Rashid had indeed said those words, but much of it was fueled by long-buried anger. He hadn't expected the situation to be this grim.
Just earlier, Gigi had handed him data from the Performance Analysis division on the latest attribute reviews of each player, and the results were terrible.
For instance, at his previous club, the passing attribute was at least 7/10, which was the minimum standard even for U-21 players. However, the best player at this club only had a passing attribute of 3.8/10—worse than a 10-year-old academy player from his old team.
To see things for himself, Rashid headed straight to the training center the next day.
Training was supposed to start at 8 a.m., but it was already 10, and only one person had shown up.
"They're always like this. They think training during the pre-season break is a waste of time," the man said, introducing himself as Sandro.
Rashid recognized him immediately: Alessandro Bianchk, the team captain and the oldest player on the squad at 35. He was a center-back, yet his defensive ability was abysmal: 2/10, the second-worst on the team.
'Does he have some kind of ownership in this club? Or did they make him captain just because he's the oldest?'
"That's them," Sandro pointed to a group of players entering the field.
Not only were they unprepared in training gear, but they also showed no sign of remorse.
Three players in the front row were openly laughing.
As expected, Sandro stepped up and spoke angrily, taking over from Rashid. "What do you think you're doing? Training started two hours ago. Where have you been?"
The three ignored him. Sandro clicked his tongue in frustration and grabbed one of them by the shoulder. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"
"Tch. So what, old man? Do you think being the most diligent makes you better than me? No, right? Listen, it's all about talent. Talent is the foundation of everything. If your foundation is as worthless as dog crap, you'll end up as nothing but crap."
The one mocking Sandro was Luca Santoro, the most important player in the club, even though he was only 23.
"What did you say?" Sandro shouted, enraged.
Luca smirked mockingly. "Seems even a simple analogy is too much for your rusty brain. How about you start packing your bags and head to the retirement home?"
"Bastard."
Rashid blew his whistle.
PEEP
Both men looked at him, half-surprised, half-annoyed.
"To the locker room. Now," Rashid commanded, walking ahead of them.
It took about 20 minutes for all the players to gather, a total of 16. Though small, this was a typical squad size for a team in this division.
"I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Rashid Alfaro, and I'm your head coach." Rashid looked them over. Some appeared focused, but most were indifferent, chatting amongst themselves.
Of course, one of the ones chatting was Luca, who was laughing openly, becoming the center of attention.
Rashid continued, "The club owner has asked me to aim for mid-table, but I don't do things halfway. I plan to bring this club back to the top. I guarantee we'll win the league this season. And the Coppa Italia."
"Pfft…."
"Hahahah."
Rashid stared at the three who had just laughed.
"Champion, he says."
"Coppa Italia, he says."
Luca and his two friends took turns laughing loudly.
"Is something funny, Mr. Santoro?"
"Funny? Ah, yeah… I watched your interview last night and thought it was just lip service. Of course, no one expects anything from this club anymore, but people love controversy, and fans like a coach who seems tough. But I didn't think you'd actually be like that."
"I don't understand what you mean."
Luca smirked. "Listen, Rashfara, or whatever your name is. Doesn't matter. There's always someone like you around here, talking about changing our fate, surpassing the owner's expectations. But in the end, you're just another clown full of hot air. If I can offer any advice as the most important person here, it's this: don't try to act tough, jerk."
"Bringing the club back to the top, he says."
"Does he think this is some kind of inspirational movie?"
The three burst into laughter again.
Luca shrugged. "I had high hopes since you've worked with big teams, but—"
"Hey, how about we play 5-on-5?"
"That sounds better. I'm getting sleepy listening to this nonsense." The three stood up to leave, even though Rashid hadn't dismissed them.
"Hey, where do you think you're going? Get back here, or—"
"Or what? What are you going to do, jerk, tell me!" Luca shoved Sandro, who had tried to stop them. Sandro, caught off guard, lost his balance and fell. Luca walked over and stomped on his face. "That's right. Crap belongs on the ground, being stepped on."
"You…"
"Mr. Santoro, that's enough!"
Luca lazily glanced up. Rashid pushed him away. "You've crossed the line. Get out. You're suspended! No access to training for the next three days."
Instead of protesting, Luca chuckled. "Three days, huh? That's plenty of time for you to realize you've picked the wrong side."
Rashid watched Luca leave, already sensing the chaos on his first day.
And that's exactly what happened. After Luca was sent off, even more players reacted negatively.
For example, when Rashid asked them to warm up, only 2 or 3 followed instructions, while the rest grabbed balls and started playing by themselves.
When he ordered them to run laps, only Sandro complied, while the others headed to the cafeteria, claiming it was lunchtime.
"Financial problems, a poor reputation with fans, and internal squad conflicts," Rashid summarized A.C. Aeterna's problems.
After doing some research online, he found that despite the club's decline, they had set a record a few years ago—though a negative one: they became the first Serie C team to change coaches three times in one season.
The first change had come just a month into the new season, largely due to the coach losing control of the locker room. Rashid seemed to have already lost that control on his first day. Would A.C. Aeterna set a new record under his watch, firing their head coach after just one match?
Of course, Rashid knew his earlier words had been nothing but empty promises. Even before being treated this way, he had known these players were beyond saving.
Coming here would only ruin his resume. If this was a gamble, it was a reckless one. His future career prospects were looking bleak.
'Then what?' Did Rashid expect a bright future after all the wrongs he had committed?