If Hoffenheim has been smooth sailing and happy these past two days, then Paris Saint-Germain should be feeling anxious. The day after the match between Hoffenheim and Bayern ended, news about Oliver came through. Initially, it was just routine monitoring of Oliver, but unexpectedly, the more they monitored, the bigger the problems became.
Today, in the luxuriously decorated office at the Paris Saint-Germain headquarters, a sense of oppression, incongruous with the exquisite decor, permeated the air. Sporting Director Antero Henrique's fingers drummed restlessly on the mahogany desk, the rhythm quickening, his gaze fixed on the key clips looping on the screen in front of him.
Oliver's long-range shot, like a sky-piercing arrow, piercing through Ulreich's grasp; His nimble escape near the corner flag at Anfield, followed by a match-winning assist; His confident changes of direction and imaginative passes when facing Bayern defenders…
"Bang!"
His fist finally couldn't hold back and slammed heavily on the desk, making the scattered documents and the coffee cup beside it jump. Henrique was truly infuriated. Across the desk, Pierre, the head of the youth academy, straightened his back even further, fine beads of sweat appearing on his temples. He had been called in by Henrique today to be held accountable.
"Pierre," Henrique's voice was not loud, but it was as cold as if frozen.
"Now, read to me, word for word, the conclusion you wrote in his dismissal report last spring."
Pierre's Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke with difficulty: "Oliver, 17 years and 106 days old, preferred position: right winger, U19 starting appearances, 5 times… Assessment conclusion: Mediocre technical talent, lacking explosive power in breakthroughs, insufficient physicality, unstable finishing ability. Team play awareness is acceptable, with certain highlights in positioning. Judged to have no potential to enter the first-team sequence or possess significant sale value, recommended for release…"
"Certain highlights in positioning…" Henrique's finger tapped heavily on the screen, producing a sharp sound.
"A player who can continuously score match-winning goals against Liverpool and single-handedly create three goals in one match to demolish Bayern Munich's defense, his biggest advantage, according to you, is 'certain highlights in positioning'? A 17-year-old kid, whom you describe as having mediocre technical talent and insufficient physicality, weaves in and out like a shadow amidst the strangling defense of those German giants, making our direct competitor (Bayern) dizzy?! Pierre, tell me, are our vast scouting network and the tens of millions of euros invested annually in our youth academy all blind?!" Henrique's rage was almost palpable.
At this moment, the video replay on the screen happened to freeze on Oliver's radiant smile as he exchanged jerseys with Muller after the match. A 17-year-old boy, in front of a top-tier giant, was as at ease as a core player who had been battling for many years.
Pierre's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty as he defended himself: "Mr. Director… At that time, in our U19 team, his data report indeed… indeed did not show such explosive performance as now. His positioning awareness and final ball handling always had highlights, but his overall ball-carrying ability, physical intensity, and shooting stability… after assessment, were indeed insufficient to…"
"Insufficient to?" Henrique's voice suddenly rose, carrying a tone of disbelief.
"So he went to Hoffenheim for an 'enlightenment crash course' these past three months? In two months, he went from 'insufficient' to being able to throw Liverpool and Bayern's defenses into chaos? A match-winning goal in the Champions League qualifiers, and single-handedly creating three goals against Bayern! Pierre, he was facing Mohamed Salah! He was facing Muller! He was facing Robben! He is now the 'Tough Match Kid' hyped by the Bundesliga media! You tell me this is 'insufficient'?!"
Pierre was left speechless by the questioning, his face turning from red to white as he rapidly flipped through his dusty assessment reports and training videos in his mind. When Oliver was at Paris Saint-Germain U19, he was indeed more like an opportunist. There were flashes of brilliant positioning and movement, but limited by Oliver's own physique and technique, these flashes were fleeting. They were far from the comprehensive threat he now displayed, which was capable of changing the game.
Especially in the right winger position, the Paris Saint-Germain youth team preferred players with strong ball-carrying ability and incisive attacking prowess. And Oliver's off-the-ball and penetration-focused style was not prominent in Paris Saint-Germain's data model at the time. Many such players were eliminated from Paris Saint-Germain's youth academy, but who could have predicted that this kid, after leaving Paris Saint-Germain, would be like a dragon entering the sea.
"Director, this… We admit that the assessment might… might have underestimated the eruption of some kind of… potential in him," Pierre carefully chose his words, answering cautiously.
"You know, the growth trajectory of young players is not linear; indeed, a portion of them experience a leap-like 'epiphany' phenomenon…"
"Epiphany?" Henrique snorted a cold laugh from his nose and retorted.
"So what you can't explain, you plan to attribute to metaphysics? He went to Hoffenheim, not Hogwarts! Nagelsmann is certainly not Dumbledore! How could he transform a mediocre young man in three months?"
He suddenly stood up, no longer looking at Pierre, but at the night view of Paris outside the window. However beautiful the night view, it couldn't improve his grim expression in the slightest.
"I don't want to hear these useless excuses anymore!" Henrique suddenly turned around, his sharp gaze fixed on Dubois as he spoke.
"You, immediately, use all resources! I want detailed video footage of every match he played in the past three months, every scout report, analysis data from every training session, changes in his physical indicators every week, and even changes in his diet and routine! Dig it up for me! I want to know what kind of sudden changes he experienced in his body, technique, mentality, and tactical understanding from the time he left Paris until he joined Hoffenheim! Not a single detail can be missed!"
Pierre nodded repeatedly as if granted a great pardon: "Understood, Director, we will immediately organize scouts to follow up!"
"Also," Henrique's voice calmed down slightly, he said.
"Regarding this 'Tough Match Kid,' provide me with a long-term report later. I want to continuously monitor the stability of his performance over the next three months, six months, or even a year, to determine if he is a fleeting flash of genius or truly possesses the qualities of a top-tier, consistently performing core player."
He walked back to his desk, his finger resting again on Oliver's young, handsome face on the screen, and continued to add.
"Most importantly, assess his possible change in positioning at Hoffenheim, his contract status, and… the feasibility of a buyback path."
Pierre's heart jolted. The Director was already considering a buyback? This was undoubtedly a difficult admission, especially within a highly invested youth academy like Paris Saint-Germain, acknowledging a major misjudgment of a potential asset required immense courage and cost. He looked at Oliver on the screen, that once marginal figure in the U19 team, who had now become a source of headache and anxiety for the entire Paris management.
And in the future transfer market, the value of this right winger would likely be incomparable to when he first left the club.
"Understood, Director, I will immediately initiate the highest priority assessment tracking system, and all developments concerning Oliver will be reported to you at the first opportunity." Pierre quickly adjusted his mindset and responded professionally.
Silence returned to the office, leaving only Oliver's brilliant goals and dribbling highlights playing repeatedly on the screen. Each time the ball found the net, it was like a heavy hammer striking Henrique's heart. He sank back into his large chair, rubbing his temples, the sense of anxiety not dissipating, but rather transforming into a more concrete pressure.
Paris could not afford to miss any true talent again, no matter what guise he appeared in before.
...
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