"Bjorn! Get over here!"
Coach Charles waved Theodore over as the post-match celebrations began to settle. Standing next to him on the touchline was a man who needed no introduction.
"Let me introduce you," Charles beamed, his chest puffed out with pride. "This is Aston Villa's first-team assistant coach, John Terry. But I'm sure you already know that."
"Of course," Theodore replied, keeping his cool despite the massive adrenaline dump.
"I grew up watching Mr. Terry anchor the defense."
A slight, knowing smile tugged at the corner of John Terry's mouth.
The Chelsea legend stepped forward, his presence immediately commanding respect.
"You've got a hell of a right foot on you, young man," Terry said, his voice gravelly. "Your passing is lethal. Reminds me a lot of Frank back in the day."
He paused, looking Theodore up and down. "But honestly? Frank didn't have your level of vision when he was seventeen."
Theodore felt a massive surge of validation. Coming from a Premier League icon, that was the ultimate compliment.
"Thank you, Coach," Theodore nodded respectfully.
"I'm just the assistant," Terry continued, his tone turning dead serious. "But I can promise you this: Coach Dean Smith is going to read my report tonight, and he's going to promote your ass to the first team. Pack your bags in the next few days. Get ready for the real league."
With a final nod, Terry turned and walked off the pitch with Charles, leaving Theodore standing there as the words sank in.
The second the coaches were out of earshot, the U17 squad swarmed him again.
Their faces were a mix of pure awe and burning envy.
His roommate, Kac, sprinted over and threw him into a violent headlock.
"Bjorn! I fucking told you!" Kac screamed, shaking him. "I told you my insider info was good! You're going to the first team!"
"Relax, Kac," Theodore laughed, trying to pry the Dutchman off. "Nothing is confirmed yet. It might just be talk."
"Bullshit!" Kac yelled, his eyes wide. "Did you not just hear John Terry?! He said you're better than a young Frank Lampard! Lampard! The engine of Chelsea and England! If you don't get promoted this week, I will literally wash my hair while standing on my hands!"
Nearby, the team's star striker, Terr, was looking genuinely depressed.
"Man, this sucks," Terr muttered, kicking the turf. "The second you go to the senior squad, my goal tally is going to completely dry up. Who the hell is going to drop those cruise missiles onto my head now?"
...
11:00 PM.
Aston Villa Senior Training Facility.
Inside his office, head coach Dean Smith was stressed out of his mind.
He was staring at the two-page technical analysis report John Terry had just slammed onto his desk.
SCOUTING REPORT: THEODORE BJORN
Age: 17 | Height: 183cm | Position: Midfielder
Analysis: Elite football intelligence and exceptional tactical awareness. Possesses an uncanny ability to map the pitch and find teammates in open space. Passing is dangerously precise—long-pass ability can instantly shatter defensive lines.
Showcases endless stamina, capable of high-intensity sprints and brutal tackles well past the 85th minute. Outstanding defensive work rate.
Recommendation: SIGN TO FIRST TEAM IMMEDIATELY.
Terry didn't just brought the report, he had emailed Smith the video footage of the Stoke City match.
After watching Theodore orchestrate the 4-1 slaughter, Dean Smith couldn't stay in his chair.
He was pacing the room.
He had found him.
This 17-year-old kid was the exact midfield engine he had been praying for!
And Smith needed him tonight.
During their Championship match just a few hours ago, Aston Villa's starting midfielder, Glenn Whelan, had been caught in a horrific challenge.
The team doctor's initial diagnosis was a badly torn ligament. Whelan was out for at least three agonizing months.
Smith was staring down the barrel of a brutal promotion race with a massive hole in his midfield.
He picked up his phone and dialed the youth academy.
...
11:30 PM.
Aston Villa U17 Player Dorms.
Theodore had just thrown his towel over his chair and was about to collapse into bed when someone started violently hammering on the door.
Kac jumped, nearly dropping his controller.
Theodore yanked the door open to find Coach Charles standing there, breathing heavily and looking absolutely manic.
"Bjorn! Grab your shit! You're going to the first team!" Charles barked.
Charles was practically vibrating with excitement.
He knew that discovering a talent like Theodore was going to secure his own job at the academy for years to come.
"Wait, what? Right now?" Theodore asked, blinking against the harsh hallway light. "It's almost midnight. Where the hell am I even supposed to sleep if I leave now?"
Kac didn't even look away from his TV screen. "Just go, man! It's Aston Villa! They probably have a five-star hotel suite with your name on it!"
"There's no time to explain," Charles said, pushing past Theodore to grab his duffel bag off the floor.
"The reason Dean Smith wants you at the club right this second is to sign a professional contract. If we get the paperwork done tonight, you might be legally cleared to play in the Championship match in three days."
"Three days?" Theodore froze.
He knew the system was fast, but he didn't expect to be thrust into a professional dogfight by Tuesday.
Just this morning, he was a nobody in the U17s.
"Move! I'm driving you myself," Charles urged, shoving the bag into Theodore's chest.
During the frantic drive to the main club facility, Charles quickly explained the crisis regarding Glenn Whelan's torn ligament.
"So wait," Theodore said, staring out the passenger window as the massive, illuminated silhouette of Villa Park loomed in the distance.
"Are you saying I might actually start my first game?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, kid," Charles shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "Whelan is out, but they have veteran substitutes fighting for that spot. At best, you'll make the bench. But then again... Smith loves throwing young blood into the fire. Nothing is set in stone."
Ten minutes later, the car pulled up to the entrance of Aston Villa's elite senior training complex.
Charles killed the engine and stared out the windshield, genuinely stunned.
"Well, I'll be damned. You really are the golden boy."
Standing out in the freezing cold night, waiting directly by the entrance doors, were Dean Smith and John Terry.
Charles quickly got out, leading Theodore over to the two men.
Dean Smith didn't waste time with formalities. He stepped forward and extended a firm hand.
"Theodore Bjorn. I'm Dean Smith, head coach of Aston Villa," he said, his eyes locking onto the teenager with intense gravity.
"From this exact moment forward, you are a first-team player."
Smith gripped Theodore's hand tightly. "I watched the tape. Terry tells me you've got a boot like Lampard's. We've got a war ahead of us in the Championship, and I am very eager to see what you can do on a real pitch. Welcome to the big leagues, kid."