Scouting Wars & Personal Ties

Nuno Almeida walked through the corridors of Estádio do Dragão, nodding at familiar faces as he passed. The stadium was alive with activity—staff members managing paperwork, analysts reviewing match data, and coaches discussing youth prospects. He exchanged quick greetings before stopping in front of an office door labeled "Manuel Teixeira – Head of Youth Development."

He knocked.

"Come in," a voice answered.

Nuno entered. The office was a compact space, cluttered with scouting reports, tactical diagrams, and a large screen paused on match footage. Behind the desk sat Manuel Teixeira, dressed in a navy suit, his reading glasses resting atop a folder filled with reports.

"Ah, Nuno," Manuel greeted. "How's everything?"

"Good," Nuno replied, closing the door behind him. "I sent you the match footage from the U17 qualifiers—did you watch it?"

Manuel sighed, rubbing his chin. "Yeah, I did. That Marcel kid... I won't lie, he's impressive. The way he moves, his composure in front of goal—there's talent there. But let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Nuno leaned forward. "I need you to trust me on this, Manuel. That kid is special."

Manuel arched an eyebrow. "That serious?"

"Yes," Nuno said firmly. "He was the best player on the pitch, scored five goals in two matches, but what really stood out was his overall impact. He played like he was on another level compared to everyone else—even those who were older than him."

Manuel exhaled. "Alright, I get it. He's talented. But let's be realistic—you just saw one of his matchband that isn't enough."

Nuno shook his head. "I've seen enough to compare him to what we already have in Porto's youth system."

Manuel tilted his head. "Go on."

"You know Rúben Neves debuted for the first team this season, right?"

"Of course," Manuel nodded. "He's an exceptional talent."

"André Silva is 19 and still in Porto B. Diogo Leite is 15 and developing well, but Marcel is 14 and already looking better than both of them did at his age."

Manuel scoffed. "You're putting him above Rúben Neves?"

"I'm saying talent-wise, Marcel is on that level. He's more technically gifted than Neves, and in terms of natural ability, I'd put him above André Silva at the same age."

Manuel leaned back. "That's a big claim, Nuno."

Nuno nodded. "I stand by it. And here's the thing—Benfica was there. I saw Gonçalo Figueiredo and his team watching him closely. They were trying to be discreet, but they saw the same thing I did."

Manuel frowned. "That complicates things."

"Exactly," Nuno continued. "We can't afford to wait. Benfica's problem is that they hesitate on external youth players—they prioritize their own academy kids. That's our advantage. If we move quickly, we can get ahead of them."

Manuel tapped his fingers on the desk. "Wait, you said Gonçalo Figueiredo was there?"

"Yes," Nuno nodded. "I know what you're thinking—his recent track record isn't great. The young players he scouted in recent years never really made it. But that's not the point."

Manuel folded his arms. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that every player Gonçalo scouted was talented. Even if they didn't succeed in the end, it wasn't because they lacked skill—it was because of bad guidance, mentality, or injuries. That's important. It means that Gonçalo is still great at spotting talent. And if he was focusing on Marcel, then it confirms that Marcel is at least one of the most talented young players in Cameroon right now."

Manuel frowned, considering the argument.

Nuno pressed on. "So, if we wait too long, Benfica could eventually move on him. Even if they hesitate now, once he shines in AFCON U17, they'll reconsider. We have to get ahead of them."

Manuel exhaled. "Alright. But even if we agree that he's special, there's another problem. He's 14—we can't just bring him in tomorrow. And even when he turns 15, offering a full scholarship is a major financial decision."

"I get that," Nuno said. "That's why I have a plan."

Manuel raised an eyebrow.

"In February, Marcel will play in the AFCON U17. That's a high-stakes tournament, where he'll be playing against older, stronger competition. I want to send our full scouting team to analyze his performances in the group stage. If he shines there, I need you to back me up when I push for an early move."

Manuel nodded slowly. "Alright. I see your logic. But let's not ignore one thing—the level of football in Africa isn't the same as in Europe."

Nuno smirked. "I knew you'd say that."

"Well, it's true," Manuel said. "You know as well as I do that African youth tournaments don't always translate to professional success. Some kids look great at 15 but struggle in structured European football."

"I get it," Nuno said. "But that's where we come in. Marcel isn't just fast and skillful—he's got football intelligence. He plays like someone who already understands how to move in tight spaces, when to release the ball, and how to finish under pressure. That's not something you fake, no matter the level."

Manuel wasn't fully convinced yet. "And let's be honest—age fraud is a real thing. How sure are we that he's actually 14?"

Nuno exhaled. "Yeah, I've thought about that too. But from the reports I gathered, Marcel is genuinely 14. His family background checks out, and I don't think Cameroon's federation would mess up documentation for a player who's still an unknown prospect."

"Still," Manuel pressed, "we need to be cautious."

"I agree," Nuno said. "That's why we analyze him properly in AFCON U17. If he's still dominating against older players, then age fraud doesn't even matter—because we'll see it on the pitch."

Manuel drummed his fingers on the desk before nodding. "Alright. If your reports from AFCON U17 are solid, I'll back you. I'll push for the club to commit early."

Nuno grinned. "Good. You won't regret this."

Manuel smirked. "Let's just hope you've found another James Rodríguez—and not another false promise."

"Trust me, Manuel. My instincts rarely fail."

...

...

Gonçalo and Rui had returned to Lisbon and were now seated in the office of Filipe Matos, the Head of Youth Development at Benfica, to discuss Marcel.

"I saw the videos of his two matches, Gonçalo, and honestly, I agree—he's talented. Very talented," Filipe began, leaning back in his chair. "But you know that's not the real issue here."

Gonçalo and Rui sat silently as Filipe continued.

"The players you've found over the past five years… Where are they now?" Filipe's voice was calm, but pointed. "Some are stuck in the second team, others faded into lower leagues in Portugal, and a few left for backwater leagues abroad."

He folded his hands together. "Each time, we agree they're talented. That's never been the problem. It's their mentality, their work ethic, their ability to handle setbacks. And injuries. Every single one of them has been a wasted investment."

Gonçalo took a breath, steadying himself. He had expected this.

"I know," he admitted. "And I won't make excuses for the past. But this time… this time, I know it's different. He's not like the others. He's even more talented, and at just 14, we can mold him the right way."

Filipe raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you've said every time?"

"I get it," Gonçalo said, more urgently. "But listen. If we don't move fast, we're going to lose him. And that will be a big mistake."

Filipe frowned slightly. "What do you mean? You said yourself that he only recently started playing. He's barely known in Cameroon."

"That was before," Gonçalo said. "After his hat-trick in the second leg, his name is starting to spread. Not widely, but enough that others will take notice. And—" he hesitated, "—I saw Nuno Almeida at the match."

Filipe's expression hardened. "Almeida?"

"Yes," Gonçalo confirmed. "And if I saw the potential in Marcel after one match, you can bet he did too. And the way he was observing us… I'm sure he realized we were scouting him."

Filipe exhaled sharply, his fingers tapping against the desk.

"I understand what you're saying, but you need to keep perspective, Gonçalo," Filipe said, his tone firmer. "Marcel is not a certainty. He's a potential long-term prospect, not an immediate solution. We don't need to rush."

Gonçalo frowned, sensing Filipe's real hesitation.

"Look at where we are," Filipe continued. "We're first in the league, four points ahead of Porto. The club is in a strong position. We don't need Marcel right now."

Gonçalo opened his mouth to argue, but Filipe held up a hand.

"We're competing for trophies. Marcel won't even be available for the first team for years. Right now, he's just a possible investment for the future—not someone we must have today."

Gonçalo clenched his jaw.

"But if we don't move, someone else will."

Filipe leaned back.

"We don't have enough footage to make a compelling case for the Academy Director to commit to a full scholarship. That's the reality," he said.

"If we don't promise that and another club does, we'll lose him when he turns 15," Gonçalo argued.

Filipe weighed the situation.

"For now, we wait," he said. "We'll observe him in the AFCON U17. You'll send reports on each of his performances. If his team reaches the final, we'll evaluate him then. If they're eliminated earlier, we'll assess what he showed and decide if he's worth serious investment."

Gonçalo felt frustration rising in his chest.

"But by then, it'll be too late," he insisted. "If he does reach the final, other clubs will start circling."

Filipe's voice was firm. "We are Benfica. Even if he performs, no club bigger than us will come for him immediately. And we have the advantage—you've already spoken to his mother."

Gonçalo clenched his jaw. "And what if Porto moves first? What if they offer his family a full scholarship before the end of the tournament?"

Filipe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "That's not going to happen. Porto won't act before the tournament ends."

Gonçalo wanted to push back, but he could tell Filipe's mind was made up.

"That's my final decision," Filipe said. "We wait. That's all for now."

Gonçalo and Rui stood up. Rui's face was tense, and Gonçalo swallowed his frustration as they left the office.

As they walked down the corridor, Rui muttered, "He's too confident. He doesn't know Nuno Almeida like we do."

Gonçalo nodded, frowning. Filipe was wrong.

And if Porto made their move first, Benfica would have no one to blame but themselves.

...

...

Time continued to pass as the start of the training camp for the AFCON U17 approached.

The preliminary squad list had been released, introducing several new players to the team. The upcoming training sessions and friendlies would determine the final squad, set to be announced in late January.

All the players who had participated in the qualifiers were included in the squad, but Coach Atangana made it clear: their spots were not guaranteed. If they didn't work hard, they could lose their places.

---

Marcel was in the living room, lounging on the couch with Christina. The two were cuddled together, watching TV. His mother was at work, leaving them alone in the house.

"Did you talk to your friend, Madeleine?" Christina asked, her tone casual, but there was an edge of curiosity in her voice.

Marcel hesitated. "Uh… no, not yet. But don't worry, I'll talk to her after the tournament. You know how focused I've been on training these past few days."

Christina frowned slightly. "Speaking of her… you never really told me how you two became friends. I just know you've always been close."

Marcel scratched the back of his head, looking a little embarrassed. "Oh… that's actually a bit awkward."

Christina's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Now you have to tell me! If it's embarrassing, I want to hear it even more."

Marcel let out a small chuckle before beginning. "Well, it was back in 6e (first year of secondary school). At the time, she was easily the prettiest girl in the class. I wasn't all that popular yet since the school year had just started, and the inter-class football tournament hadn't begun."

Christina listened intently.

"I kinda liked her back then," he admitted sheepishly. "One day, during break, she was doing her homework, and I tried to help her… you know, to impress her."

"And?" Christina asked, her expression unreadable.

Marcel sighed, shaking his head. "It backfired… badly."

"How?"

"Well, I've always had good grades, but I wasn't the type to study a lot. What I didn't realize was… she wasn't actually doing homework. She was working on exercises from chapters we hadn't even covered yet! So when I tried to help, I ended up making a complete fool of myself because I had no idea what she was doing."

Christina tried to hold back a smirk.

"At least it made her laugh," Marcel continued. "Instead of me helping her, she ended up explaining everything to me. That's how we became friends, and we've stayed close ever since."

There was a brief silence. Christina's expression didn't change, but her eyes held a hint of something else.

"Didn't you say you liked her?" she asked after a moment. "You never confessed to her?"

Marcel shook his head. "No, I never had the courage to. Besides, at the time, there were older guys from 5e and 4e interested in her. I figured she'd like one of them instead—they were taller, older, and, well, I didn't think I had a chance."

Christina studied his face before responding. "So what happened?"

Marcel hesitated, then chuckled. "Surprisingly… she was the one who confessed to me."

Christina's expression shifted slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah. But by then, I was already in a relationship with you, so we stayed friends."

Christina turned her head slightly, sulking. "Do you regret not confessing? Maybe if you had, you'd be with her instead of me."

Marcel laughed softly. "No, not at all. If things had gone that way, I wouldn't have the amazing girlfriend I have now." He reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Besides, that was in the past. Right now, the girl I like is you."

Christina held his gaze for a moment before finally nodding. "Mmm… okay."

"And don't worry about Madeleine," Marcel reassured her. "We're just friends, and that won't change."

Christina narrowed her eyes slightly. "So… if we weren't together, would you have ended up with her?"

Marcel blinked, caught off guard. "What kind of question is that?" he chuckled nervously. "I don't know, that was a long time ago!"

Christina huffed. "That's not a no."

Marcel sighed, smiling softly. "Look, all I know is that I'm with you now, and that's all that matters to me."

Christina stared at him for a moment before finally relaxing against him. Marcel reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey," he said softly. "I told you, you're the one I like."

Christina looked at him for a long moment, searching his face. Then, slowly, she leaned in.

Their lips met, soft at first, before the kiss deepened. Marcel wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, his hands caressing her sides. She shifted, moving on top of him, her fingers tangling in his hair as their lips moved in sync.

The moment was heated, their breathing uneven.

Then, Marcel pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. "I think we should stop here…" he murmured, a little out of breath.

Christina pouted, clearly disappointed. "Why?"

Marcel let out an awkward chuckle. "Because… I don't want us to do something we'll regret later."

Christina sighed, resting her head against his chest. "I wouldn't have regretted it," she muttered. "But I guess you're right… we're still too young."

Marcel stroked her hair. "Yeah… we have all the time in the world for that."

Christina nodded, then suddenly lifted her head again, her expression turning serious.

"But don't think I've forgotten."

Marcel blinked. "Forgotten what?"

"You need to talk to your friend. Tell her to stop clinging to you so much."

Marcel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright. I'll talk to her."

Satisfied, Christina relaxed against him again. Marcel wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. As they settled back into the couch, his eyes flickered toward the TV screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

He knew one thing—he had to talk to Madeleine.

Madeleine had been part of his life since he began college, but now, for the first time, he wondered if keeping that friendship the same was worth the risk.