Clubs

The next morning, Luka found himself in Dr. Braun's office, the team's chief medical officer. The doctor's furrowed brow as he examined the scan results didn't bode well.

"I didn't expect it to be this prone to injury," Dr. Braun muttered, more to himself than to Luka. "Luka, your body hasn't had a proper chance to adapt to this level of football. The constant high-intensity exercise has added significant stress to your muscles and joints."

Luka shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But I need to keep pushing to improve, don't I?"

Dr. Braun shook his head. "You need to focus more on recovery work. Your current regime is putting you at high risk for serious injury."

"But Doc," Luka protested, leaning forward, "if I don't get stronger, I'll keep struggling. I can feel it in every match."

"You're in a rush, Luka," Dr. Braun said gently. "You're only 17. Take it slow, build yourself up gradually. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither are football stars."

The doctor reached into a drawer and pulled out a familiar bottle of vitamins, along with some new athletic tape. "Here's a restock of those supplements I gave you before, and some improved tape for your ankles. Use them wisely."

As Luka left the office, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He headed out for training, trying to process everything Dr. Braun had said while also focusing on the upcoming match against Bayer Leverkusen.

Dortmund was currently second in the league, with Bayern Munich above them. Despite not losing any games so far, Bayern's form kept them at the top. Luka mused on the challenge ahead - you had to be extraordinary to win the Bundesliga so many times in a row.

But it wasn't just the Leverkusen game on his mind. Their first Champions League match against Besiktas was looming. Just thinking about hearing the anthem in person sent thrills through Luka's body. Though that this was the season where Dortmund had been knocked out to the Europa League, only to be immediately eliminated by Rangers, there was no way he would allow that to happen.

As he jogged onto the training pitch, Luka's mind raced, analyzing the team's weaknesses. The defense was struggling, that much was clear. But it was more than that - their midfield transitions weren't smooth either. He often found himself having to drop deep to get the ball, which he only really noticed because of his experience with Croatia where he could stay wide and high, receiving the ball in dangerous positions.

"I have a lot to learn about tactics," Luka muttered to himself as he began his warm-up routine. He started mentally listing his current weaknesses: physicality, defense, and game intelligence. Sure, he had great vision and could read the game well in terms of anticipation, but when it came to understanding tactical plays within a system, he knew he was lacking.

Luka could see plays before they happened and orchestrate attacks, but that was in offensive situations. Reading the game defensively - knowing when to press or track back - was still a challenge. He had barely contributed to defense in any game he'd played so far.

"But my attacking quality makes up for that, right?" he thought, deep down, though, he knew that at the highest level, being one-dimensional wasn't enough.

As training continued, Luka made a conscious effort to play simpler, resisting the urge to showcase his dribbling skills at every opportunity. It was harder than he expected, like trying to ignore an itch he desperately wanted to scratch. Every time he received the ball, his instincts screamed at him to take on his opponent, to dance past them.

But he forced himself to resist, focusing instead on quick, simple passes and intelligent movement off the ball. He watched his teammates intently, trying to absorb their positioning and decision-making. Hummels' defensive positioning, Reus' clever runs, Jude's work rate in midfield - Luka observed it all.

There were moments of frustration. More than once, Luka lost possession attempting a simple pass when his usual instinct would have been to dribble past his marker. Each time, he felt a pang of embarrassment, acutely aware of his teammates' and coaches' eyes on him.

"Keep it up, Luka," Marco Rose called out after one such instance. "Learning to play simple is just as important as those flashy skills of yours."

The encouragement helped, but Luka couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding himself back. It was like trying to run with weights on his ankles - necessary for building strength, perhaps, but undeniably uncomfortable.

As the training session wound down, Luka felt mentally exhausted. The constant battle against his instincts had taken its toll.

<>

In a spacious conference room within the heart of the Signal Iduna Park, a group of men sat around a long table. Hans-Joachim Watzke, the club's CEO, sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled as he listened intently to the ongoing discussion.

Michael Zorc, the sporting director, leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "Gentlemen, we need to address the Zorić situation. The boy is a phenomenon, there's no doubt about that. But we're in a precarious position."

Marco Rose nodded in agreement. "His performances have been nothing short of extraordinary. The skill, the vision - it's like watching a young Neymar out there. But with great talent comes great attention."

Sebastian Kehl, the head of the licensed player division, cleared his throat. "That's putting it mildly. Every top club in Europe has their eyes on him now. And with that ridiculously low buyout clause..."

"Two million euros," Watzke muttered, shaking his head. "How on earth did Manchester United agree to such a clause?"

Zorc shrugged. "They clearly didn't anticipate his rapid development. But that's not our only problem. We're dealing with Jorge Mendes here."

A collective groan went around the table at the mention of the super-agent's name.

"Mendes is already making noises about a new contract," Kehl continued. "He knows we're in a weak position. If we don't agree to his terms, we risk losing Luka for free when his loan ends."

Rose leaned back in his chair, his face a mask of concern. "And let's not forget, it's not just about money for Mendes. He'll be looking at the bigger picture - which club can offer Luka the best platform for stardom."

"Can we match what the likes of Real Madrid or Manchester City might offer?" asked one of the assistant coaches.

Watzke's expression hardened. "We're Borussia Dortmund. We can't compete financially with clubs like that, and we shouldn't try. Our strength lies in development, in giving young players a chance to shine."

"But will that be enough?" Zorc wondered aloud. "Luka's already shining brighter than anyone could have anticipated."

The room fell silent for a moment, each man lost in thought. It was Kehl who finally broke the silence.

"We need to sell him on our vision," he said firmly. "Yes, Madrid or PSG or any other superclub, might offer more money, more immediate glamour. But we can offer him something they can't - a clear path to becoming the focal point of a top team."

Rose nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. At those clubs, he'd be just another star in a galaxy of them. Here, he could be the sun around which everything revolves."

"It's not just about playing time," Zorc added. "It's about his development as a complete player. We've all seen his attacking brilliance, but there are still rough edges to his game. We can provide the environment for him to smooth those out, to become not just a great attacker, but a great footballer."

Watzke listened to all this, his expression thoughtful. "These are all good points," he said slowly. "But will they be enough to convince a 17-year-old with the world at his feet? And more importantly, will they be enough to convince Jorge Mendes?"

The room fell silent again, the weight of the challenge ahead palpable.

"We need to involve the players," Rose suggested after a moment. "Reus, Hummels, Haaland if he's still with us, he and Bellingham are friends as well- they can help sell Luka on the Dortmund experience. Show him what it means to be part of this club, this family."

Kehl nodded. "And we need to start laying the groundwork now. Not just with Luka, but with Mendes too. We need to make it clear that we're prepared to make Luka a cornerstone of our project going forward."

"What about his family?" Zorc asked. "From what I understand, they're quite involved in his career. If we can win them over..."

"Good thinking," Watzke agreed. "We should arrange for them to visit, give them a taste of life in Dortmund. Show them that this isn't just a good move for Luka's career, but for his life off the pitch too."

<>

Luka was resting on his couch when a sharp knock at the door interrupted his downtime. To his surprise, Jorge Mendes stood in the hallway.

"Jorge? You're in Germany?" Luka asked, his eyes widening.

Mendes stepped inside with a smile. "I'm all over, Luka. It's part of the job."

As they settled in the living room, Mendes got straight to business. "I'm here because of some sponsorship opportunities. Your performances have caught attention."

He laid out a few documents on the coffee table. "First, we have Sprite. They're offering a short-term deal, about 6 months. The numbers are quite good for a player your age - around €100,000."

Luka's jaw dropped. "Wow, that's... that's more money than I've ever seen."

Mendes continued, "There's also a company called GreenLeaf. They're a plant nursery and gardening supply company. Smaller deal, about €20,000 for 3 months, but I thought you might like it given your interest in plants."

Luka leaned forward, his eyes scanning the documents quickly. "This is incredible. When can I sign these?"

"Hold on, young man," Mendes chuckled. "These are just initial offers. Short-term deals to test the waters. If things go well, we can negotiate longer, more lucrative contracts in the future."

"Right, right," Luka nodded eagerly. "So what do I need to do? How quickly can we make this happen?"

Mendes held up a hand, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not so fast, Luka. There's more we need to discuss. Let's talk about boots."

Luka's excitement dimmed slightly, replaced by curiosity. "Boots?"

"Yes, boots," Mendes confirmed. "Nike and Adidas have both expressed interest. These would be much larger contracts than the sponsorships we just discussed. We're talking potential multi-year deals, significant money."

Luka's eyes widened, but he still felt a twinge of uncertainty. "That sounds... big. Really big. But like I said, I'm not sure I'm ready for something like that."

Mendes nodded, his expression understanding. "It is a big commitment. And you're right to be cautious. Remember, if you sign with one, you're effectively closing the door on working with others. It's not a decision to be made lightly."

Luka ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. "Yeah, I... I think I need more time to think about that. It's exciting, but also kind of scary, you know?"

"Perfectly understandable," Mendes assured him. "There's no rush on this. We can revisit it when you feel more comfortable."

Luka nodded, grateful for his agent's patience. But Mendes wasn't done yet.

"Now, there's another matter we need to discuss," he said, his tone becoming more serious. "Clubs."

Luka's brow furrowed in confusion. "Clubs? But I'm with Dortmund. On loan, sure, but still..."

Mendes leaned forward, his eyes intent. "Yes, you're with Dortmund now. And they've expressed a strong desire to sign you permanently. But you need to know that they're not the only ones interested. Manchester United wants to speak with you," Mendes explained. "They're reconsidering their decision to let you go on loan. And to be completely honest with you, Luka, my phone hasn't stopped ringing since your performances for Croatia. Every major club in Europe is inquiring about you."

Luka's jaw dropped. He tried to speak, but words failed him. Every major club in Europe?

Mendes continued, seemingly oblivious to Luka's shock. "Real Madrid, Barcelona, Bayern Munich, PSG, Liverpool... they're all interested. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Luka finally found his voice, though it came out as little more than a whisper. "I... I don't even know how to process that. What am I supposed to do?"

Mendes placed a reassuring hand on Luka's shoulder. "For now? Nothing. You focus on your game, on continuing to improve and perform. Let me handle the clubs."

Luka nodded, still feeling overwhelmed. "But how do we even start to make a decision like that? There are so many factors to consider."

"We'll start by filtering out the clubs that aren't a good fit," Mendes explained. "We'll look at playing style, the manager, the squad composition, your potential role. We'll consider the league, the city, the culture. It's a complex decision, but we'll break it down step by step."

Luka took a deep breath, trying to center himself. "Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. Can we... can we talk about this more later? It's a lot to take in all at once."

Mendes smiled, patting Luka's shoulder. "Of course. There's no rush, Luka. These clubs aren't going anywhere. Take your time, focus on your football. We'll revisit this when you're ready."

Sponsorship deals, boot contracts, interest from the biggest clubs in the world... it was more than he had ever dreamed of. Part of him was exhilarated, eager to dive into this new world of opportunities. But another part was terrified, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the decisions that lay ahead.

"One last thing, Luka," Mendes said as he reached the door. "Remember, all of this interest, all of these opportunities? They're a result of your talent and hard work. You've earned this. Never forget that."

With those words, Mendes left, leaving Luka alone with his thoughts. He collapsed back onto his couch, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with possibilities. Sprite commercials, custom Nike boots, the Santiago Bernabéu, Old Trafford, the Allianz Arena...