Future Foundations.

Two days had passed since the Millwall rout, but the buzz hadn't faded. Rafael found himself in the boardroom once again, though this meeting was more casual—just him and David Holloway sharing a quiet moment over coffee.

David leaned back in his chair, giving Rafael a half-smile. "So, how are the new coaches settling in?"

Rafael took a sip from his cup, then nodded slowly. "Good. Actually, really good. You can already feel the difference in sessions—tempo's higher, detail's sharper. Players are responding."

As he spoke, a flicker of something passed through his mind—his system, quietly feeding him data. Player ratings with little plus signs beside them. Some +2s, a few +3s… one in particular catching his eye.

But he said nothing about that.

Instead, he leaned back, masking the slight swell of satisfaction.

David set his cup down with a quiet clink. "The owner caught the game."

Rafael looked up.

"He was impressed," David continued. "He'll be at the home match against Swansea. Thought you should know."

Rafael gave a slow nod, processing it. "Good. I want him to see this project properly—up close."

"Then give him another performance worth watching."

Rafael stood, buttoning his blazer. "That's the plan."

He left the boardroom and drove down to the training ground, where the U21s were hosting Wigan. The crowd was sparse, mostly staff and academy parents, but Rafael wasn't here for spectacle—he was here for insight.

He found Henry, the youth assistant, standing on the sidelines with a clipboard in hand.

"Gaffer," Henry greeted with a small smile. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I like knowing what's coming up," Rafael replied, eyes already scanning the pitch. "Number 3. Who's that?"

"Harry Amass," Henry said. "Sixteen. On loan from Manchester United."

Rafael watched the left back glide up the wing, sharp on the overlap, assured in possession.

"He's got something," Henry added. "A bit raw, but he's fearless."

Rafael nodded slowly. "I like him."

The match continued, but Rafael didn't linger long. He'd seen what he needed to.

As the final whistle blew on the U21s match, the players began to drift toward the changing rooms, and the small crowd around the touchline slowly thinned. Samuel, the youth team manager, strolled over to his assistant, Henry, who was still jotting a few notes on his clipboard.

Samuel gave him a nudge with his elbow. "Did I just see the big man himself here? Or was I hallucinating from standing in the cold too long?"

Henry smirked, not looking up. "Nah, that was him."

"What's he doing at a youth game on a Tuesday afternoon?" Samuel asked, half-grinning. "Thought he'd be somewhere in a tailored suit, brooding over tactics."

Henry chuckled. "He's got eyes everywhere, you know that. Said he was interested in Harry."

"Amass?" Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Henry nodded. "Watched him for a good fifteen, twenty minutes. Didn't say much, just took it in. Think the kid caught his eye."

Samuel let out a low whistle. "Well, if the gaffer's watching, that's either very good or very terrifying for the lad."

"Bit of both, maybe," Henry shrugged. "But I'll tell you this—Amass didn't put a foot wrong today. Looked like he belonged."

Samuel smirked. "Guess we'll be seeing more of the boss down here then. Better start dressing nicer."

Henry snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that."

The two shared a brief laugh as the last of the players disappeared down the tunnel. The day felt just a little more promising.

….

Later that evening, the office was quiet, save for the soft rustle of paper as Rafael flipped through old scouting notes. The light above his desk buzzed faintly, casting a warm glow over the folder marked:

Transfer Targets.

Most of the names inside had come from the previous manager—uninspired suggestions, lacking vision or fit. Rafael crossed out three with a single line, then paused, tapping the pen thoughtfully against the edge of the page.

This wasn't just about plugging gaps—it was about building a future. His future.

He began writing again, deliberately, forming each letter with care.

Sávio Moreira de Oliveira – LW – On loan at PSV from Troyes

~ Explosive acceleration. Can beat his man one-on-one. Still raw, but fearless in possession. Offers width, unpredictability, and flair—exactly what the left side is missing. The kind of wide player who creates something from nothing.

Carlos Baleba – CDM – Lille B

~Aggressive ball-winner. Good positional sense. Could add steel and energy to midfield rotation.

Stefan Bajčetić – CDM – Liverpool

~Tactically intelligent for his age. Technically clean. Press-resistant. Could grow into a future starter.

Adam Wharton – CDM – Blackburn Rovers

~Composed under pressure. Sharp passer. Reads the game well. Championship-proven and improving.

All young. All composed. All capable of dictating rhythm and breaking lines.

He stared at the list for a moment longer, then closed the folder.

Rafael leaned back in his chair, tapping the pen twice on the desk.

Sávio stood out—not just for his ability, but because he offered something different. Not a safe bet, but a risk worth taking.

…

The set of Sky Sports' Monday Night Football buzzed with energy as the trio of pundits—Jamie Carragher, Roy Keane, and Micah Richards—prepared to break down Reading's stunning 5-1 win over Millwall. The camera panned across them as they settled into their seats, the familiar hum of analysis filling the air.

Micah Richards leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. "Well, well, well… looks like young Rafael Moretti made us all eat our words, didn't he?" he said, his voice full of mock surprise, leaning towards the other two. "I'll admit, I wasn't convinced at first, but that performance—absolutely top class."

Carragher nodded with a grin. "He's certainly proven a lot of people wrong, Micah. Tactical genius, really. We've seen teams before try to play football against Millwall and get caught out by their directness, but Moretti's approach was clever. He set the team up to dominate possession, hit them on the wings with pace, and then allowed the likes of Ince and Hoilett to just run riot in the space they created."

Roy Keane, ever the skeptic, leaned forward, his brows furrowed. "Hold on a second. It's one game. Let's not get carried away. Millwall weren't exactly firing on all cylinders, were they? Their defense was all over the place. You can't just point to one game and say it's all down to Moretti's tactical brilliance."

Carragher shot Keane a quick glance. "I get that, Roy. But you've got to admit, the way they pressed the ball, moved it quickly, and exploited Millwall's weaknesses was impressive. The key here is that Moretti had them playing as a team, which is what we've been saying about Reading all season—they've lacked that cohesion. But that—what we saw at Millwall? That was a team playing with confidence."

Keane crossed his arms, shaking his head slightly. "Confidence or not, there's a long way to go. You need consistency, and I'll believe in Moretti when I see it over a run of games, not just one result."

Micah laughed, nudging Keane's shoulder. "Roy's always the hard man to impress. But even you can't deny, that was a statement win. 5-1, away from home. That's not luck. And don't forget, that victory saw Reading climb from 23rd to 22nd place. They're now just a point away from crawling out of the relegation zone."

Carragher smiled, leaning forward. "That's the thing, Micah. It's more than just the result—it's what it means for Reading. One point away from getting out of the bottom three. If Moretti can build on this, he's got the potential to lift them out of the mess they've been in all season."

Keane's eyes flickered as he considered it for a moment before responding. "Alright, I'll give him credit where it's due. But we'll see if he can keep this up when the pressure's on, especially when it gets to the business end of the season. One win doesn't prove everything."

"Fair enough," Carragher said, nodding. "But for now, you've got to say that Moretti's put Reading back on the map. He's made a statement—whether it's the start of something or just a one-off, we'll have to wait and see."

The discussion carried on, with Micah continuing to praise the new manager and Keane staying cautious, but one thing was clear—the result had caught their attention, and they were all eager to see how the rest of the season would unfold.

…

The crisp afternoon wind rolled across the training pitches in Eindhoven, rustling the nets and sending leaves tumbling across the quiet turf. Savio stood alone, boots planted, gently juggling a ball with the inside of his foot. There was no coach watching, no teammate calling his name. Just silence and the dull ache of frustration.

Being dropped from PSV's senior squad to the reserves hadn't just stung—it felt like exile. He'd come to Europe dreaming big, hoping to make waves, and now he was training with teenagers and backup keepers. He knew he was only here on loan from Troyes, but still… he'd expected more.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out—Agente - Calling.

He answered with a weary sigh, and the conversation that followed was in Portuguese—the comfort of his native tongue softening the edge of his mood.

"I know you're frustrated," his agent began, voice calm but urgent. "But I've got some good news."

Savio raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Reading are interested."

Savio blinked, caught off guard. "Reading? The Championship team?"

"Yes," the agent replied. "They've got a new manager—young, ambitious, and Brazilian. Rafael Moretti. He's just taken over and made a huge impression in his debut. Big win. He believes in you. Wants you to be the star of the team."

Savio said nothing at first. He looked out across the pitch, the ball still at his feet.

"He speaks Portuguese, too," the agent added. "Wants to build around players who play with flair and confidence. He's promised game time. Not just minutes—he wants to make you the guy."

That gave Savio pause. Being the guy again—leading attacks, playing with freedom, feeling important—it had been a while since he'd felt that way. And with a coach who spoke his language, literally and tactically?

"The Championship's no joke," his agent went on. "There are Premier League clubs watching every week. If you light it up there, you won't be in the shadows long."

Savio looked down at the ball, then slowly smiled to himself.

"Alright," he said. "Tell me more about this Moretti."

…

The low hum of the projector filled Rafael's office, casting shifting images of Swansea's clash with West Brom onto the wall. Rafael sat at his desk, chin resting on one hand, eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched another passage of play unfold. The match was paused just as Swansea's left-back tucked inside, joining the midfield in a tight triangle.

The door creaked open behind him.

Dempsey strolled in, holding a coffee in one hand and raising an eyebrow. "That's the face of a man either solving football or losing sleep."

Rafael smirked but didn't turn away from the screen. "Swansea might be a problem."

Dempsey snorted. "Long ball FC? What's the issue? They line up in a 4-2-4—means you've already won the midfield, right?"

Rafael finally looked at him, tapping the screen to highlight the shape. "Not that simple. Their full-backs invert when they're in possession. Both of them step into midfield. Turns a two-man pivot into four."

Dempsey leaned in, trying to follow. "Yeah, but that gives us space out wide. Wouldn't that play into our hands?"

Rafael nodded slowly, then shook his head. "Normally, yeah. But their centre-back pairing—Cabango and Wood—might be the best in the league. They're aggressive, quick to cover wide spaces, and rarely let anything through in the final third. You attack wide, they close down the angles fast. It's like hitting a wall."

Dempsey sipped his coffee, brow furrowed now. "So what's the plan?"

Rafael let the clip roll again, this time pausing it just as Swansea's full-backs tucked inside. He reached for the whiteboard beside his desk and started sketching out ideas with a marker.

"They want to dominate the midfield by overloading it with numbers," he said, drawing small red circles to represent Swansea's players. "That's fine. Let them have it—because the moment they invert, they expose the flanks."

Dempsey crossed his arms, watching him work. "Didn't you just say their centre-backs deal with wide attacks?"

"They do—when those attacks come from traditional wingers. But if we invert the threat—bring our wingers narrow and push our full-backs high—we create uncertainty. Their centre-backs can't cover both the wing and the box. Especially not if we rotate intelligently."

He drew arrows now, showing Yiadom and Rahman overlapping aggressively, while Hoilett and Ince drifted into the half-spaces.

"So what—you want the full-backs bombing on while the wingers tuck in?"

"Exactly," Rafael nodded. "We overload the wings differently—make their inverted full-backs decide: track our full-backs or stay in midfield. Either way, it opens something up. And in possession, Hendrick pushes into those pockets while Loum stays disciplined behind."

Dempsey was nodding now, catching on. "And the striker?"

"João starts this one," Rafael said decisively. "His movement's more dynamic than Carroll's. We need him dragging centre-backs wide, opening channels for Ince to run into. If Ince gets one look on his left foot from that pocket… it's trouble."

He took a step back from the board.

"This isn't about fighting Swansea in the middle. It's about pulling them apart until they collapse from the edges."

Dempsey grinned. "Remind me to never play chess against you."

Rafael smirked. "Just make sure the lads play the right moves."

———

So I wanted to ask you guys which team do you want him to win the treble with: (vote using comments)

Athletico Madrid ( my preferred option tbh)

Liverpool

Frankfurt

Dortmund

Arsenal

Atalanta

Bring Man United back to glory?

Win it with Reading? (This one would be good story wise but just unrealistic as the budget would be too small).

The first signing will be Savinho. Honestly, I feel like he is extremely talented and will be one of the best in the next decade. Can't let city have him in this story tho.

And how are you guys liking the story so far. please let me know.