In a La Liga match this afternoon, Mallorca, who had been winless for eight rounds, finally secured a victory. Playing at home, they defeated Rayo Vallecano, who were ranked third at the time, with a 3-0 scoreline. José Alemany, the youngest manager in La Liga, led Mallorca to victory in his first match in charge. However, the most shocking part wasn't the result itself. In the post-match press conference, José revealed that before the game, he had told all the players in the locker room that if they didn't win, this would be the only official match he would ever coach in his life. Mallorca's captain N'Gonga and forward Tristan, who were also present at the press conference, confirmed that he indeed said this.
José explained that he was certain that Mallorca's strength exceeded that of Rayo Vallecano and that his coaching abilities were superior to those of Rayo's manager, Vázquez. That's why he made such a bold vow in the locker room. Which coach is more capable, and which team is stronger, is subjective—there are as many Hamlets as there are people. But even if Mallorca were indeed stronger than Rayo, and José were truly better than Vázquez, football isn't a game that can be easily predicted. Even the best coach leading the world's best players can't guarantee a win against a professional team! The result of a football match is the hardest to predict, and for a young coach to make such a promise… well, he must be a bit crazy. If the game had gone poorly, his managerial career would've ended before it even started.
Fortunately, José's luck seemed to be on his side. He won the game and secured his job for the time being. It's hard to imagine that he would have actually resigned had he lost, but now, Mallorca's players are likely convinced that their coach is a man of his word. Even though Mallorca is still at the bottom of the league, their morale and form might just return in upcoming matches…
Meanwhile, as Palma Daily published a front-page headline about Sunday's match and the incredible events that unfolded at the press conference, the so-called crazy manager had already boarded a flight, leaving Mallorca Island and heading straight to Madrid, the Spanish capital.
José had come for one person—the player who would one day leave a lasting mark in Mallorca's history and make a name for himself across Europe: Samuel Eto'o, Cameroon's star forward, the greatest African player since Weah, and the unquestionable "runner in the name of the black man."
But right now, despite playing in the World Cup for France a year and a half ago, Eto'o was only a substitute for Cameroon, and he wasn't getting much playtime at Real Madrid either. Last season, he only played once, and this season, with the high-profile signing of French striker Anelka, Eto'o's opportunities were further limited. Throughout the first half of the season, he only played in two games.
Today was January 25th. Although Spain's transfer window closed on January 1st, loan deals could still be completed as long as they were finalized before January 31st.
When José stepped out of Madrid Airport, no one recognized the young man wearing sunglasses, but José didn't mind. After exiting the airport, he quickly hailed a taxi and headed straight to the Bernabéu.
At the Bernabéu's Entrance 55, José walked into Real Madrid's headquarters and entered the office of the club's general manager, José Martínez Sánchez, better known as Pirri.
Pirri, a legend of Real Madrid, had retired years ago and had since served as the club's doctor. Now, he was the club's general manager and technical director, a position of considerable power. Player transfers, whether incoming or outgoing, had to go through him. If José wanted to loan Eto'o, he had to deal with him.
Before his rebirth, José hadn't known who Pirri was. He knew that Real Madrid's general managers and technical directors were usually names like Valdano, Butragueño, and Mijatović, but Pirri had been a mystery. After his rebirth, he understood how important Pirri was during the Sanz era.
"Mr. José? Hello, I'm Pirri," the man greeted with a handshake.
Though his nickname, Pirri, was widely known, José immediately noticed that Pirri wasn't a pure Spaniard. Born in Ceuta, a Spanish enclave in North Africa, Pirri wasn't black, but he was one of the few African-descended players in the Spanish national team's history. Even though he had been retired for many years, he hadn't put on weight. His face remained resolute, his eyes sharp with wisdom—definitely not someone easy to deal with, José thought.
Pirri was 55, while José, at 25, appeared young and a bit unpolished in comparison.
"Mr. Pirri, I've come to Madrid to discuss a loan," José said, getting straight to the point after sitting down.
"I know why you're here, Mr. José," Pirri nodded. "Samuel Eto'o, he's your target… I think loaning him out is a good idea, even though we have four forwards at Real Madrid. The other three rarely get injured, and Eto'o hasn't had much of a chance. He's 19 now, and he needs more match time…"
José nodded, maintaining his calm demeanor. "Real Madrid may not have many options. Even if Eto'o stays, it's not a bad outcome. After all, we're competing on three fronts this season, and we could use the depth. But all three of our other forwards are long-term starters. Raúl is the face of Real Madrid and in great form, there's no way he'll be benched. Morientes' skillset makes him invaluable as a target forward, which is why he's always been in the national team, and Anelka, who cost over 40 million, can't possibly be a benchwarmer. That leaves Eto'o with maybe one or two matches to play? He's not the 17-year-old he once was. Training won't do much for him; he needs actual match experience. And Mallorca can offer that."
"You have a point," Pirri said with a slight smile. "But that's still not enough. You see, I personally brought Eto'o from Africa. At the time, there were ten young African players who came with him, all of whom were technically and physically gifted. But Eto'o stood out to me. Do you know why? Because when I looked into his eyes, I saw an unyielding determination and will. He was just 14 then. Now, he's the only one who made it to the first team at Real Madrid. I can see that same fire in you, Mr. José. You'll be a great coach, and you're a true Mallorcan. As long as your father is still the president, you'll always be the coach of Mallorca. But I know Mallorca has caused us plenty of trouble over the years, and it might cause us more in the future. So, tell me this: why should I loan such an outstanding player to Mallorca, knowing they could cause us even more trouble?"
When Pirri finished speaking, he stood up, staring at José with an eagle-like gaze.
José stayed silent throughout Pirri's monologue, waiting until he was done to let out a chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Pirri asked.
Clearly, Pirri didn't understand Chinese negotiation tactics… but José did. He knew the best way to throw off his opponent and buy time to organize his thoughts was with a laugh.
"I never expected that Real Madrid would be so afraid of little old Mallorca," José said with a grin, shaking his head. His expression and laughter left Pirri feeling both bewildered and slightly insulted. "I mean, Real Madrid is fighting for the Champions League, even though things aren't going well in the league. A hundred-year-old powerhouse like Real Madrid, worried about a team close to relegation? That's unexpected."
After the initial surprise, Pirri's expression calmed quickly. He shook his head and said, "It's no use, young man. I'm 30 years older than you. I've seen all kinds of people. On the field, there are countless defenders trying to provoke you. At the negotiation table, there are even more trying to get under your skin. Getting me angry is not an easy feat."
José stopped smiling and nodded.