"Oh!"
Before long, the two heard a thunderous cheer from outside, shaking the ground and walls beneath their feet.
They were inside the stadium, right under the fan section, so this feeling was normal.
Maël listened carefully and smiled, "That's our goal, it must be."
Gilbert nodded in agreement; the away fans couldn't make that kind of noise.
"Yeah!" More than ten minutes later, another sound came, just as grand as the last.
Clearly, it was the home fans shouting again.
They had crushed Portsmouth and won a great victory at home! Maël's expression changed several times, finally settling on a sigh. "Remember two months ago at home, we judged whether it was our team or the opponent scoring by the loudness of the cheers?"
"Yeah."
Gilbert also looked emotional, recalling that time. "Back then, Kevin was still here, and neither of us could even make the squad list. Who would have thought we'd be experiencing all this as participants now?"
"Not just participants." As they talked, Maël didn't hold back, raising an eyebrow. "But contributing participants."
He had scored two goals today, and Gilbert had an assist, meaning they had created three goals together, covering all the goals before the end of the game.
From their previous perspective, this was unbelievable.
No one had expected them to progress so quickly, not even themselves.
"So, does that mean we're sitting here, having achieved fame and stepping away?"
Gilbert laughed a few times, his face slowly turning serious again. He took a breath and sighed, "I just wonder, where will we stop?"
He was afraid that all of this was just a bubble, suddenly disappearing when he woke up one day.
Maël didn't answer his question; he didn't know where he would stop either.
Never stopping?
That seemed unlikely, but he wanted to go further.
In this country of football, he hoped to stand at the highest point, experiencing the boldness of seeing all the mountains as small, the highest pursuit of a player.
"We win, we're number one!"
Just as he was thinking, a cheesy British celebration song came from outside, "Put on your shoes, wipe the mud off your body, and go home to cry—!"
Happy footsteps approached, and the Sheffield United players pushed open the door and walked back into the locker room, celebrating with their hands raised.
They didn't give Maël and Gilbert, who had caused the controversy today, any chance to speak, treating them equally by pulling them up and dancing their self-created dance.
Sadness, sighs, or comforting words?
Nothing was more comfortable than celebrating; if you win, don't worry about so much, just have fun first! Maël swung his shoulders, twisted his hips, and joined the celebration wave with a laugh.
Only then did he enter the happy atmosphere.
After this game, his stats had reached 4 goals and 4 assists, creating 8 goals so far this season! He was getting closer to the 15 goals needed for his next raise! With this kind of performance, he would probably attract Professor Wenger's attention soon. He had already stood on his tiptoes on the springboard, just waiting to bounce up.
"Five to zero! Portsmouth can't find north! A shutout victory!"
The team captain, Robert, raised his gloves, claiming credit. "I saved at least two excellent scoring opportunities for them; the schedule has eased up, you have to buy me a drink!"
Many people agreed, and even the team's assistant coach, Joelson, pointed at him and laughed, "If no one else invites you, I will!"
Another cheer rang out until the head coach, Gareth Speed, walked in from outside, and the sound diminished slightly.
Everyone turned to look at him, knowing he would definitely say something.
Gareth Speed was very straightforward. He came to Gilbert's side. "From the team's perspective, that was a stupid and reckless action, a departure from professional ethics."
"But from a personal perspective, I support you, and I think Maël will too."
Maël looked at him and nodded, listening to him continue, "I will use all my connections to put pressure on The FA to impose the lightest possible penalty, but you definitely can't escape it, understand?"
"Thanks, boss, I understand." Gilbert smiled brightly, putting one hand on his forehead and flicking it out, indicating that he was fine.
Gareth Speed turned his head and looked around, his serious expression suddenly changing to a smile. "Continue your revelry; you deserve all of this. Maël, come with me to the post-match press conference."
"Oh!" Cheers erupted here again, and the players sang the song from just now again, many people closing their eyes and enjoying it all.
Maël followed Gareth Speed out, walking with him towards the post-match press conference room.
Along the way, Gareth Speed didn't give him any instructions, probably trusting that he wouldn't say anything out of line.
Bar Street, Kodall's shop.
The joy of a resounding five-to-zero victory spread here, with most of the fans already red-faced from drinking, loudly spouting nonsense.
"I'm telling you, when I was 16, my talent was about the same as Maël Gilbert's, I was in Reading Youth Training back then!"
"You were nothing."
The scene of the press conference appeared on the TV at this moment, with Maël and Gareth Speed sitting in the main seats, and a dense crowd of cameras below.
"Congratulations to Maël for being selected as the best player of the match again, this is a commemorative trophy, I'm sorry to hand it to you here, you went back to the locker room just now." A staff member took out a small crystal cup.
At this moment, many fans raised their glasses and toasted towards Maël on the TV.
Obviously, they had already regarded Maël as one of their own, wanting to celebrate with him.
"Transfermarkt revealed yesterday that they will update player valuations on September 23rd, what kind of increase do you think your valuation will have?" A reporter stood up and asked such a question.
Maël was still thinking, but the fans in the bar were already helping him answer.
"Five million euros!"
"Four million!"
"No, eight million euros!"
"Wrong! Now there are teams offering eight million euros to buy Maël, do you think Arsenal will let him go?"
"Transfermarkt is authoritative, but the valuation given is also far from the player's actual value, I guess Transfermarkt will give around five million euros."
They all talked at once, making it so that others couldn't even hear Maël's own answer clearly, only seeing him smile, as if he was joking.
Kodall, sitting at the front desk, didn't say this to everyone, his psychological price was around six to seven million euros.
"...Go home and cry!" A neat singing voice came from outside the door, with great momentum.
Kodall turned his head to look, it was the celebrating team that had just finished watching the game in the stadium, their faces flushed, and many people's voices were a little hoarse.
After seeing that there was a bar here doing activities with Maël, many people walked towards here, and as soon as they came in, they asked about signed gifts.
"Maël played so well today, it's worth spending a hundred pounds for him!"
"Old man, I want one too, hurry up and get me one."
"Me too!"
They shouted, creating a new wave of chaos and noise.
Kodall waved his hand with a wry smile, he also had happy troubles now, "There are no more, there is a limited purchase of 25 copies per week, everyone can come again later."
Many people left disappointed, but many people stayed and filled the empty tables.
Maël's influence spread here, this was a very successful micro-sized endorsement, he proved that he could be loved by the fans.
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