A Mother's Heart

Wayne Rooney, former world-class footballer, was in his hotel room in Southampton, on the phone with the sporting director of his new club, Derby County.

"I am telling you, Phillip, this kid is the future. I need him. No, we need him," Wayne said, his voice full of conviction.

Phillip Cockerill, the interim sporting director, sighed on the other end of the line. "Wayne, I've asked around about your wonder kid. Not to even mention his age—he's known as a hothead."

Wayne's response was immediate, almost dismissive. "He's just passionate. You wouldn't understand. You were never a professional player," he said, a sharp edge to his voice.

Phillip's jaw tightened. He had always dreamed of being a professional footballer, but that dream had slipped through his fingers. He'd been left behind, relegated to a position where he wasn't quite in control. "Even still, Wayne," he said, forcing his tone to remain calm. "To offer a kid a professional contract is too risky, and you know the state of the club right now. We can't afford to take risks."

Wayne's patience was wearing thin. "With all due respect, Phillip, I don't need your help signing him. When I agreed to coach Derby, I got full authority over the players I want to bring in. And given your situation, do I really need your permission?"

Phillip could feel the anger rising inside him. It was true, Wayne had full authority, but his comment about Phillip's situation stung more than it should have. He was just the interim sporting director, a role that was up for debate as the club tried to sort out its financial mess.

"Be that as it may," Phillip said, trying to keep his voice steady, "while you have the right to introduce and reject any player, you still need the approval of the sporting director to finalize bringing in a new player. Or, in this case, the interim sporting director, as you so kindly point out."

Wayne paused for a moment, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, with a more measured tone, he spoke again. "Okay, see, I know we got off on the wrong foot. But I'm serious here. This kid has the potential to reach the top. And imagine if you were the one who introduced a new phenomenon to the club. Wouldn't that help you land the permanent position you've been after?"

Phillip fell silent, the temptation of Wayne's words hanging in the air. He could feel his resolve weakening. It was true. If this kid was half as good as Wayne claimed, signing him could be a game-changer for the club—and for Phillip. It could solidify his place in the team, prove his worth in a way that could end the uncertainty surrounding his position.

Finally, after a long pause, Phillip relented. "Fine," he said, his voice quiet but resigned. "You can bring him to the club. If he's half as good as you say, there shouldn't be a problem."

Wayne, sensing his victory, smiled. "I'm already bringing him in. Three days from now. Okay, later, bye."

Before Phillip could respond, Wayne hung up the phone. He flopped back onto the bed with a grin spreading across his face. It had been a hard-fought battle, but he'd won. The kid was coming to Derby, and Wayne was sure he'd prove to be everything he hoped for.

Then, just as Wayne settled back against the pillows, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, seeing his wife Coleen's name.

Shit. I forgot to call her.

With a groan, he picked up the phone. "Hey, babe, sorry, I was just—"

Meanwhile, at the Jones residence

David was pacing back and forth in his room, his mind racing with excitement. He had always dreamed of this moment—the chance to play pro football especially under a coach who understood him. A coach who believed in his potential. Now, it was all happening. He was packing his clothes, his heart pounding in his chest. His bags were nearly full, but he couldn't stop packing and repacking as if he couldn't quite believe it was real.

As he shoved a pair of jeans into his suitcase, he heard a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer, his mom, Tabitha, walked in, her expression more serious than usual.

"Hey, honey, can we talk?" she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that instantly caught David's attention.

David dropped the clothes in his hands and turned to face her. "Sure, Mom. What's up?"

Tabitha sat down on his bed, folding her hands in her lap. She stared at the floor for a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were full of concern. "I know you're excited about this. And I'm proud of you, truly. But... I'm going to miss you so much."

David felt a tightness in his chest. He'd been so caught up in the thrill of chasing his dream that he hadn't fully realized how much it would hurt his mother to let him go. He moved to sit next to her on the bed, trying to brush it off. "I promise, Mom. I'll be fine. This is my dream. It's everything I've worked for."

Tabitha's voice trembled. "I know, sweetie. I know you will be fine. I just... I don't know how to handle it. You're leaving home, and I—I can't just walk into your room whenever I want to check on you. It's hard, David. It's so hard."

David felt his own throat tighten as he tried to hold back tears. "Aren't you happy for me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Tabitha's eyes welled up with tears, and she nodded slowly. "I am, baby. I am so happy for you. I just... I'm going to miss you so much. I've spent your whole life watching you grow, and now you're leaving. I know it's time, but I'm not ready."

David stood up, his own heart breaking at the sight of his mother's tears. He walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. "It's okay, Mom," he whispered. "I Googled it. It's just three hours away. We can see each other anytime. And I'll come back whenever we can. I promise."

Tabitha hugged him even tighter, crying harder now. "My sweet boy," she whispered, holding on to him like she never wanted to let go. "You'll always be my baby."

David swallowed hard, his own eyes filling with tears. He didn't know how to make her feel better, how to ease the pain of this moment. But he knew one thing for sure: this was the hardest part of chasing his dream—the pain of leaving home, of leaving behind the people who had been with him through it all.

Outside the door, David's father, Isaac, stood quietly, listening to the exchange. He knew how much this moment meant to both of them. His son was taking the next step toward something bigger, but it wasn't easy for either of them. Isaac had hoped for this day, but now that it had come, it was harder than he expected.