Luka nervously adjusted his shirt as he stepped out of the taxi in front of "La Maison d'Or," one of Dortmund's most exclusive restaurants. He'd never been to a place this fancy before, and he felt out of his depth even before stepping inside.
As he approached the entrance, a smartly dressed maître d' greeted him. "Mr. Zorić? Mr. Mendes is waiting for you. Please, follow me."
Luka was led through the dimly lit restaurant, past tables of well-heeled diners who barely glanced up from their exquisite meals. At the far end of the room, in a secluded corner, sat Jorge Mendes.
The super-agent stood as Luka approached, offering a warm smile and a firm handshake. "Luka, it's a pleasure to meet you in person. Please, have a seat."
As Luka sat down, he couldn't help but marvel at the opulence around him. The crystal chandeliers, the plush velvet chairs, the gleaming silverware – it was a far cry from the modest restaurants he was used to.
Jorge seemed to sense his awe. "First time at La Maison d'Or?" he asked with a knowing smile.
Luka nodded, slightly embarrassed. "First time at any restaurant like this, to be honest."
Jorge chuckled. "Well, get used to it. With your talent, this will become the norm soon enough."
A waiter appeared, offering menus. Jorge waved them away. "We'll have the chef's tasting menu, with wine pairings for me. And for the young star?" He looked at Luka questioningly.
"Oh, uh, just water for me, thanks," Luka replied, acutely aware that he was still underage for drinking in Germany.
As the waiter left, Jorge leaned back in his chair. "So, Luka, how are you finding Germany? Quite different from Croatia and England, I imagine."
Luka nodded. "It's been an adjustment, but I'm enjoying it. The club has been great, and the fans... well, they've been incredible."
Jorge smiled. "Yes, I saw the reception you got after the Frankfurt game. Quite impressive for a debut."
"It's been surreal," Luka admitted. "I still can't quite believe it."
"Well, believe it," Jorge said firmly. "You've earned it. Now, tell me about your family. Are they here with you in Dortmund?"
Luka shook his head. "No, they're still in England. My parents and my younger sister. We video call every day, though."
Jorge nodded approvingly. "Family is important. It's good to stay connected. And how are you feeling physically? That was quite a physical match against Frankfurt."
Luka grimaced slightly. "I'm a bit sore, to be honest. I've been doing extra recovery work in training. The medical staff thinks I might need to be benched for the next game to fully recover."
"Smart," Jorge commented. "No need to risk injury this early in the season. Speaking of which, how do you feel about Dortmund's chances this year?"
Luka's eyes lit up. "I think we have a real shot. We're currently second in the league, behind Bayern Munich. They won their opener against Borussia Mönchengladbach, while we beat Frankfurt 4-2. RB Leipzig and Wolfsburg are just behind us, but it's early days yet."
Jorge nodded, looking impressed by Luka's knowledge of the league standings. "Indeed it is. But let's talk about you, Luka. You've made quite an impression already, and I believe you have the potential to become one of the best players in the world."
Luka felt a flush of pride at the compliment, but also a twinge of uncertainty. "That's... that's very kind of you to say, Mr. Mendes."
"Jorge, please," the agent insisted. "And it's not kindness, it's business. I don't deal in flattery, Luka. I deal in potential and results. And you have enormous potential."
The waiter returned with their first course, a delicate amuse-bouche that Luka couldn't even begin to identify. As they began to eat, Jorge continued.
"Now, let's talk about your future. You're essentially going to be a free agent after this season if you choose to be. That puts you in an incredibly strong position."
Luka nodded slowly. "I suppose so. But I haven't really thought about leaving Dortmund..."
Jorge held up a hand. "And you don't have to. But it's my job to ensure you have the best possible options. With your talent, we could be looking at offers from top clubs across Europe. Real Madrid, Barcelona, Manchester City, PSG – they'll all be interested if you continue to perform as you have been."
Luka's head was spinning. "That's... that's a lot to take in."
Jorge nodded sympathetically. "I know it is. That's why you need someone like me in your corner. Someone who can handle all of this while you focus on your football."
As they moved through the courses – each more exquisite than the last – Jorge began to delve into the details of what he could offer.
"As your agent, I would take a 10% commission on your contracts and endorsement deals. That's standard in the industry. In return, I would handle all negotiations, marketing opportunities, and PR management. My team would work tirelessly to build your brand and secure the best possible deals for you."
Luka listened intently, trying to take it all in. Jorge continued, "We'd start by negotiating your Dortmund contract – if that's what you want – or fielding offers from other clubs. We'd also look into endorsement deals. With your looks and talent, sportswear brands will be lining up to sign you."
"But what about my football?" Luka asked, concerned. "I don't want to get distracted by all of this off-field stuff."
Jorge smiled approvingly. "That's exactly the right attitude, Luka. And that's why you need me. I handle all of that, so you can focus entirely on your game. Your job is to become the best footballer you can be. My job is to make sure you're rewarded appropriately for that talent."
As the dessert course arrived – a work of art involving spun sugar and exotic fruits – Jorge leaned in. "Luka, I'm going to be frank with you. The next few years are crucial for your career. The decisions you make now will shape your entire future in football. I can help you navigate these waters, avoid the pitfalls that have tripped up other young talents, and set you on the path to true greatness."
Luka sat back, feeling overwhelmed. "This is... it's a lot to think about, Jorge."
The agent nodded understandingly. "Of course it is. I don't expect an answer tonight. Take your time, talk to your family. But remember, opportunities like this don't come around often. The sooner we start working together, the more we can accomplish."
As they finished their meal, Jorge handed Luka a business card. "Think it over. When you're ready to take the next step in your career, give me a call. No pressure, but also don't wait too long. The football world moves fast, and we want to make sure you're always one step ahead."
Luka took the card, staring at it as if it held the key to his future – which, in a way, it did.
As Luka left the restaurant, his mind was racing. The weight of Jorge Mendes' business card in his pocket felt like it could anchor a ship. He hailed a taxi, but as he sat in the back seat, he found himself unable to focus on the passing city lights.
Jorge Mendes. One of the most powerful agents in world football. The man behind Cristiano Ronaldo's career, among countless other stars. And he wanted to represent Luka.
Why was he even hesitating?
Before the taxi had even reached his apartment, Luka had made up his mind. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the card.
"Jorge Mendes speaking," came the smooth voice on the other end.
"Mr. Mendes - Jorge," Luka corrected himself. "It's Luka. Luka Zorić."
"Ah, Luka," Jorge's voice warmed noticeably. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Is everything alright?"
Luka took a deep breath. "Yes, everything's fine. I've been thinking about what you said, and... I'm ready. I want you to be my agent."
There was a brief pause, and Luka could almost hear the smile in Jorge's voice when he replied. "Excellent decision, Luka. I'm thrilled to have you on board. We'll set up a meeting tomorrow to go over the paperwork. For now, get some rest. Your career is about to take off in ways you can't even imagine."
As Luka ended the call, he felt a mixture of excitement and relief wash over him. He had taken the first step towards securing his future in football.
The next morning, Luka woke up to a flurry of notifications on his phone. As he scrolled through them, his eyes widened. There were messages from three different national teams - England, Portugal, and Croatia.
He opened the message from England first. It was from Gareth Southgate himself, inviting Luka to join the England U21 squad for their upcoming European Championship qualifiers. Luka felt a surge of pride. Playing for England had always been a dream of his, ever since he first kicked a ball on English soil.
Next, he opened the message from Portugal. It was polite and welcoming, inviting him to train with the U21s during the next international break. While Luka appreciated the gesture, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. He had imagined playing alongside Cristiano Ronaldo, his idol. The thought of merely training with the U21s felt like a letdown in comparison.
Finally, he opened the message from Croatia. To his surprise, it wasn't just a message - it was a voice note. With trembling fingers, he pressed play.
"Luka, this is Zlatko Dalić, the manager of the Croatian national team," came a warm, accented voice. "I wanted to personally reach out to you and express how excited we are about your recent performances. We believe you have the potential to be a key player for Croatia, not just in the future, but right now. I'd like to formally invite you to join our senior squad for the upcoming World Cup qualifiers. We're not just offering you a chance to play for your ancestral homeland - we're offering you a chance to make history with us. Please, think it over. We'll be sending you a package with more information and some Croatian national team gear. We hope to see you in Zagreb soon. Živjeli!"
Luka sat on his bed, stunned. A call-up to the senior Croatian national team? For World Cup qualifiers? It seemed almost too good to be true.
As if on cue, there was a knock at his door. When he opened it, he found a courier holding a large package emblazoned with the Croatian Football Federation logo.
Inside the package, Luka found a personalized Croatian national team jersey with his name and number on the back, along with a handwritten note from the Croatian Football Federation president, Davor Šuker.
"Dear Luka," the note read, "We've been following your progress closely, and we're incredibly excited about what you could bring to our national team. Croatia has a proud footballing tradition, and we believe you could be the next star to carry that tradition forward. We're not just offering you a place in our team - we're offering you a chance to connect with your roots, to represent the country of your ancestors on the world stage. We hope you'll consider our offer seriously. Dobrodošli u obitelj! (Welcome to the family!)"
Luka felt a lump form in his throat as he read the note. He had always felt a strong connection to his Croatian heritage, despite being born in Portugal and raised in England. His parents, specifically his mother, had made sure he grew up speaking Croatian at home, and they had taken regular trips to visit family in Zagreb.
He remembered the summers spent in Croatia, playing football on the streets with his cousins, watching the national team's matches in crowded cafes, feeling the surge of pride every time he saw the red and white checkerboard on the players' shirts. In the next few years, originaly, he had even moved there permanantly after England became flooded with migrants.
And now, he had the chance to wear that shirt himself. Not just in the future, but now. In World Cup qualifiers.
The next hour, Luka arrived at the Borussia Dortmund training ground early. The medical staff had recommended extra recovery work, and he was determined to follow their advice to the letter.
As he entered the gym, he found it nearly empty, save for a few staff members setting up equipment. Luka began his routine with some light stretching, focusing on his sore muscles. He then moved on to some low-impact cardio on the stationary bike, carefully monitoring his heart rate.
About an hour into his session, more players began to filter in. Jude Bellingham, spotted him and wandered over.
"Alright, mate?" Jude called out as he approached. "You're here early."
Luka wiped some sweat from his brow. "Yeah, just trying to get back to 100%. How about you?"
Jude shrugged. "Can't complain. Hey, did you hear about that new Netflix series everyone's talking about?"
As Luka moved to the resistance bands, he and Jude fell into an easy conversation about TV shows, music, and the latest FIFA game. It was a welcome distraction from the intensity of his recovery work.
"So," Jude said as he helped Luka with some leg stretches, "heard anything about the next match? Think you'll be starting?"
Luka shook his head. "Probably not. Medical staff wants me to take it easy. But hey, that just means I'll be fresh for the one after."
Jude grinned. "That's the spirit. Can't wait to see what you pull off next."
As the gym filled up with more players, the atmosphere became more lively. Erling Haaland arrived, his imposing presence immediately noticeable.
"Zorić! Bellingham!" he called out. "Football tennis later?"
Luka and Jude exchanged glances before nodding enthusiastically. "You're on!" Jude replied.
The morning passed quickly, with Luka alternating between his recovery exercises and light ball work. By the time lunch rolled around, he was feeling significantly better.
After lunch, a group of players gathered for the promised football tennis match. Luka found himself teamed up with Jude and Erling, facing off against Raphaël Guerreiro, Donyell Malen, and Thomas Meunier.
As they began to play, Luka felt a familiar rush of excitement. Even in this casual setting, his competitive spirit kicked in. The ball sailed over the net, and Luka instinctively reacted.
In a fluid motion, he chested the ball down, flicked it up with his heel, and sent it back over with a overhead kick. The ball sailed just over Meunier's outstretched hand, landing perfectly in bounds.
"Oi oi!" Jude exclaimed, high-fiving Luka. "Showing off, are we?"
Luka grinned sheepishly. "Just having a bit of fun."
The game continued, with both sides pulling off increasingly impressive tricks. Haaland's power was on full display, his volleys rocketing over the net with frightening speed. Jude showcased his technical skills, controlling difficult balls with ease.
On the other side, Guerreiro was a constant threat with his precise touches, while Malen's agility allowed him to reach seemingly impossible balls.
At one point, a long rally developed. The ball pinged back and forth, neither side willing to concede the point. Meunier sent over a high lob, which Haaland managed to head back. Malen responded with a powerful volley that seemed destined to win the point.
But Luka had other ideas. In a flash of inspiration, he contorted his body, performing a perfect scorpion kick. The ball arced gracefully over the net, leaving their opponents stunned.
There was a moment of silence before the court erupted in cheers and laughter.
"What was that?" Erling asked, his eyes wide with amazement.
Luka shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Something slight."
The game continued, with moments of calm interspersed with frantic rallies. One particularly intense exchange saw all six players diving and lunging to keep the ball in play, their competitive spirits on full display.
As the match wound down, Luka, Jude, and Erling found themselves serving for the win. The three exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. Jude served, Erling set it up with a gentle header, and Luka finished it off with a perfectly overhead kick.
The ball sailed over the net, bouncing just inside the line before spinning away. Game, set, match.
As they changed out of their training gear, Jude sidled up to Luka. "Hey, a bunch of us are going to grab dinner later. You in?"
Luka hesitated for a moment before responding to Jude's invitation. "Thanks, but I can't tonight. I've got a meeting with my new agent, Jorge Mendes."
Jude's eyebrows shot up. "Jorge Mendes? Wow, you're not messing about, are you? Well, good luck with that. We'll catch up tomorrow, yeah?"
Luka nodded, appreciating his teammate's understanding. As he left the training ground, he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness about the upcoming meeting.
An hour later, Luka found himself in Jorge's, modern office in downtown Dortmund. The super-agent greeted him warmly, ushering him to a comfortable leather chair.
"So, Luka," Jorge began, settling into his own seat, "let's talk about your future. First things first - sponsorships. With your talent and marketability, we've already had interest from several major brands."
Luka leaned forward, curious. "What kind of brands are we talking about?"
Jorge pulled out a tablet, swiping through some documents. "Well, the usual suspects in football - Nike, Adidas, Puma. But also some lifestyle brands looking to break into football. For example, Supreme is interested in a collaboration."
Luka frowned slightly. "Supreme? I'm not sure that's the right fit for me."
Jorge nodded, making a note. "Fair enough. What about some of the tech companies? Facebook - or Meta, as they're calling themselves now."
Facebook? Not a bad shout, he couldn't particularly remember anything bad revolving around the company that would occur in the next few years. "It's a good shout. But I'd prefer to stay away from social media companies, for now atleast."
Jorge looked intrigued by Luka's certainty but didn't press the issue. "Alright, let's focus on sportswear then. Any preferences?"
Luka thought for a moment. "What about some of the up-and-coming brands?"
Jorge raised an eyebrow. "Interesting approach. We could look into brands like Under Armour or New Balance. They're eager to sign young talents and might offer more flexibility in terms of design input and marketing campaigns."
Luka nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds more like what I'm looking for. I'd like to have some say in the products I'm endorsing."
Jorge made some notes, looking pleased. "I like your thinking, Luka. It shows maturity. Now, let's talk about some other potential endorsements. Energy drinks, for example. Red Bull has expressed interest."
Luka hesitated. "I'm not sure about energy drinks. What about more health-focused brands?"
Jorge looked surprised but impressed. "That's... actually a very forward-thinking idea. The plant-based market is growing rapidly actually. We could look into partnerships with companies like Beyond Meat or Impossible Foods."
As they continued to discuss potential sponsorships, Luka found himself growing more comfortable. He appreciated that Jorge was listening to his preferences and not just pushing for the biggest brands or paydays.
"Now," Jorge said, shifting gears, "let's talk about your playing career. I know you're happy at Dortmund, but we should start thinking about your next move. The biggest clubs in the world will be watching you closely this season."
Luka nodded, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety. "What do you think would be the best move for my development?"
Jorge leaned back, considering. "It depends on what you want. Real Madrid and Barcelona are always attractive options for young stars. But don't discount the Premier League - Manchester City, Liverpool, Chelsea, they're all potential destinations. Or we could look at something a bit different - maybe PSG."
Luka listened intently, his mind racing with possibilities. "I think... I'd like to stay in Germany for at least another season after this one. I want to establish myself here before making a big move."
Jorge nodded approvingly. "That's a smart approach. It shows you're focused on your development, not just chasing the money. We can use that to negotiate a better deal with Dortmund, with the understanding that you'll be open to a move in the future."
As the meeting continued, they discussed everything from image rights to social media strategy before signing the contract. Jorge emphasized the importance of building Luka's personal brand, suggesting a carefully curated online presence that showcased his personality as well as his football skills.