might be a hidden arsenal of weapons under the sofa.
Then again, in the movie, the Smiths were the good guys. Maybe he'd be safe.
Unless, of course, they started an all-out battle in the house… in which case, he'd better duck.
Of course, if they had a different kind of passionate energy to burn off… well, that might be interesting to watch.
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