In the midst of the raucous crowd at the stadium, José Alemany applauded and watched as Coach Cooper was lifted by the players and repeatedly thrown into the air.
José was a young man, only twenty-five. Many of the players on Mallorca were older than him. He had gone to the United States to study at the age of eighteen, but dropped out two years later and returned to Mallorca. His father was shocked when he returned home, as this young man had amassed a fortune of nearly two hundred million dollars in cash in those two years - with just his pocket money!
José never talked much about how he made that money. The only thing Alemany could confirm was that the money came legally, earned by José on the New York Stock Exchange-a miracle, really. In just two years, he had made two hundred million dollars. Even though five years later most people had forgotten about this young man who was rapidly increasing his wealth, some still wondered why he had suddenly left his career in New York to return home. But time has a way of making people forget. After spending three years in semi-seclusion studying to become a professional coach, José Alemany - the name that was once a household word on Wall Street - had begun to fade from memory. José then joined the Mallorca Soccer Club as a youth team coach, later joining the first team midway through the season as an assistant to Coach Cooper, a position he holds to this day.
Perhaps only José knew why he had decided to step back from the fast track. It was a secret that only he knew.
As he applauded from the stands, José's mind wandered to a conversation he had had two days earlier with Asensio, the club's president.
"Young man, you've done a great job as assistant coach this past year. Coach Cooper has sung your praises to me."
José just smiled politely without answering.
Asensio continued on, unconcerned. He stood up, walked around the office and said, "You and Juan grew up together. Your father and I have been friends for many years. When your father asked me to let you coach at the Mallorca club two years ago, I thought it was just a whim. But your performance in the last two years has been outstanding. In just one year, you've won over all the youth coaches, and once you joined the first team, even Coach Cooper couldn't stop praising you. Honestly, José, it makes me proud to see where you are now.
"Thank you, Mr. President," José nodded politely. "It's just that I enjoy this career and it makes me perform better."
"That's right. Enjoying your work makes a big difference, especially when you don't have to worry about money," Asensio agreed, then moved on to the main topic: "José, I called you here to tell you something important."
"What is it?" José asked, although he already had a good idea.
"This season we've done well. But next season there will be big changes. I'll be stepping down as president, and Coach Cooper will be leaving as well," Asensio said slowly.
It was surprising news, but José remained calm, with only a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes. His expression didn't change, which made Asensio think even more highly of him. Maintaining such composure in the face of such news was no small feat.
But what Asensio didn't know was that José had already anticipated this. For him, these future events were just part of the history he already knew.
This was José's greatest secret and one of the main reasons he had returned to Mallorca.
"Coach Cooper is going to Valencia. We need a new coach for Mallorca - would you be willing to take on that role?" Asensio asked.
It was undoubtedly a powerful offer. It was almost unheard of for a coach as young as José to take charge of a club in Europe's top leagues. Although José had strong links with Mallorca, the offer showed that Asensio had great faith in him.
But José gave an unexpected response: "I'm sorry, Mr. President. I think I need more experience. The club will be playing in the Champions League for the first time next season. We need a more experienced coach to lead the team. Whoever that coach is, I'll do my best to support him.
Asensio was taken aback and stared at José for a long time before slowly nodding.
Back in the present, José smiled slightly as he remembered the conversation.
"I'm not ready to be Mallorca's head coach yet, Mr. Asensio. What I want is much bigger than just being a coach! Besides, Mallorca isn't the kind of club I have in mind," he thought.
"The Asensio family owns 60% of the club, Grande owns 30%, and the rest is scattered among several shareholders. Majorca is controlled by these people. I'm sure I could turn Mallorca into a top club, but it's impossible with so many restrictions. The financial balance of the club is always in question. Players who perform well are inevitably sold and the profits go to the shareholders. Should I just work hard for their benefit? That's absurd! Unless the club is privately owned, nobody cares about its long-term growth. The shareholders just want to make money. Under these conditions, even with twenty Coopers, Mallorca won't become anything significant".
Late at night, José lay in bed thinking about his father's words.
"José, Antonio told me today that I'll be president of Mallorca next season. Even though it's just a job, it doesn't matter. Antonio and I have been friends for thirty years and he's going to support me at the club. You've always wanted to be a head coach, right? Work hard and if you have the ability, I'll make sure you get the job!
Remembering his father's encouraging words, José couldn't help but smile.
Becoming a head coach wasn't out of the question for him now. But as he had thought earlier, he didn't want to work hard just to serve the management of Mallorca. That would be a waste of effort.
"Two hundred million isn't enough. I'll have to wait. Grande doesn't want to give up his shares, especially now that Mallorca are in the Champions League and their value has increased. If I had more money, I'd just buy shares in Google instead of going through all this trouble.
With a sigh, José raised his right hand, and a strange sight appeared - a small plate formed in his palm and expanded until it filled his entire hand. It glowed faintly, but nothing appeared on it.
"Those idiots gave me this little device without even a manual. What a scam."
José muttered softly, then closed his hand and the panel disappeared.
This was José's biggest secret - this time he didn't belong. He was originally a young man named José from ten years in the future. While on vacation in Mallorca, he had a surfing accident, and just when he thought he was dead, something inexplicable happened.
To this day, José still remembers the terrifying scene.
"What is going on here? This man should have another 50 years of life, why is he here?" an angry voice shouted.
"Sorry, boss, you know how it is... sometimes we make mistakes," another voice answered, trying to calm him down.
"Then stop making excuses. Wipe his memory and send him back," the angry voice replied, calming down.
"Well, there's a little problem..."
"What now?"
"Uh, sorry boss, I may have had a little too much to drink at your place last night, and I got there a little late. By the time I went to retrieve that guy's soul, his body had already been eaten by a shark. But I brought back the shark fin... would you like some?"
"You idiot! I knew you would drag me down with you..."
Then there was the sound of a scuffle, with punches and kicks being exchanged. After a long time, José's vision began to clear, and he saw a huge, hideous, bull-headed figure standing before him - its face bruised and swollen with several large lumps.
"Ghost!" José let out a scream.
"Boy, we're not ghosts. Watch your words-everyone dies sometime, and you'll end up in our hands one day, too," the bullheaded figure grumbled in a deep voice.
It took José a long time to calm down, and from what he overheard, he pieced together the situation. He wasn't supposed to die, but due to a mistake in their work, he had been taken prematurely. To make matters worse, his body had already been eaten by sharks...
José thought this would be the perfect opportunity to negotiate some kind of compensation, but as it turned out... bureaucrats are the same everywhere.
"If we wanted to mess with you, we could think of a thousand ways. You've got 50 years of life left, so how about we let you sit here for those 50 years, and then when your time
is up, we'll send you on your way. How does that sound?" the bullheaded figure sneered.