"What are your plans moving forward?"
"Nothing much, really. All I want for this year to be considered successful is to help our Sheffield return to the second tier. I know that is what everyone in the club is striving towards." He gave a nod to his manager, who's listening in high spirits. "We're not quite in the conversation for promotion yet, but I know the manager and the whole team will do whatever it takes to get there in the end. Be it through the playoffs, or automatic promotion, nothing is for certain yet, so we'll fight for it."
"What do you want to say to everyone watching right now?"
"Remember my name."
The press room was satisfied now. Earlier, they thought this guy was either not going to cooperate with them or was not much of a talker, but now, he's shown how much of a consummate professional he is to them after answering a barrage of questions about the game, the team, and himself. The amount of juicy material he gave was enough for them to feel full.
"Any more questions?" The league's Public Relations officer asked the crowd for the last time. Seeing the commotion had died down already, he thanked the Sheffield trio and thanked the press people before sending the trio off.
Outside, the home fans were celebrating their magnificent victory.
Among the massive crowd was the father of tonight's man of the match— Blair Atkinson. He didn't look like the hardworking academic he usually was, but instead a football crazed, Sheffield obsessed fan. He's drinking, jumping, shouting, singing, and blending in with the team's most rabid fans.
He of course wasn't a Sheffield native, nor a Sheffield fan before his son plied his trade here, but as an adaptable football fan that only wanted to enjoy the greatness of the sport, he blended in seamlessly with the rowdy lot. He prided himself for his advanced linguistic and communication abilities as a professor (and social butterfly) after all.
They were waiting for their team's players to go out and greet them as per tradition after every home game.
A few minutes later, the team was already lined up at the front. They were bowing their heads and thanking their beloved fans for their fantastic support tonight. They would be lying if they said the fan support didn't help their morale one bit in a derby match like this.
Downtown Sheffield was a sight to behold that night.
***
Next morning, the city of Manchester.
The smell of freshly cooked sunny side ups and low fat milk entered the nose of the still yawning Blaise Atkinson. His father Blair, was still busy cooking more food in the kitchen that, as Blaise's nose smelled, were wonderful to the senses.
He had to take his nutrition to the most optimal levels now, something which in his past life he only did so when he got older and as his injuries piled up. Those days of pizzas, full English breakfasts, and greasy cheeseburgers were over for his reincarnated body once he joined the first team.
He doesn't want to take his body for granted again.
He doesn't want to be out of shape, nor even a little out of shape, he only wants to offer his best performance on the pitch day in, day out.
After all, his current aim is beyond everything he's ever achieved in his past life.
So, when he saw that his father was perceptive of the change he wanted to take, Blaise can't help but feel like he's lucked out this time. Unlike his past life, he took this father of his for granted.
He doesn't want to take his father for granted this time either. He will not lose him again.
"Top of the morning Dad, what do we have here?" Blaise said after he yawned, surprising his father, who's wearing a floral apron that is clearly a few sizes too small for him.
"Oh. You're up." He continued flipping sausages in the pan, the old man seemed to be going all out on the grease. "Ah, this is not yours, it's mine. Go eat your nutritious food."
Blair laughed maniacally, earning a snort from Blaise. Of course, he isn't at all jealous of his father's breakfast. He just felt like it wasn't gonna hurt to tease his father a little in the morning.
"The berries are on the fridge, take them out too, and well, there's also some whole wheat bread beside the toaster if you like to partner it up with the jam and eggs."
"Thank you, Dad!" Blaise downed a glass of milk in one go after stuffing a piece of raspberry, blueberry, and blackberry respectively. He looked at their blender and almost got tempted to make a shake too.
"I was reading up on some stuff about footballer nutrition a few nights ago." Blair put onto the table his greasy yet delicious breakfast of eggs, sausages, bacon, mashed potatoes, and a cup of warm jasmine tea. The tea was something his beloved wife taught him to drink, after being averse to any kind of tea in his youth. "So, it made me curious… do you guys have some sort of a post match recovery food?"
"We had protein milkshakes with some mixed berries and bananas in it. Not all of us liked it of course." Blaise stated right as he chowed down on some toast.
"That's good, since we're gonna have to take a lot of consideration on what you are eating from now on, son." Blair said that like he's a good father while the corner of his mouth dripped some of the oil from his food. "Fetch me the newspaper out the door too, for a second."
Blaise was surprised that one of the two newspapers was a Sheffield local newspaper. He saw his face celebrating a goal plastered in the paper's front page, with a caption written in bold black ink that read: BLAISE ATKINSON: REMEMBER MY NAME.
His face was calm. Of course, gracing this small city newspaper's front pages wasn't that big of a deal for a man that had experienced the immeasurable highs of being at the headlines of all the world's biggest papers, magazines, online websites, and even television worldwide before.
"Heh. Small victories, aye." Alas, his mood can't help but brighten, and his fists can't help but clench at another milestone. "I'm going to work hard."
Looking up at the bright Sheffield morning sky, suddenly felt all the more refreshing for the reincarnated man.
"Blaise, don't read it there! Give it to me!"
"You won't believe this, Pops!"