Chapter 134: The Best Gift

For Vicente Engonga, his career had already exceeded expectations. Starting from amateur leagues, he had climbed all the way to the top division, earned a spot in the national team, won the Copa del Rey, and lifted the Spanish Super Cup. Compared to football's biggest stars, these achievements might not seem like much, but for the Equatorial Guinea-born midfielder, his career had been nothing short of a success.

With one year remaining on his contract with Mallorca, he had gradually transitioned into a backup role this season. Yet, there were no complaints—he felt it was about time to step away from the game. As for what he would do after retirement, he hadn't quite figured it out. But there would be plenty of time to think about that later…

At 36 years old, there wasn't much left to consider. If the club still wanted him next season, he'd play another year. If not, it would be time to move on. He was different from Albert Celades, a well-traveled player who had stints at both Real Madrid and Barcelona. With limited playing time this season, Celades was already preparing to leave, possibly extending his career in a lower division. But Engonga? He had no interest in changing clubs again. He liked Mallorca. Life here was good.

As the season neared its end, he thought—if they could win the Copa del Rey before it was all over, that would be the perfect ending.

What he didn't expect was José approaching him with… a brand-new contract.

—

"Hey, Vicente, you've been pretty quiet in training lately," José casually remarked, trying to strike up a conversation.

Engonga shot a curious glance at his manager, who was nearly ten years younger than him. "I've never been much of a talker during training anyway."

"Oh, then I must've misread things." José responded without missing a beat, then handed him a document. "I thought you might be upset that the club hadn't offered you a new contract yet."

"There's nothing to be upset about. I'm at the age where retirement is inevitable…" Engonga shrugged as he reached for the document—only to widen his eyes when he realized it was a contract.

"This is a two-year deal," José explained with a smile. "If you accept, you'll be a player-coach for the next two seasons. Your salary stays the same. You'd be my assistant, mainly responsible for communicating with the players. I think you're the perfect fit for the role. Plus, Motta could learn a lot from you."

As Engonga studied the contract, José continued, "Once you decide to stop playing, we'll sign a coaching contract instead. I'm restructuring the coaching staff. Instead of just a couple of assistant coaches, I want specialists—one for communication, one for fitness, one for tactics, one for scouting, one for analysis… A professional and well-organized coaching team that can take Mallorca to the next level. To achieve that, I need help. Vicente, will you help me?"

Engonga finished reading the contract, then extended his hand.

"Give me a pen. I think I'm ready to sign," he said.

"You're not going to let your agent review it first?" José asked in surprise.

"A guy my age doesn't need an agent anymore," Engonga laughed heartily. "With this contract, I don't think I'll ever need one again…"

—

For the final match of the league season, José made significant lineup changes, resting several key players. When the starting eleven was announced, many outsiders questioned whether he was being overly confident.

Goalkeeper: Franco.Defenders: Campano, Gamarra, Niño, Capdevila.Midfielders: Engonga, Marcos, Kaladze, Novo.Forwards: Luque, Eto'o.

Five first-team regulars were left out, particularly in midfield and defense, raising concerns about Mallorca's attacking potency. While the front duo remained intact, could they still be effective without their usual support from midfield?

Engonga's reduced role this season, combined with Thiago Motta's emergence, had led many to overlook his contributions. But today, he reminded everyone of his value.

Real Oviedo's players assumed that Mallorca's lineup changes signaled an unspoken agreement to settle for a draw—a result that would suit both teams. They were mistaken.

After a cautious opening, Mallorca began to assert their dominance.

With Kaladze and Marcos covering defensively, Engonga had the freedom to focus solely on orchestrating the attack. And he did so brilliantly.

In the 37th minute, he received a pass from Novo in midfield. Under pressure from two Oviedo defenders, he remained composed, lifting his foot to deliver a precise, surgical through ball.

Eto'o timed his run perfectly, breaking through the defensive line and finishing clinically past the onrushing goalkeeper.

"Goal! Eto'o scores his 11th league goal of the season! That's an impressive tally for just half a season, showing significant progress compared to last year!"

"But let's not overlook Engonga's role in this goal—let's watch the replay… What a pass! That ball cut through Oviedo's entire defense like a knife through butter! And now, Oviedo is in serious trouble. In the other crucial match, Osasuna is leading Real Sociedad 1-0. If these results hold, Oviedo will be relegated!"

Desperation set in for Oviedo. They threw everything forward in search of an equalizer, but Mallorca's three-man midfield shielded the defense brilliantly. If even La Liga's top clubs struggled to break them down, what chance did Oviedo have?

Their reckless attacks left gaps at the back. In the 58th minute, Engonga initiated another attack, feeding Novo, who delivered a pinpoint cross for Luque to head home. 2-0.

Oviedo pulled one back a minute later, but Novo restored the two-goal cushion just five minutes after that.

With nearly half an hour left, Oviedo's fans were already resigning themselves to relegation—Mallorca had no intention of taking it easy.

In the 84th minute, Engonga surged forward and played another perfectly weighted pass, sending Eto'o through on goal once again.

Oviedo's defenders had given up chasing, leaving only their goalkeeper to confront the onrushing Eto'o.

The Cameroonian had countless ways to dribble past the keeper, yet he seemed to slow down ever so slightly…

A moment later, he was taken down.

The referee immediately pointed to the spot.

Strangely, Eto'o didn't step up to take the penalty himself. Instead, he grabbed the ball and ran straight to midfield.

"Captain, you take this one," he said, handing the ball to Engonga with a wink. "This is my gift to you."

Engonga was stunned. So that's why Eto'o had slowed down—he had orchestrated this moment for him.

A career not known for goals, Engonga had only scored in three of his top-flight seasons since joining Valladolid in 1991. This season, he had yet to find the net.

Eto'o wanted to give him one last goal before he faded from the limelight.

He nodded to Eto'o, then carried the ball to the penalty spot.

Realizing what was happening, the crowd erupted in chants.

"Vicente! Score for us!"

"You're the best captain we've ever had!"

"A record-breaking season deserves a captain's goal!"

Engonga heard them all but said nothing. He simply bit his lip, took a deep breath, and stepped back.

The referee's whistle blew. He took his run-up and struck the ball cleanly—sending the goalkeeper the wrong way.

Goal!

Tears welled in his eyes as he sprinted towards the stands, lifting his jersey and kissing the Mallorca crest.

Thunderous applause filled the stadium.

For Engonga, this penalty was the best farewell gift he could have asked for—along with Mallorca's highest-ever league finish.

A perfect season.