(Damn, Vol. 1 ended. FYI, Vol 2 and 3 are short volumes and will be over in approx 30 chapters)
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London Heathrow Airport.
Oliver pushed a luggage cart, mixed in with the crowd of newly arrived passengers, a hint of fatigue from the long flight on his face, but more so, the anticipation of seeing his parents and an indescribable excitement. At eighteen years old, he had just lifted the Bundesliga championship silver plate in Germany and was about to embark on a new chapter in his professional career.
"Son! Over here!" A familiar voice cut through the noise.
He looked in the direction of the voice, only to see his parents waving vigorously at him at the exit. His father was wearing a well-pressed casual suit, looking very energetic. His mother, on the other hand, had an undisguised look of joy and tenderness, and quickly walked over to greet him.
"Dad! Mom!" Oliver jogged over with the cart, not minding the clang as the luggage cart hit the barrier.
He first hugged his mother tightly, feeling that familiar warmth with a faint smell of cooking oil, then gave his father a strong hug.
Jules' hand patted his back twice heavily.
"You've worked hard, Ollie," Shuwen cupped her son's face, examining him carefully in the light, her eyes a little red, "Playing football is tough, but you've also grown into an adult."
"It's not tough, Mom," Oliver grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth, "Have you been waiting long?"
"Not long at all, we came from the hotel as soon as we got your call, only about half an hour," Jules took the luggage cart, his movements agile.
"Let's go, the car's outside, we'll go back to the hotel first to settle in, are you hungry? I can make you something to eat later?"
"I ate on the plane, it was alright," Oliver walked beside his parents, feeling the solid London ground beneath his feet, and his heart also settled down.
This was no longer a temporary stop, but the place where he was about to put down roots and strive. The car drove into the London night. Outside the window, the city's silhouette undulated in the lights, distinctly different from the tranquility of Stuttgart and Sinsheim, exuding the unique bustling pulse of a metropolis. Oliver leaned back in his seat, watching the fleeting neon lights outside the window, his thoughts drifting.
Wembley, Emirates Stadium...
These landmarks, which he used to only see on television, would soon become a part of his life.
"What are you thinking about?" His father looked at him through the rearview mirror.
"Nothing," Oliver snapped back to reality, "Just feel like it's finally happening."
"Yes, it hasn't been easy," Jules' voice was filled with emotion, "From the Birmingham youth academy, to Paris Saint-Germain, and then to Hoffenheim, fighting your way through, Ollie, you've really made us proud."
"It's mainly because you supported me," Oliver said sincerely.
He knew how much his parents had sacrificed for him, especially when he was eliminated from the Paris Saint-Germain youth academy, at the lowest point of his life, it was his parents' unconditional trust and encouragement that supported him through it. The car stopped at the entrance of a business hotel, and with the help of a bellboy, the family went upstairs to their room. The room was spacious and tidy, with fruits and several bottles of mineral water that his mother had prepared in advance on the coffee table.
"Come, sit, have some water," Shuwen greeted them.
The family of three sat down on the sofa. Even though it was a hotel, as long as the family was together, it was home.
"Dad, Mom," Oliver turned to look at his parents, "This time, I feel like you're... a little different?"
He vaguely felt that his father seemed less busy like a businessman, and his mother appeared more at ease. His parents exchanged glances and smiled.
"You're quite observant, kid," Jules lit a cigarette and took a puff, "Yes, there have been some changes at home, and it's time we talked to you about it properly."
He slowly exhaled a smoke ring: "My foreign trade company officially closed last month."
Oliver was stunned: "Closed? Dad, wasn't that your..."
"It's what I built from scratch, that's right," Jules waved his hand, interrupting his son's surprise, "But now, son, your football career is the most important priority. Before, when you hadn't made a name for yourself, I could barely manage to be your part-time agent, but it's different now, you've made it, you've become a star, your future is limitless. The burden of being your agent is getting heavier, requiring more professionalism, and there are more and more trivial matters, so, your dad here needs to go all in."
He gently flicked the ash into the ashtray: "Therefore, I've closed my company and plan to dedicate all my time and energy to you. From now on, I'll be your full-time agent, and will be licensed and operate more professionally."
A warmth and sense of responsibility welled up in Oliver's heart: "Dad, actually, you don't have to..."
"There's no 'don't have to,'" Shuwen interjected, her tone gentle yet firm, "Jules is right, now that you've come this far, as your parents, we need to pave a smoother path for you. Not just him, my small restaurant in Birmingham, I've sublet that out too."
"Ah? Mom, our restaurant..." Oliver was even more surprised. He knew how much his mother cherished that small restaurant, which was the culmination of many years of hard work.
"It is a bit hard to let go," Shuwen admitted frankly, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes, but more so, anticipation for the future, "But your career is more important, London is a big city, and there are more opportunities. He and I have discussed it, once you're settled here at Arsenal, we'll look for a suitable place in London to open a new one. Maybe a bit larger, maybe with more dishes, and it'll be close to you, convenient for taking care of you."
Oliver looked at his parents, momentarily at a loss for words. His parents had sacrificed their long-standing businesses just to better support him in pursuing his dreams. He had to admit, he was truly touched.
"Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom." A thousand words condensed into a simple thank you, but the emotions within were understood by his parents.
"This kid" Jules extinguished his cigarette, his expression becoming serious and professional, "Speaking of career, son, the matters surrounding you are indeed becoming more and more complex, for example, endorsements."
He leaned forward slightly and said: "Lately, I've been receiving endorsement invitations from big brands like snowflakes – sports brands, fashion brands, cars, electronics... The terms offered are very enticing. But," he emphasized, "The negotiation of these contracts, clause review, subsequent performance monitoring, image maintenance, and potential disputes, I absolutely cannot handle all of it alone, even with your mom's help. We are not professionals in this field; our energy, knowledge, and connections are limited."
Oliver nodded, he understood his father's meaning. The commercial value development of a top player is a vast and professional system.
"So," Jules continued, "I've started to build a professional agent team for you, with myself at its core."
"A team?" Oliver became interested.
"Yes," Jules counted on his fingers, "First, legal support is paramount. The rules of the Premier League, the pitfalls of player contracts, the legal clauses of commercial endorsements – it's a deep water. Through an old client from my former foreign trade company, who is a minor shareholder of Brentford FC, I found a senior sports lawyer named Simon Evans through his introduction. This person is not simple; he's been in the sports law field for over a decade and knows all the Premier League rules inside out. He has handled many player contract disputes, with numerous successful cases in both the Championship and Premier League. With him overseeing the contracts, your mom and I can rest assured."
"Then, there's brand endorsement and commercial development," Jules continued to introduce, "In the past few weeks, my inbox has been almost overflowing with various endorsement invitations, but I'm very clear that we can't just look at the money. Endorsements relate to your image and long-term development, so we must carefully screen and negotiate. Therefore, through the sports lawyer's introduction, I hired Mark Nash as the Brand Marketing Manager. He used to be a professional manager at a top sports marketing company, with rich negotiation experience and a good understanding of player brand positioning. With him specifically in charge of screening and negotiating these commercial contracts, we can ensure your interests are maximized and also prevent you from being over-commercialized."
"And then there's public relations," Jules paused, "This part is very important. The media environment you'll face in the future will be more complex, and you'll need someone to help you shape and maintain your public image and handle sudden public opinion crises. Through a professional headhunting agency, I identified a personal exclusive Public Relations Manager named Edwardo Wilson, in his forties, with very extensive experience. He was responsible for the public relations affairs of football stars and celebrities at a top PR firm, and now he's willing to provide exclusive personal service. He doesn't talk much, but he's steady and reliable in his work."
Oliver listened as his father introduced the team members like a proud collector, his heart filled with surprise and admiration. Although his father was not previously involved in the sports industry, for his sake, in such a short time, he had so efficiently built a professional support network covering legal, commercial, and public relations aspects.
"Tsk tsk... Dad, you're truly amazing," Oliver said sincerely, "I didn't expect you to have arranged everything so thoroughly."
Jules smiled, his smile containing a father's pride and a professional agent's confidence:
"Although I started halfway, since I am gonna do it, I can't hold you back. These people are all hand-picked. I have both interacted with them; their professional abilities are not an issue, and I've also learned about their character both directly and indirectly. In the future, this team will work closely with you to ensure that all your off-field matters proceed smoothly and without obstacles. You just need to focus on playing football."
He changed the topic, "Speaking of playing football, the most urgent matter at hand is the signing with Arsenal."
Oliver immediately sat up straight; this was the core purpose of his trip.
"Arsenal's sporting director, Raúl, has been communicating with me very frequently recently," Jules said.
"Professor Wenger has also personally expressed his Pay attention to of you. Their desire is very strong, and they hope to finalize the contract as soon as possible so that you can integrate into the team before the start of the new League. Tomorrow morning, we will go to the club headquarters to officially begin negotiations."
He looked into his son's eyes: "Son, before we go, I need to ask you. This is your own professional career, and it's also the first truly significant contract of your life. Regarding core terms like salary, signing fee, bonuses, and image rights, what are your thoughts on them? Or, what are your expectations? Your father needs to hear your bottom line and ideas first, so I can negotiate with them, ensure your interests are protected, and strive for the best possible terms."
The room fell silent.
The lights of London outside the window cast shifting shadows on the faces of the father and son duo. Oliver was silent for a few seconds. This was not a question that could be answered casually. He recalled every detail of his time at Hoffenheim, from the low point of being eliminated by Paris Saint-Germain to the trust he received from Nagelsmann, and fighting alongside his teammates to win the Bundesliga title and reach the Champions League semifinals.
He remembered that in-depth and pleasant conversation with Professor Wenger; the professor's understanding of football and his philosophy of nurturing young players deeply moved him. He chose Arsenal not just out of sentiment, but because he believed that under Wenger, at Emirates Stadium, he could grow better and achieve even greater dreams.
A dream named 'Champions'. He looked up, his gaze firm:
"Father, I've thought it through very clearly. First, money is important, but it's not what I value most right now. I'm only 18 years old; my professional career has just begun. I chose Arsenal because of Professor Wenger, because I feel that it can help me continue to improve and achieve bigger goals, such as the Champions League title."
His tone was calm, yet it carried an undeniable power, "This is what I crave most at this stage of my career: a truly significant championship trophy. I don't want to repeat the mistake of being eliminated in the Champions League semifinals."
Jules and Shuwen both listened intently to their son, without interrupting.
"So," Oliver continued, "Regarding salary, I am willing to make some appropriate concessions to allow the club to have more sufficient funds to strengthen the squad. I know that with my current performance in the Bundesliga and Champions League, and my potential for the future, many top clubs would offer me very high weekly wages, possibly far more than 200,000 or 300,000 pounds."
He paused, then clearly stated his bottom line:
"My psychological bottom line is a weekly wage of 150,000 pounds. Father, this is the bottom line. Below this, I feel it's not very acceptable, as this is also a recognition of my ability. But I also clearly tell you that my expectation won't be set far above this figure. For example, if they offer 170,000 or 200,000, I would naturally be happy, but if it exceeds too much, it might… potentially eat into the team's transfer budget. I hope to leave room for the club to strengthen its squad through transfers. Professor Wenger also promised us before that he would reinforce the team."
A weekly wage of 150,000 pounds is an astronomical figure for ordinary people.
But in top-tier football, for a rising superstar, especially in a money-driven League like the Premier League, it can indeed be considered quite restrained, even a "pay cut." It's worth noting that many players whose abilities are far inferior to Oliver's might have weekly wages close to or exceeding this amount.
Oliver then explained:
"The signing fee is the same; it's a very large sum of money, I know. But I am willing to take a little less, but the part I take less of is not taken less for nothing. If possible, I hope the club can directly convert it into this summer's transfer budget to buy stronger players. Father, you can propose this idea to Director Raúl and the Professor. A championship is more important than a large signing fee right now."
"As for image rights," Oliver looked at his father, his eyes full of trust, "this part is entirely up to you to handle. I believe you and your team can balance commercial development and personal image well; fight for what should be fought for, and concede what should be conceded. You manage it for me, and I'm at ease."
After Oliver finished speaking, he looked at his parents. Jules took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. He looked at his son's young face, his heart filled with mixed emotions. There was pride, relief, and a touch of heartache. His son wasn't ignorant of the value of money; rather, he placed higher goals before money. This kind of perspective and mindset is especially precious in the restless world of football.
He reached out and patted his son's shoulder firmly: "Good! I understand."
"Your overall thinking, your father believes is correct!" Jules said with certainty,
"When you are young, laying a solid foundation, winning honors, and building your reputation are more important than anything else. With championships and status, large sums of money will naturally flow in continuously. Your idea of first making the 'cake' bigger and then dividing the 'cake' is a long-term vision."
"However," Jules changed his tone, his eyes becoming sharp and shrewd, which was the confidence stemming from his dual identity as a businessman and a father,
"Understanding your ideas doesn't mean I will foolishly accept everything at the negotiation table. The rights that should be fought for, and the guarantees that should be obtained, cannot be less by a single bit."
"150,000 pounds weekly wage is the bottom line, that's fine. But since this is your 'bottom line,' I will do his best to negotiate a higher amount for you. This is a reflection of your value, and also a negotiation tactic. At the same time, bonus clauses will be very important, including goal bonuses, assist bonuses, appearance bonuses, and team performance bonuses. These must be set clearly, competitively, and easily achievable. This can both motivate you and ensure your total income level, given a relatively restrained 'fixed salary'."
"Your willingness to take a smaller portion of the signing fee and leave it for the club as transfer funds is a very good idea, very considerate of the bigger picture. I will cleverly convey this meaning. But how to execute it is a technical skill; it needs to make the club feel your sincerity and sacrifice, and also ensure that this money is indeed used effectively, and not turned into someone else's signing fee. At the same time, we must also ensure that the remaining portion of the signing fee is received in full and on time. This is what you deserve; it is the realization of the value of your past efforts."
"You've entrusted the image rights to me, rest assured." Jules showed a smile of complete control, "We will plan carefully, both to protect your personal image and to maximize its commercial value. We won't sell it cheaply, nor will we over-develop it. Wenger and Arsenal have always paid more attention to the team's image, so we will have common ground in this regard."
"In short," Jules concluded,
"For tomorrow's negotiations, I have a clear idea. While understanding and supporting your core demands to ensure the team's competitiveness for the championship, I will also try to secure a generous contract for you, within the bounds of rules and ethics, one that matches your strength and potential and allows you to play with peace of mind. We will try to make Arsenal feel that signing you is a good thing, and also make you feel that your efforts and choices have received the respect and return they deserve. Neither you nor the club will be at a disadvantage; that is the basis for long-term cooperation."
Upon hearing his father's words, Oliver was completely relieved. Jules fully understood his intentions and possessed enough ability and wisdom to realize them, finding the optimal balance between ideals and reality.
"Alright, dad, I'll leave it to you!" Oliver nodded vigorously, a relaxed smile appearing on his face.
"Alright, alright," Shuwen said, smiling as she stood up, "Is the serious business done? You still have negotiations tomorrow, and Ollie is tired after a day of flying. I'll go make some simple supper for you two; eat and then rest early."
"Thank you, Mom!" Oliver also stood up, stretching with a big yawn. The fatigue in his body seemed to be diluted by his anticipation for the future. Late at night, the lights of London flowed outside the hotel window like a brilliant river of stars. Oliver stood by the window, looking at this ancient yet vibrant city. Tomorrow, he will walk into the building behind Emirates Stadium and sign a contract that carries his dreams.
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