Chapter 16: The London Spotlight
The journey to London was a different beast entirely. No more dusty transit buses or cramming into a danfo. The First Team traveled via a private, luxury train carriage. Mide sat across from Michael Carrick, who was quietly reading a tactical brief, while further down the carriage, Rio Ferdinand and Patrice Evra were engaged in a heated debate about who had the better fashion sense.
[System: "Location: En Route to White Hart Lane. Atmosphere: Tense. London is the heart of the English media, Mide. If you mess up here, the tabloids will have your head on a platter before you reach the M25 motorway. Current SP: 1,745."]
"First time in the Big Smoke, eh?" Carrick asked, looking up.
"Technically second, if you count Heathrow," Mide joked. "But first time seeing the sights."
"Don't look too hard," Carrick warned with a dry smile. "Tottenham fans are a lovely bunch. They'll greet you with a few choice words and maybe a stray meat pie if you get too close to the touchline."
The Pre-Match: The Scouting Report
As they pulled into North London, the bus was flanked by police escorts. Mide looked out the window at the old, compact streets of Tottenham. The fans were already lining the roads, many of them holding up "Who are ya?" signs directed at the new #42.
Inside the dressing room, Sir Alex stood in front of the whiteboard.
"Listen up! Spurs are playing a young lad on the left today. Gareth Bale. He's quick, he's got a left foot like a traction engine, but he's still learning his defensive duties. Mide, you're starting on the right wing today. I want you to run him ragged. Use that trickery of yours to force him into a mistake."
[System: "New Target Identified: Gareth Bale (Age 17). Current Stats: Pace 85, Crossing 78, Defending 62. Baba's Note: Oho! A battle of the 'Wonderkids.' He's faster than a runaway horse, Mide. If you try to outrun him, you'll look like you're running through fufu. Use your 'Oracle' to exploit his positioning."]
The Match: The Clash of Futures
The whistle blew, and White Hart Lane became a cauldron of noise. Mide's first few touches were under heavy pressure. Every time he got the ball, Bale was there, his long strides covering ground with frightening speed.
In the 22nd minute, Mide tried to beat him down the line. He used The Cheetah's First Step, but Bale matched him, shoulder-to-shoulder. The Welshman used his superior strength to shove Mide off the ball, winning a goal kick.
"Welcome to London, mate," Bale muttered as he jogged past.
[System: "Ego Damage: -5. Physical Gap detected. Bale is a natural athlete. You are a 'System' genius. Stop playing to his strengths! Trigger 'Phantom Step' on the next transition. Cost: 200 SP."]
Wait for it, Baba... now!
The opportunity came in the 38th minute. Scholes played a cross-field diagonal. Mide controlled it on his chest, facing Bale. The stadium held its breath. Mide started a slow, rhythmic step-over—once, twice—mimicking Ronaldo's style.
Bale planted his feet, waiting for the burst.
[Skill Activated: Phantom Step!]
Mide didn't go outside. He shifted his weight as if to shoot, then vanished from Bale's peripheral vision by dipping his shoulder and cutting sharply inside. By the time Bale's brain registered the movement, Mide was three yards ahead.
Mide looked up. The Spurs' center-back, Michael Dawson, lunged in. Mide didn't panic. He saw the "Ghost Lane" highlighting a gap between the keeper and the near post.
Thwack!
He didn't use the knuckleball this time. He used a "Trivela" flick, curling the ball with the outside of his boot. It bypassed Dawson, bypassed the keeper, and hit the side-netting with a satisfying hiss.
0-1.
The Celebration: The Royal Adjustment
Mide didn't celebrate wildly. He remembered the plan. He walked toward the corner flag, where the traveling United fans were going mental.
He stood tall, tucked one hand behind his back, placed the other over his heart, and performed the deep Yoruba Bow. As he rose, he slowly brought his hands to his temples, "adjusting" an invisible crown, and then pointed a single finger at the Tottenham fans.
The silence from the home crowd was the best music he'd ever heard.
[System: "QUEST COMPLETE: Silence the Lane. Reward: 300 SP. Reputation with Sir Alex: +10%. Media Buzz: 'The Crown Prince of Manchester.'"]
The Post-Match: The Media Circus
The game ended 2-0 after Ronaldo added a second from the penalty spot. As Mide walked off the pitch, a Sky Sports reporter shoved a microphone in his face.
"Olumide! Another game, another goal. You seem to be adjusting to English football incredibly fast. What's the secret?"
Mide wiped sweat from his brow and gave a cheeky grin. "The secret? Well, back in Lagos, the defenders don't give you space to breathe because they're trying to win money for their dinner. Here, I have a bit more room to think. It's quite relaxing, actually."
The reporter blinked, stunned by the audacity. "Relaxing? You just played 90 minutes of Premier League football!"
"I'm kidding," Mide laughed, tapping the microphone. "It was tough. Gareth is a great player. I just got lucky with the crown, I guess."
The Locker Room Joke
Back in the dressing room, the mood was electric. Rio Ferdinand was doing a mock version of Mide's bow.
"Look at him! 'It's quite relaxing!' You've got some nerve, kid," Rio laughed.
"Hey, Mide," Rooney called out from the ice bath. "I saw you talking to Bale after the whistle. What did he say?"
Mide started unlacing his boots. "He asked me where I got my haircut. I told him he shouldn't worry about his hair, he should worry about his left-back positioning."
The room erupted. Even the quiet Edwin van der Sar let out a deep chuckle.
[System: "Locker Room Chemistry: +20% (Maximized). You're becoming a cult hero, Oga. But don't get too big-headed. I just received a 'Watchlist' update from the Eagle's Nest."]
Mide's face went serious. What is it, Baba?
[System: "A young Victor Osimhen just had his first 'scout' interaction in Nigeria. A local agent is trying to sign him to a 10-year predatory deal. If you don't use some of that new 'Influence' and 'Weekly Wage' to intervene, the future of Nigerian football might be sold for a bag of rice."]
Mide stood up, his eyes cold. The "relaxing" part of the day was over.
"Bernard!" Mide shouted, looking for his agent in the hallway. "I need you to make a phone call to Lagos. Now."
[Current Status]
Name: Mide Adeyemi (MA10)
SP: 1,845
Goals/Assists: 2G / 1A (in 2 games).
Next Objective: 'The Intervention' (Save the Golden Seeds).