The contractual demands Jorge Mendes laid out were indeed extremely difficult for Atlético Madrid to stomach.
An annual base salary of five million euros. Nearly ten thousand euros per appearance. Nearly ten thousand euros per goal. Eight thousand euros per assist. And a ten-thousand-euro win bonus.
Staring at these figures...
Atlético's CEO, Miguel Ángel Gil Marín, felt his vision go dark.
He even began to suspect...
That some super-club was already secretly tapping Shane up, which was why the teenager's camp felt emboldened to present such extortionate demands.
The first round of negotiations concluded without an agreement.
Mendes, however, remained entirely unbothered.
If they didn't agree today, they didn't agree today.
Ultimately, the party feeling the suffocating pressure wasn't him. It was Atlético Madrid.
"No agreement? Why not?"
Shane was slightly surprised when Mendes relayed the news.
"Well, since you've decided to stay at Atlético for the remainder of the season anyway, dragging the negotiations out a bit longer doesn't hurt us," Mendes shrugged casually.
"I mean, what was their specific reason for rejecting the offer?"
Mendes slid a copy of the contract draft across the table for Shane to read.
"Five million euros?! Base salary?!"
Shane himself jumped slightly in his seat.
"Keep reading... look at the bonus structure."
"Holy shit... ten grand to step on the pitch, ten grand for a win, ten grand for a goal... this is..." Shane felt his own scalp tingle.
If Atlético actually agreed to this contract...
Factoring in all the performance bonuses, they would be paying him roughly six million euros a year.
What kind of concept was that?
Shane's family was solidly upper-middle class.
His parents ran a successful import-export business in Madrid, moving American manufactured goods.
Their annual net profit was roughly five hundred thousand euros.
Which meant...
What Shane would earn in one year on this contract was equivalent to twelve years of relentless, grinding labor by both his parents combined.
"So they felt the numbers were too high, right?"
"Of course they did. This structure would make you the joint-highest earner in the history of Atlético Madrid."
"The highest earner...?!"
Shane's jaw dropped.
He hadn't bothered researching Atlético's internal wage structure. He had no idea what his teammates were making.
"This exact salary is what Radamel Falcao is currently earning. Before him, Sergio Agüero never made anywhere near this much."
Shane suddenly understood the resistance.
"Well, then it makes perfect sense why they wouldn't want to sign off on it," Shane reasoned. After all, he was still a rookie. If they gave him the absolute maximum salary on his very first contract, what room would they have left for future renewals?
However, Shane felt Atlético's management was overthinking things.
He wasn't a die-hard, bleeding-heart Atlético loyalist.
Once he fully established his reputation and honed his skills here...
He obviously intended to test himself on a bigger platform eventually.
Furthermore...
If five million euros was the absolute historical ceiling for this club...
It proved that Atlético ultimately couldn't offer the kind of generational wealth he would eventually command.
If he truly wanted to maximize his earnings...
He would inevitably have to transfer to a super-club.
"We will continue negotiating," Mendes stated firmly. "Agreeing to five million will feel like cutting off their own flesh, but your current contractual status makes you effectively a free agent. If they think they can secure your signature without bleeding heavily, they are delusional."
"Alright... but the winter window closes in exactly three days."
"That doesn't matter. We can stretch these negotiations all the way until the summer window if we have to," Mendes smiled slyly. "In fact, if an agreement isn't reached by the summer, you will possess infinitely more leverage and options."
"You're not deliberately stalling just to force me into a transfer, are you?" Shane asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"No, no, no, Shane... I am entirely on your side. Your interests are my interests," Mendes promised, patting his chest. "If you want them to compromise quickly, I just need your full cooperation."
"How do I cooperate?"
"Continue delivering spectacular performances on the pitch."
Shane snapped his fingers. "No problem."
That was the one thing he was best at.
...
"This might be the most heavily scrutinized winter transfer window of the last decade!"
That was the prevailing sentiment among the European sports media as they watched the major clubs scramble over the last few days.
News outlets across the "Big Four" European leagues were relentlessly broadcasting the soap opera surrounding Shane Carter's potential transfer.
One day, British tabloids would claim Manchester United had already agreed to terms with the teenager, ready to announce a buzzer-beating deadline-day signing, complete with rumors that the infamous Carrington fax machine had been thoroughly serviced and prepped.
The next day, a different outlet would claim Arsenal had already prepared a VIP medical suite at London Colney, guaranteeing that this time, there would be no transfer portal mishaps.
In short.
If you lived in England, Italy, or Germany...
Reading the local sports pages would make you genuinely believe that Shane's departure from Madrid was already a finalized, absolute certainty.
But inside the Atlético Madrid training complex...
Everything remained perfectly calm.
Shane had held a private conversation with Diego Simeone.
He assured the manager that he had no desire for a rushed, chaotic mid-season transfer, especially with only three days left in the window. However, he also made it clear that he wasn't going to blindly sign whatever lowball contract the executives put in front of him.
He required a contract that accurately reflected his newfound status as the tactical core of the team.
Simeone expressed complete understanding.
He fully supported Shane leaving the business negotiations to his agent, allowing the teenager to focus one hundred percent of his energy on the pitch.
Beating Real Madrid...
Had propelled Atlético another massive step up the league table.
With 33 points, Atlético had successfully clawed their way into fourth place.
Meanwhile, the team sitting directly above them—Valencia—had suffered a shock defeat to Málaga in the previous round.
Valencia's points tally remained frozen at 38.
This sudden turn of events gave Atlético genuine hope of challenging for third place. And compared to fourth, finishing third was a vastly superior outcome.
Because if a team finished fourth in La Liga, they were forced to navigate a treacherous, two-legged Champions League playoff qualifier in August, potentially drawing a dangerous opponent from Italy or Germany.
It was highly risky. If you lost that playoff tie, your entire season's effort to reach the Champions League was instantly flushed down the drain.
But finishing third guaranteed automatic, direct entry into the Champions League group stage.
Prior to the Madrid Derby, Atlético's ultimate objective had simply been to scrape into the top four.
But now that they were actually sitting in fourth...
The natural ambition was to aim higher. To hunt down Valencia and seize third place.
That was the nature of sporting ambition; it always expanded the closer you got to success.
And conveniently...
The football gods had presented Atlético with the perfect opportunity: La Liga Matchday 22, at home in the Vicente Calderón, against none other than Valencia.
Win this "six-pointer"...
And Atlético would slash the gap between themselves and third place to a mere two points!
...
Valencia manager Unai Emery was currently nursing a massive headache.
His squad had performed brilliantly during the first half of the season.
While they couldn't realistically sit at the same table as the monstrous duopoly of Real Madrid and Barcelona...
Valencia had firmly established themselves as the "best of the rest," essentially forming their own tier in third place.
At one point, they had enjoyed a staggering 12-point lead over fourth place.
But as the second half of the campaign commenced...
Valencia's domestic form had begun to violently fluctuate.
With the intense schedules of the Copa del Rey and European competitions looming...
If Emery couldn't rapidly stabilize his squad's form...
A catastrophic, three-front collapse was a very real possibility.
They had just lost at home to Málaga in Matchday 20.
And now, they had to travel to face Atlético Madrid.
Both of these opponents were direct rivals fighting for the Champions League spots.
Atlético, in particular, was terrifying right now.
They had just slain Real Madrid at the Calderón.
Their momentum was volcanic.
But for Valencia...
This match was practically a must-not-lose.
If they somehow surrendered third place...
The psychological pressure on the Mestalla club would become unbearable.
Truthfully.
The fact that Valencia was even sitting in third place right now...
Was largely a testament to Unai Emery's tactical brilliance.
In the summer of 2010, Valencia had been forced to sell David Silva due to a crippling financial crisis.
In the summer of 2011, they were forced to sell Juan Mata for the exact same reason.
And this season, they hadn't made any marquee signings to replace them.
Selling your primary midfield playmaker in two consecutive summer windows...
And still maintaining a top-three standing in La Liga without the team imploding?
Emery undoubtedly possessed elite managerial pedigree.
Right now, he was meticulously studying the opponent who had suddenly rocketed up the table to threaten his position.
The conclusion was glaringly obvious.
Atlético's ferocious resurgence coincided exactly with Shane Carter's insertion into the starting eleven.
He had started four matches; Atlético had won four matches.
And after scoring a hat-trick against Real Madrid...
Shane Carter was now the most famous teenager in world football.
Emery spent hours looping tape of Shane's performances, desperately searching for a tactical blueprint to neutralize the American.
Valencia's offensive system relied heavily on their flanks.
The aggressive, overlapping runs of their wing-backs, Jordi Alba and Jérémy Mathieu, were the primary engines of Valencia's attack.
They were a team built to execute lethal, rapid transitions.
Given this profile...
Emery naturally considered adopting a more pragmatic approach for the away fixture: surrender possession, execute a suffocating high press in the opponent's half, and strike violently during defensive transitions!
This was the defining characteristic of the tactical system Emery had built at the Mestalla.
...
"They likely won't prioritize possession away from home, so we must be incredibly wary of their counter-press and transition speed!"
Inside the home dressing room of the Vicente Calderón...
Diego Simeone stood before his players.
"Their wide attacking threat is elite. The overlapping runs from Alba and Mathieu are highly dangerous. Furthermore, the central playmaking axis of Éver Banega and Roberto Soldado is crucial to their buildup... We must be incredibly disciplined. We absolutely cannot afford to turn the ball over in dangerous areas."
"Shane. They are masters of the high press. Your positioning today needs to be highly fluid. I need you to utilize your close control and passing range to constantly 'wash' the dirty balls! Break their press and secure possession."
Hearing the tactical directive, Shane nodded firmly.
Against a team that utilized a synchronized high press like Valencia...
The ability of a Number 8 to "wash dirty balls"—to receive poor passes under extreme pressure, retain possession, and distribute cleanly—was absolutely vital.
And within the current Atlético squad...
Shane was arguably the only player possessing the technical elite required to execute that specific role effectively.
The outcome of this match rested almost entirely on his shoulders. Whether he could successfully shatter Valencia's high press and rapidly transition the ball into the opponent's half would ultimately decide if Atlético secured victory at home.
"Gentlemen. Forget about the last match. Football does not operate on transitive logic. Beating Real Madrid does not make us the champions of Spain, nor does it mean we are suddenly immune to losing against teams weaker than Real Madrid. For us, beating Real Madrid was worth exactly three points. But beating Valencia today... is effectively worth six!"
Simeone paused, his dark eyes sweeping across the room.
"I imagine... all of you are quite eager to take another step up that league table."
Every single Atlético player in the room nodded in unison.
If there was a chance to climb higher...
Why wouldn't they fight for it?
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