David sat on his bed, phone in hand, mentally preparing for a conversation he wasn't entirely sure how to approach. Wayne Rooney wasn't just his coach—he was his mentor, someone he admired deeply. The weight of his decision hung heavily, and for a moment, he debated holding off on the call. But David wasn't one to delay the inevitable. He dialed Rooney's number, and it rang twice before the familiar voice of his gaffer filled the line.
"David, boy!" Wayne's voice was warm, his usual blend of enthusiasm and authority. "How are you this fine day? Hope you're still working out—you know the season can start back any time. We need you in tiptop shape."
David chuckled nervously. "Yes, gaffer. I'm still working out. I'm as good as ever."
"That's my boy," Rooney said with a laugh. "So, what's up? You didn't call just to tell me you're in shape, did you?"
David took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "Actually, gaffer, there's something I need to talk to you about. It's… it's big."
The line was quiet for a beat before Rooney responded, his tone slightly more serious. "Alright, son. Lay it on me."
David hesitated but then pushed forward. "I've been approached… by Manchester United. They want to sign me."
For a moment, there was silence on the other end. Then Rooney let out a low sigh. "Well, that's big news, alright. I can't say I didn't see it coming. You've been phenomenal, David. Any club would want you."
David couldn't quite read the tone in Rooney's voice—was it pride, or something else?
"But…" Rooney's voice carried a hint of disappointment now, "Man United, huh? That's your dream club, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," David said, his voice steady. "It's been my dream since I was a kid. Playing for United, wearing the red shirt—it's everything I've ever wanted."
Rooney sighed again, this time deeper, and David could almost picture him running a hand through his hair. "Look, David, I won't lie. Manchester United is a massive club. I get the appeal, trust me. But right now, they're not the club they used to be."
David frowned slightly but stayed quiet, letting Rooney speak.
"They've been in a rough patch, son," Rooney continued. "Changing managers, inconsistent performances… it's not the stable environment you'd think it is. A young player like you needs stability. You need to grow, to mature. And I'm not sure United is the place for that right now."
"I understand, gaffer," David said, his voice soft.
"Do you?" Rooney asked, a note of challenge in his tone. "Because you're one of the best talents I've seen, David. And I'm not saying this because I want to keep you here—well, alright, maybe I am a little. But I'm also saying this because I care. You've got a bright future ahead of you, but timing is everything. If you jump into the deep end too soon, it can sink you."
David nodded, even though Rooney couldn't see him. "I hear you, gaffer. I do."
Rooney sighed again. "David, you're going to have plenty of offers from big clubs. If you give it time, you'll have your pick of the best. Just… think about it, alright? Don't rush into anything."
"Yes, sir," David said obediently. "I'll think about it."
"Good lad," Rooney said, his tone softening. "And no matter what you decide, just know I'll support you. Always."
"Thank you, gaffer."
The call ended, and David stared at his phone for a moment, his chest tight. He respected Rooney more than anyone, and hearing the disappointment in his voice stung. Deep down, though, David knew his mind was made up. Manchester United wasn't just a club to him—it was a dream.
But dreams didn't come without sacrifice.
He tossed his phone onto the bed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The excitement he had felt earlier was now dampened by doubt. Rooney's words echoed in his mind. Was he making the right decision? Could he handle the pressure?
As these thoughts swirled, his phone buzzed again. Another call. He glanced at the screen, and his heart skipped a beat. The name flashing on the screen wasn't one he expected.
David hesitated for a moment, then picked up the call. "Hello?"
"David, my boy!" came the energetic voice of Jonathan, his new agent. "I was just about to call you myself. Big day, huh?"
David sighed. "You could say that."
Jonathan, oblivious to David's conflicted mood, barreled on. "I just got off the phone with United's people. They're ready to move fast. Contracts, negotiations, the whole nine yards. You're about to make history, kid!"
David didn't respond immediately, and Jonathan picked up on the silence. "Hey, what's wrong? You're not second-guessing this, are you?"
"No," David said quickly. "It's not that. I just… I just talked to Rooney about it."
"Ah, the gaffer," Jonathan said knowingly. "Let me guess—he tried to talk you out of it?"
David didn't answer, but his silence was confirmation enough.
"Look, David," Jonathan said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I get it. Rooney's been good to you, and he's not wrong about wanting what's best for you. But this is Manchester United we're talking about. This is your chance to step onto the world stage. You're ready for this."
David closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I hope so."
"You don't need to hope," Jonathan said confidently. "You need to believe. And I believe in you, kid. Now, go get some rest. Big things are coming."
The call ended, and David set his phone down again, feeling a mix of emotions—excitement, anxiety, and a lingering sadness. He glanced around his apartment, suddenly feeling the weight of the choices he was making.
He walked over to the window, looking out at the city lights. Somewhere out there, his dream was waiting for him. But dreams, he realized, often came with a price.
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