Chapter 22: The Portuguese Connection
The week after Rotherham brought something Leo hadn't expected: phone calls. Lots of them.
His mum had started keeping a list by the landline. "Some Italian man called. Wouldn't leave a name. Someone from Spain. A very angry Scottish man who said you need 'proper representation.'" She'd look at Leo with a mixture of pride and confusion. "What's happening, love?"
"People want to be my agent," Leo said.
"You're seventeen."
"I know."
The system had been tracking it all week.
[Agent Interest: High. Registered Inquiries: 14.]
[Notable Names: Pini Zahavi, Jerome Anderson, SFX Sports Group.]
[Recommendation: Professional representation advised before summer transfer window.]
Leo had ignored most of them. He didn't know anything about agents. The ones who'd called sounded like used car salesmen. Fast talk. Big promises. "We'll make you a millionaire by twenty." "You need to leave Southampton now." "I can get you to Real Madrid."
None of them asked about football. None of them asked what he wanted.
---
Wednesday, 23rd January 2002.
Training had finished early. Leo was sitting in the players' lounge, ice pack on his knee, watching Sky Sports News. The transfer window was open. Rumours swirled. "Manchester United preparing summer bid for Southampton wonderkid." "Arsenal join race for Carter." "Real Madrid monitoring teenage sensation."
The system flickered.
[Media Narrative: "Transfer Saga Begins."]
[Fan Sentiment: Southampton fans - "Please stay one more season." Neutral fans - "He needs a bigger club."]
Leo switched it off. He was tired of hearing his own name.
A knock at the door. One of the club secretaries poked her head in. "Leo? Someone here to see you. Says he's an agent. Jorge Mendes."
Leo frowned. "Never heard of him."
"Says he flew in from Portugal this morning. Very polite. Very... persistent."
Leo sighed. "Fine. Five minutes."
---
The man who walked in wasn't what Leo expected.
Jorge Mendes was in his mid-thirties, dark hair slicked back, wearing a simple black coat and carrying a leather satchel that had seen better days. He wasn't flashy. No designer watch. No entourage. Just a man with sharp eyes and a calm demeanour.
He'd been a failed footballer himself, once. A nightclub owner. A video shop manager. He'd stumbled into agent work in 1996 when a goalkeeper named Nuno asked him to help negotiate a move. He'd torn up the cheque Nuno offered him. "I'll never cash it," he'd said. That story, that principle, had built his reputation.
"Leo Carter," Mendes said, his English accented but clear. "Thank you for seeing me."
"You flew from Portugal?"
"I did."
"Why?"
Mendes smiled. "Because you're the most exciting young player in Europe, and no one else seems to be asking you the right questions."
Leo gestured to the chair opposite. Mendes sat, placing his satchel on the table. He didn't pull out contracts or brochures. He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Can I tell you what I see?" Mendes asked.
"Go on."
"I see a seventeen-year-old who plays like he's been doing this for twenty years. I see a boy who reads the game like a veteran. I see goals, assists, intelligence." He paused. "And I see every big club in Europe circling, promising you the world. But none of them care about what you want. They care about what you can do for them."
Leo said nothing.
"I'm not going to tell you I can make you a millionaire. You already know that's coming. I'm not going to tell you I can get you to Real Madrid or Manchester United. You can get there yourself." Mendes leaned back. "What I can do is make sure that when you get there, it's on your terms. The right club. The right project. The right people around you."
"And what do you get out of it?"
Mendes smiled again. "Commission. Obviously. I'm not a charity." He grew serious. "But I only take clients I believe in. Not because they'll make me rich. Because they have something special. Cristiano Ronaldo has it. I met him last year, through his mother. He's seventeen, like you. He's going to be one of the greatest. I believe that."
Leo's eyes widened slightly. Cristiano Ronaldo. The name meant nothing to most people in 2002. But Leo knew. He knew.
"And you think I have it too?"
"I know you do." Mendes reached into his satchel and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Not a contract. A list. "These are the clubs that have called me about you in the last month. Unofficially, of course. Tapping up is illegal."
Leo took the list. His breath caught.
Manchester United. Arsenal. Liverpool. Real Madrid. Barcelona. Juventus. Bayern Munich. Inter Milan. AC Milan.
"They all want you," Mendes said. "But they want you for different reasons. United see you as the next Beckham. Madrid see you as a Galáctico. Barcelona see you as a project." He tapped the list. "Who do you want to be?"
Leo stared at the names. The biggest clubs in the world. All wanting him.
"I don't know yet," he admitted.
"That's okay. You're seventeen. You shouldn't know." Mendes took the list back. "But when you do know, you need someone who will fight for that vision. Not just take the biggest offer. Someone who will tell you the truth, even when it's hard."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Simple. White. Black text. Jorge Mendes. Gestifute. A phone number. An email.
"I don't want an answer today. I don't want an answer next week. Think about it. Talk to your mother. Talk to people you trust." He stood. "But when you're ready, call me. Not because I'll make you rich. Because I'll make sure you become the player you're supposed to be."
Leo stood too. He looked at the card, then at Mendes.
"Why me? Really."
Mendes paused at the door. "Because I watched you play against West Ham. They kicked you for ninety minutes. Three red cards. And you got up every single time and scored a hat-trick. That's not talent. That's character. Talent gets you noticed. Character makes you a legend."
He smiled once more. "I only work with legends."
And then he was gone.
Leo sat back down, the card in his hand. The system flickered.
[Agent Evaluation: Jorge Mendes.]
[Profile: Portuguese. Founded Gestifute 1996. Early career, building reputation. Known for personal approach, client loyalty.]
[Notable Clients: Cristiano Ronaldo (Sporting CP), Nuno (Deportivo), Hugo Viana (Newcastle).]
[Reputation: Rising. Honest. Not yet a "super-agent" but on trajectory.]
[Recommendation: Strong match. Values align. Not purely financial. Cares about career development.]
[Charm Not Applicable. Relationship Must Be Built Naturally.]
Leo smiled. Another person the system couldn't manipulate. Another relationship he had to build on his own.
He tucked the card into his pocket.
---
Saturday, 30th January 2002. St Mary's Stadium.
Leicester City. Premier League. A team fighting relegation, scrapping for every point. Dangerous because they had nothing to lose.
Leo arrived at the stadium with Mendes's card still in his pocket. He hadn't called yet. But he'd been thinking about it.
The changing room was focused. Gray had named a strong side. The FA Cup win had lifted spirits, but the league was the bread and butter. They needed points.
Leicester City (4-4-2):
Ian Walker (GK) - 78
Frank Sinclair (RB) - 74
Matt Elliott (CB) - 80
Gary Rowett (CB) - 76
Callum Davidson (LB) - 73
Muzzy Izzet (RM) - 84
Robbie Savage (CM) - 82
Lee Marshall (CM) - 74
Stefan Oakes (LM) - 75
James Scowcroft (ST) - 78
Ade Akinbiyi (ST) - 76
Savage. Eighty-two. The Welsh terrier, all energy and aggression. Izzet, the creative spark. A team that would fight and scrap and make life difficult.
Southampton's lineup appeared.
Southampton (4-4-2):
Paul Jones (GK) - 71
Jason Dodd (RB) - 73
Claus Lundekvam (CB) - 74
Dean Richards (CB) - 76
Wayne Bridge (LB) - 76
Leo Carter (RM) - 99
Anders Svensson (CM) - 75
Matthew Oakley (CM) - 74
Chris Marsden (LM) - 72
James Beattie (ST) - 77
Kevin Davies (ST) - 74
Gray stood at the front. "Leicester are desperate. They'll fight for every ball, every header, every loose ball. Don't match their desperation. Rise above it. Play our game, and we win."
He looked at Leo. "Savage will try to get in your head. Don't let him."
Leo nodded.
The teams walked out. The tunnel was narrow, the walls red, the light blinding. Leo stepped onto the pitch and the home noise wrapped around him. The Northam Stand was bouncing.
"He's one of our own, he's one of our own, Leo Carter, he's one of our own!"
The whistle blew.
---
The first foul came in the third minute.
Leo received a pass from Oakley, turned, and Savage was there. Not a tackle. A hand on the shoulder, a slight push, just enough to send Leo off balance. The ball ran loose.
The referee waved play on.
"Welcome to the Premier League, pretty boy," Savage muttered as he jogged past.
Leo got up, dusted himself off. The system pulsed.
[Tactical Foul Detected. Opponent: Robbie Savage. Aggression Level: High.]
He didn't use charm. Not yet. He wanted to see how Savage played.
In the eighth minute, Leo had his first chance.
Svensson won the ball and played it wide. Davidson backed off, giving Leo space.
[Space Identified. Single Coverage.]
[Acceleration (Level 4) Activated.]
Leo pushed the ball past Davidson and ran. The left-back lunged, missed, and Leo was in the channel. He looked up. Beattie was making a run.
[Crossing Opportunity: 68%. Recommended: Low driven cross.]
He hit it. Hard and low. The ball flashed through the six-yard box. Beattie lunged, got a toe, and the ball flew toward the near post. Walker got down well and held on.
The home crowd groaned, then applauded.
[Assist Opportunity Created. Match Rating: 6.8.]
---
Savage was relentless. Every time Leo got the ball, the Welshman was there. A nudge here. A word there. "You're not so special." "Overrated." "All hype." Constant. Annoying. Effective.
In the nineteenth minute, Leo decided to use charm.
Savage clipped his heels—a sly trip, just enough to send Leo tumbling. The referee waved play on.
[Charm Available: 6,750 Points. Use Charm on Referee? Cost: 50 Points.]
He confirmed. The referee stopped play and ran back.
"Foul! Number eight, Leicester!"
Savage's face was a picture of outrage. "I never touched him! He dived!"
The referee pulled out a yellow card.
The home crowd cheered ironically. The away fans booed.
Savage glared at Leo. "You're a cheat, you know that?"
Leo said nothing. He just got up and took the free-kick.
[Charm Effect: Successful. Yellow Card Issued.]
[Charm Points: 6,700 Remaining.]
---
In the twenty-sixth minute, Southampton scored.
A throw-in deep in Leicester's half. Dodd launched it long. Davies flicked it on. Beattie chested it down and laid it off to Marsden on the left.
Marsden looked up and saw Leo making a run.
[Vision (Level 3) Activated. Through Ball Opportunity.]
Marsden played the pass. Leo was off.
[Acceleration (Level 4) Activated.]
[Magic Touch (Level 5) Activated.]
He took it in stride, cut inside Elliott, and looked up. Beattie was making a run to the near post.
[Crossing Opportunity: 74%. Recommended: Low driven cross.]
He hit it. The ball flashed across the six-yard box. Beattie lunged, got a toe, and poked it past Walker.
The net bulged.
St Mary's erupted.
"Beattie! Beattie! He scores when he wants!"
[Assist Registered. Match Rating: 6.8 -> 7.6.]
Southampton 1, Leicester City 0.
---
The goal settled Southampton. Leicester tried to respond, but they were limited. Savage ran and harried, Izzet tried to create, but the quality gap was clear.
In the thirty-eighth minute, Leo scored.
A one-two with Svensson on the edge of the box. Leo received the return pass, dropped a shoulder, and left Rowett stumbling.
[Driving Run (Level 4) Activated.]
[Curled Finish (Level 5) Activated.]
He opened his body and curled the ball toward the far corner. Walker dove, fingertips grazing, but the ball kissed the post and nestled in.
The net bulged.
St Mary's lost its mind.
Leo ran toward the corner flag, sliding on his knees. His teammates mobbed him.
"He's one of our own! He's one of our own! Leo Carter! He's one of our own!"
[Goal Scored. Match Rating: 7.6 -> 8.9.]
Southampton 2, Leicester City 0.
---
Half-time came. The players walked off to a standing ovation.
In the changing room, Gray was calm. "Good half. But don't get sloppy. Savage will come out fighting. He's on a yellow—he'll be careful. Use that."
---
The second half was a formality. Leicester tried, but Southampton were too good. In the sixty-first minute, Leo scored his second.
A corner from Svensson. Leo rose, Power Header activated, and thundered it past Walker.
[Goal Scored. Match Rating: 8.9 -> 9.5.]
Southampton 3, Leicester City 0.
The hat-trick came in the seventy-fourth minute.
A long ball from Bridge. Beattie flicked it on. Leo was off, running into the channel.
[Acceleration (Level 4) Activated.]
[Curled Finish (Level 5) Activated.]
He cut inside Elliott and curled a shot into the far corner. Walker didn't even move.
[Goal Scored. Match Rating: 9.5 -> 9.8.]
Southampton 4, Leicester City 0.
---
The final whistle blew.
Southampton 4, Leicester City 0. Another win. Another hat-trick.
The Leicester players trudged off. Savage walked past Leo and stopped.
"You're good," he said, almost grudgingly. "Really good. But you're still a diver." He offered a hand. "Respect, though."
Leo shook it. "Respect."
The system pinged.
[Match Complete. Southampton 4 - 0 Leicester City.]
[Barclaycard Premiership: 3 Points.]
[Match Rating: 9.8 (Man of the Match).]
[Charm Points Earned: 400. Total: 7,100.]
[Skill Tokens Earned: 2. Total Available: 6.]
Then the absorption.
[Talent Absorption Available. Defeated Team: Leicester City.]
[Select Talent from the following pool:]
> Muzzy Izzet (CM): [Creative Spark (Level 4)] - Exceptional creativity and through-ball vision.
> Robbie Savage (CM): [Relentless Press (Level 4)] - Exceptional stamina and pressing intensity.
> Matt Elliott (CB): [Aerial Command (Level 3)] - Improved heading and defensive organisation.
Leo selected Izzet's Creative Spark, which merged with his Vision talent.
[Talent Upgraded: Vision (Level 3 -> Level 4).]
[Effect: Exceptional through-ball vision and creativity in final third.]
[User Rating: 99 -> 99 (OVR).]
Still 99. That final point remained elusive.
---
After the Match
Leo showered, changed, and checked his phone. A text from Chloe.
"Another hat-trick. You're making my job too easy. Drink tomorrow?"
He smiled and typed back. "Sure. Your turn to buy."
"Journalist salary. You're the millionaire. You buy."
"Not a millionaire yet."
"Soon. Call your agent."
Leo laughed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Mendes's card. He stared at it for a long moment.
Then he picked up his phone and dialled.
A voice answered after two rings. Calm. Accented. "Jorge Mendes."
"Mr. Mendes? It's Leo Carter."
A pause. Then warmth. "Leo. I was hoping you'd call."
"I've been thinking about what you said. About character. About legends."
"And?"
"I think I need someone who tells the truth. Even when it's hard."
Another pause. Leo could hear the smile in Mendes's voice. "Then I think we should meet. Properly. Bring your mother. We have a lot to discuss."
"Okay."
"Leo? You made the right choice. I promise you that."
The line went dead.
Leo sat there, the phone in his hand, the system flickering.
[Agent Selected: Jorge Mendes. Gestifute.]
[Relationship Status: Professional. Trust Level: Building.]
[Note: This relationship cannot be influenced by Charm. Proceed with authenticity.]
He smiled. For the first time since waking up in 2001, he had someone in his corner who understood the business. Who would fight for him. Who saw him as more than a payday.
He was ready for whatever came next.