c32: Little Ferguson
Perhaps Vardy's cold attitude surprised Jason Ferguson, so he remained silent during the drive. It wasn't until they arrived at a high-end restaurant in central Liverpool that Ferguson Jr. resumed his enthusiasm, speaking with the charm of a seasoned negotiator.
It was a matter of vested interests. In his mind, signing Vardy who had just scored a sensational goal against Manchester United, stunning De Gea with a long-range chip could bring him enormous benefits. That was the real driver behind his approach. Otherwise, why would he bother with a player from Sheffield who, just a few months ago, was playing non-league football with Stocksbridge Park Steels?
"I know you don't have an agent yet. How about we work together?" Ferguson Jr.'s tone was dripping with temptation. "You know, my father, Sir Alex Ferguson, controls everything at Manchester United. I won't deny that it gives me unparalleled access. With me representing you, I can bring you back to Old Trafford."
"Manchester United isn't just a club it's a global brand. The world watches every move we make. Everton can't offer that kind of platform. Just imagine under the Theatre of Dreams spotlight, with the Red Devils jersey on your back, you'll be part of football royalty."
"Once you're back at United and leading the line, the sponsorships will flood in Nike, Adidas, EA Sports. You'll be driving Ferraris, dating actresses, living in a mansion in Alderley Edge, like Cristiano Ronaldo did in 2006. You want that life, don't you?"
Vardy blinked in disbelief, staring at Ferguson Jr., who was waxing lyrical like a motivational speaker in some kind of get-rich-quick seminar. Did this guy moonlight in one of those pyramid scheme operations?
Sure, it all sounded good on paper. But Vardy was grounded. He knew football wasn't about flashy perks; it was about consistency, improvement, and seizing moments like the one at Goodison Park where he'd humiliated United's defense and announced himself on the Premier League stage. Besides, he had the system. With the right training and steady performances, stardom was inevitable agent or not. Manchester United was big, but they weren't the only superpower. There was Arsenal, Liverpool, Chelsea, even rising giants like Manchester City.
With a calm expression, Vardy played the innocent. "That life sounds amazing exactly the kind of future I'm chasing. But what does any of that have to do with working with you?"
After all, he wasn't even 18 yet. Playing the naive youngster was easy, especially in front of someone who thought he could manipulate him with shiny promises.
"I have the influence to help you realize all that. My network, combined with your on-pitch explosiveness think of it as the perfect partnership," Ferguson Jr. said coolly, leaning back in his chair.
Vardy arched an eyebrow and gave a faint smirk. "So you're saying that without you, I'd be back on the farm, kicking a ball against a barn wall?"
The jab hit its mark.
Ferguson Jr.'s smile faltered. The mask of politeness slipped. The gentlemanly façade disappeared, replaced by a calculating glint behind his designer glasses. The predator lurking beneath had just been provoked and Vardy saw right through him.
Perhaps Vardy's cold attitude caught Ferguson Jr. off guard, leaving him unusually quiet throughout the drive.
Only after they arrived at an upscale restaurant in the heart of Liverpool did Ferguson Jr. regain his fake enthusiasm, launching into a passionate monologue.
The reason was simple personal gain. From his perspective, helping Vardy sign a contract would earn him both money and prestige. That was his true motivation. Otherwise, why would he bother with a scrappy lower-league player?
"I know you don't have an agent yet. How about we work together?" Ferguson Jr. said with a tone full of persuasion. "You see, my father, Sir Alex Ferguson, still holds great influence at Manchester United. I won't deny that this gives me certain privileges. I can get you back to Old Trafford. That's something nobody else can promise."
"Manchester United is a true footballing empire. The eyes of the world are glued to them. No offense to Everton, but they're not in the same league commercially or historically."
"Just imagine playing for United, scoring at Old Trafford, your name chanted by 75,000 fans. The big sponsors will come crawling. You'll have luxury cars, posh homes, A-list parties, even Vogue-cover models lining up for you. Everything you've dreamed of is right there if you follow me."
"Don't you want that kind of life?"
Vardy blinked, watching Ferguson Jr. wax lyrical like he was selling timeshare condos. Why did this feel like one of those multi-level marketing speeches you'd hear in a second-rate seminar hall?
The offer sounded glamorous, sure but it didn't sit right with him. Vardy didn't believe that Ferguson Jr. had that kind of pull.
In reality, whether he returned to United or not was irrelevant to him. With his current performance.like the match against United where he scored and earned Man of the Match he knew big clubs would come calling eventually. United wasn't the only superpower in the Premier League anymore. Chelsea had Roman Abramovich's billions, Arsenal had Wenger's legacy, and even upstarts like Tottenham were gaining traction.
And most importantly, Vardy had the system.
As long as he kept progressing, he would eventually become a global star. Maybe even compete with legends like Thierry Henry or Didier Drogba in goal-scoring status. At that point, brands would beg him to represent them. What did any of that have to do with Ferguson Jr.?
So when Ferguson Jr. pitched him the whole "I can make you" act, it left Vardy thoroughly disgusted.
"Of course, that lifestyle sounds great, and it's what I'm working toward," Vardy replied, playing dumb. "But what does any of this have to do with you?"
He was still just 17. It wasn't unreasonable to play the role of a clueless teen when facing a manipulative adult like Ferguson Jr.
"I have the influence to make all this happen. Your talent plus my network it's the perfect formula," Ferguson Jr. said smugly.
Vardy tilted his head. "So, what you're saying is without you, I'd be back shoveling manure in Sheffield?"
Finally, Ferguson Jr. caught the mocking tone in Vardy's voice. The forced smile vanished, and his eyes behind the glasses hardened.
---
"If you're happy playing in amateur leagues, be my guest. You've seen how many players loaned to United vanish into obscurity!" Ferguson Jr. snapped, his voice colder now. He figured that a dose of threat might knock Vardy down a peg. After all, he was still a kid, barely out of academy level.
But to Vardy, this was pure intimidation and laughable at that.
Sure, Ferguson Jr. could throw his dad's name around and do the occasional wheeling and dealing behind the scenes, but he had no real authority. If Vardy performed like he did against United bursting off the bench, terrorizing defenders, scoring under pressure would the club really ignore him?
Old Trafford fans would riot on social media if that happened.
Besides, did Vardy even want to return to United?
"I think Everton's fine. Less drama, more football. United seems a bit… stressful," Vardy said with a playful shrug.
Ferguson Jr. nearly exploded. He had humbled himself to court this no-name kid, and now the kid dared to mock him?
He wasn't used to this. Usually, young players fell over themselves to curry favor. But not Vardy.
Damn brat.
Doesn't he know what kind of opportunity he's refusing?
Unable to threaten or persuade, Ferguson Jr. was left floundering. For years, he'd relied on his father's name to open doors but now he stood exposed, his real power utterly hollow.
He glared at Vardy with narrowed eyes, but the teenager was happily tucking into his steak, thoroughly unbothered. With his current salary, he couldn't afford fine dining often might as well enjoy it when someone else was footing the bill.
"When you come to your senses, you know where to find me," Ferguson Jr. said at last, his tone ice-cold as he stormed out of the restaurant.
Vardy shook his head with a smile. These suited guys always thought glasses made them smart. He'd rather work with a no-name agent who actually cared than a pompous leech like this guy.
---
Later that night, bored and lounging in his cramped apartment, Vardy logged into the system to check his progress.
After the 2–1 win over Manchester United, he had racked up rewards 3 points for the team win, 1 goal bonus, and 1 Man of the Match award. That meant 5 system coins total.
Last time he checked the system shop, Vardy had learned that 5 coins could buy a feature point something that had serious performance impact.
He remembered how "Super Substitute (Lv2)" gave him an explosive edge when he came on against United. His pressing, sprinting, and finishing were all sharper. Without that buff, his goal might not have happened at all.
But he hesitated.
If he saved up 30 system coins, he could buy a Goddess Encounter Card and the idea of having a supermodel fall into his lap wasn't exactly unappealing. He was a teenage footballer with hormones and dreams what else did anyone expect?
Still, Vardy struggled between temptation and long-term value.
In the end, logic won out.
Better to level up now and earn the lifestyle later. If he became a Premier League superstar like Wayne Rooney or Fernando Torres, he wouldn't need any card to meet women.
Vardy made up his mind.
He opened the system shop but what he saw made him curse aloud.
It had refreshed.
The trait point item was gone, and all six slots had changed. New items were listed some expensive, others completely useless for now.
Just great.
He couldn't afford anything good, and what he could afford wasn't what he needed. It was the system's way of forcing him to save whether he liked it or not.
Then came a silver lining.
As part of the system's periodic settlement, Vardy was awarded 1 characteristic point for his comedic interaction with the Old Trafford crowd. During the match, he had cupped his ears and soaked up their boos like a pantomime villain, winning the crowd's ironic hatred.
Ordinarily, the system didn't reward pure antics. But this was his debut in the limelight, so it made an exception.
How generous.
Without hesitation, Vardy assigned the new characteristic point to his only trait: Super Substitute, upgrading it from Level 2 to Level 3.
Now, he was even more dangerous off the bench.
Let the next opponent beware.
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