February 15th, Mendes made a special trip from Lisbon, Portugal, to Sheffield City, bringing with him two endorsement offers.
The two met at the same place as their first encounter. Mendes immediately praised Maël's recent performance, his face beaming: "Unbelievable, you've maintained that magic until now."
"I've never seen a lower-league player under my management receive several commercial endorsement offers."
He took out two contracts from his bag, waving them in his hand: "One is from a London-based sports drink brand, and the other is from a Sheffield-based startup sports apparel company."
"Endorsements already?"
Maël was quite surprised, he thought he would at least have to wait until he reached the Premier League to get similar deals.
"Don't get too excited."
Mendes didn't hand the contracts to Maël, but put them back into his briefcase, shaking his head: "These two endorsements are only for one year, with a total endorsement amount of £400,000. This is after I carefully selected the best ones."
"Given your current platform and level of influence, it's basically impossible to get large contracts."
He took the opportunity to encourage him: "But as I said before, if you can lead Sheffield United to Promotion to the Super League, everything will be doubled, including your commercial value."
"If you can capitalize on that momentum and make a name for yourself at Arsenal, your influence could break into the top twenty in the Premier League."
"So, should I sign or not?" Maël listened to his words, but this point was still unclear.
"Sign, of course."
Mendes was very candid, he didn't think there was any hesitation: "A short one-year contract, and mostly with startups, no public relations risks, what's wrong with making money for nothing? "Although I don't really need this, this..."
Seeing that his mental arithmetic was a bit off, Maël guessed what he was going to say and reminded him: "A £60,000 pre-tax commission?"
Mendes glanced at Maël with a slightly surprised look, and continued: "Yes, although I don't need it, I think you will definitely need this money in the early stages of your career."
"And going through the endorsement process earlier is also a way to get in touch with the industry, so you won't be completely clueless when negotiating with big brands in the future."
Maël said he understood, then asked with a naive look: "If you don't need it, can you skip the commission this time?"
"Ah..."
Mendes was embarrassed now, he froze on the spot: "The rules still have to be followed, actually it's okay, I really don't care about these things."
"I'm kidding." Maël laughed loudly, Mendes chuckled twice, and gradually returned to normal.
"No rush to sign."
He patted his bag, meaning he would keep it safe for now: "I talked to the London one before coming, and they increased it by £50,000. I'll talk to the Sheffield City one again this time."
"You play for Sheffield United, and your popularity in the city surpasses the Mayor of Sheffield City, they should agree."
"My expected total for both is around £500,000, after tax, you should get..."
Mendes looked at Maël for help, and the latter added for him: "£255,000, which is also a considerable income."
What Maël felt most at this moment was not the money, but Mendes' sincerity and dedication to him.
Such a big agent making a special trip for such a small amount of money is really not easy.
"Also, I'm working on the matter you mentioned."
Mendes started a new topic, smiling: "I have the contact information of the best private doctors in cities like Madrid, London, Lisbon, and Milan."
"But Sheffield United doesn't have that. Obviously, you want the best, but Sheffield United doesn't have the best. This is not urgent, let's finalize it when you go to London."
"As for private media account management, this is a complicated task. My suggestion is this, you should manage your Facebook yourself."
"The operator's thoughts cannot be synchronized with yours. Sometimes, mistakes in replying to comments can affect your future."
He rubbed his hands and smiled: "For other countries, you can entrust it to the Mendes Agency."
"We have a large number of personnel and experience in this area, and we will simultaneously open accounts on all social media platforms with a certain volume worldwide, send updates every day, and urge you to make blessing videos during festivals to attract traffic."
"I have no objections."
Maël took out his phone, opened the Instagram app, and handed it to Mendes, "Mr. Mendes, what do you think of this page? This app has been on the market for a few months, and has already registered over a hundred thousand users."
Mendes took it, swiped and clicked a few times, his eyes lit up: "Very good, is it because of the novelty? Why do I feel more comfortable than Facebook?"
He saw a business opportunity, "Over a hundred thousand users in a few months of launch, very promising.
"I would suggest that you, as one of the few minor celebrities among the registered users of this software, should consider contacting them to explore potential collaborations."
"Some startup platforms leverage the fame of minor celebrities to boost registration numbers. If you could get some shares, that would be great."
Maël nodded, noting the suggestion. He was well aware of the future explosive popularity and high market value of Instagram.
But... if he wanted to invest in such a company, it wouldn't be easy.
They usually seek funding through A, B, C, and subsequent rounds from specialized private equity funds, large consortia, and investors.
They not only seek capital but also leverage the connections and other resources of these large investors for development.
Mendes's suggestion offered him a way to use his existing influence to contact the company.
He decided to give it a try and see if they would respond.
If he could also have shares in this new company while developing a new account with them... that would be fantastic.
"See you in a few days. Don't underestimate the contract; there are quite a few procedures. I might have to go back to Lisbon, Portugal, in the meantime."
After dinner, it was already evening. The two parted ways on the street, and Mendes casually got into a business car, waving to Maël.
Maël waved back. In their daily interactions, Mendes was slowly gaining his favor.
One of his strengths was not pretending to be capable of everything, entrusting professional matters to professionals.
Because of this, he was slowly gathering people around him who could help him.
This was quite good, making him feel like he was advancing on multiple fronts, with a promising future.
On February 16th, Sheffield United, playing at home, welcomed a tough opponent—Reading, currently ranked fourth in the league standings, tied with them at 64 points.
Before the match started, in the players' tunnel, Maël felt like someone was watching him.
Turning his head, he saw Reading's captain, Sean Long, staring at him with a serious expression, as if he was curious enough to dissect him.
He didn't pay attention, adjusted his breathing, and prepared to step onto the passionate and uncertain field.
"..."
"A strong challenge! It's Sean Long, he shrugs off Quinn... a powerful shot! The ball goes into the far corner!!
"He waited a moment, allowing the defender to rush in and open up a shooting angle before taking the shot! Top-level EFL Championship forward, I'm looking forward to his performance in the Premier League!"
"..."
"It's Mark Yates, he's on the edge of the penalty area, advancing! Mills can't retreat any further, it's getting dangerous unless he can block the shot! Oh oh...! A clever push shot, the ball rolls through Mills's legs towards the goal, the goalkeeper can't effectively save a ball that goes through the defender's legs!
"One-one! An assist from Maël, Mark Yates jumps on Maël's back. They are competitors, but they seem to have a good relationship!"
"..."
"Griffin!! A powerful shot hits the mark, Robert has to admit he's getting old!! He no longer has the jumping ability and reaction speed of his youth!
"Reading regains the lead! Two-one!!"
"..."
"The situation is very tense, it's hard to know which side will score next. At this time, you must remain calm and avoid making mistakes.
"A long pass! In the center, Gilbert is moving up, he's arriving at the drop point!
"Maël goes directly behind the opponent's defense! He seems to understand Gilbert very well, will he flick it on?
"Yes! Gilbert flicks the ball, the ball flies towards Maël's path, Mills is struggling to keep up, he might have to go all out and collide with Maël!
"Maël staggers a few steps! Mills falls!! One-on-One, will he dribble past the goalkeeper like before?
"Stride, shoulder drop! Federici loses his balance, Maël, is facing an empty net, a push shot!!
"Beautiful goal! Two-two! In the 69th minute of the match, Maël scores a crucial goal!!"
The cheers of the whole stadium erupted, the home fans clapped and cheered wildly for them, and many media photographers began to move.
One reporter, standing next to Sean Long, used Sean Long's shoulders and head as a background, focusing on Maël running to the sideline and sliding on his knees, capturing a classic photo of this round of the EFL Championship.
In this photo, people could guess Sean Long's envy and complex mood at this moment from his slightly raised back looking at the sky.
"Two-two! In the battle for third and fourth place in the 31st round of the EFL Championship, the two sides shake hands and make peace, achieving a result that both can accept!" - Sheffield Evening News
February 17th, Emirates Stadium.
"Yeah!!"
Accompanied by the deafening shouts of the audience, more than 50,000 Arsenal fans stood up from their seats, some raising their arms and shouting, others clapping their hands wildly.
Wenger, wearing a cotton coat with the zipper still undone, jumped out of the bench to celebrate, and the entire Arsenal team went crazy at this moment.
All because they defeated Barcelona, the peak Dream Team with Messi, at home! Arshavin, who scored the winning goal, ran around the field, still with a trace of the 'Tsar's' remaining power.
Guardiola, who had just completed the six-crown achievement in 2009, bared his teeth and squeezed his face to express his regret. After hugging the players, he turned his attention to Arsenal's lineup.
Fabregas, wearing the number 4 jersey, was so conspicuous and coveted. They actually had a chance to sign him at the beginning of the season.
Fabregas seemed to feel his call, turned his head, and, regardless of the more than 50,000 Arsenal fans who were celebrating, revealed a hidden faint smile.
Wenger noticed this, and his face immediately changed from excitement to calm, and then slowly to gloom.
After walking into the player tunnel with the players, his excitement from winning had basically disappeared. He turned his head and looked at the figure who was deliberately slowing down, "Fabregas, hurry up."
"Oh."
Fabregas nodded and quickened his pace, but his eyes glanced to the left, seeing the hints from Pique and Xavi.
"Shoelaces are untied."
He stopped, squatted down to untie his shoelaces, and slowly tied them up, while paying attention to Wenger's steps.
Seeing the other party stop at the entrance of the locker room, hesitating for a moment, his heart skipped a beat. Fortunately, Wenger finally stepped in and closed the door.
Fabregas looked around to see if there were any hidden cameras, then put on a smiling expression and quickly walked to the two.
More than ten minutes later, when he slowly felt something was wrong and returned to the locker room.
What greeted him was a dead silence, and the unkind gazes of all the players. Wenger stood in the center of the locker room, just turning around with his arms folded.
Obviously, Wenger made everyone wait for him. Everyone hadn't said a word just now, just kept silent for more than ten minutes.
"Went to the toilet." Fabregas didn't want to tear his face apart. Wenger's repeated indulgence had gradually made him accustomed to this embarrassing scene.
"I am proud of you." Wenger faced the others, turned around, picked up a pen, and prepared to write something on the tactical board to summarize the game.
But when he raised his hand, his heart was a mess, and he didn't write anything for a long time. Finally, he dropped his arm and stood there with his head down.
It's strange, they clearly won.
There are three more chapters, I will finish writing them one after another!
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