Chương 37: 3.1 - The Banks Account

Soccer Supremo 3 The story so far: Max Best has led Chester FC to four consecutive promotions and this season they will compete in the Greatest League in the World™, the Championship, the second tier of English football. The women's team have made the same journey and will compete in the WSL 2. The away end at the Deva stadium has been demolished and a new £5 million stand is under construction. The training facilities at both Bumpers Bank and Saltney Town are coming online.

Saltney Town will play in the first qualifying round of the lucrative UEFA Champions League. The same is true for the champions of Gibraltar, College 1975. Max also has a financial interest in the success of Bruno's Magpies, who will take part in the UEFA Conference League qualifiers. West (West Didsbury&Chorlton AFC) will compete in the National League North, the sixth tier. However, the men's team will not be able to play on their home turf, as the stadium does not currently meet the league's requirements.

Max will need to find five million pounds to erect a suitable arena so that his club will have a home for the following season. However, he may be motivated to spend his money elsewhere - to ensure his mother has access to cutting-edge medical advances, Max has been told he has to buy a company based in Bedfordshire.

"Without contraries is no progression." William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell 1 - The Banks Account Wednesday, 16 June, 2027 Dear Dani, Picture the scene. It's halfway through May, the third day of the Exit Trials. I'm with Josh Owens, Cole Adams, and Tom Westwood. We have been to every day of the Trials because we're Max's secret weapon in signing the Exit Trial lads. All four of us got binned off by our academies and Max gave us a chance and now things are cooking.

Josh is at Wrexham and Ryan Reynolds likes his posts on Instagram.

Cole was the League One Young Player of the Year and he's close to getting called up for Ireland. Tom's won the Welsh Premier and he's going to sign for Saltney full-time and play in the Champions League. The more I compared myself to those guys, the more I saw myself as the odd one out. Why was I there? But there I was, and because the third day was in Manchester, millions of people had come to offer moral support. Mr. and Mrs. Yalley and half their church. That meant that Kisi was there, too, and Youngster.

If Youngster was going, Meghan would be there, which meant Sarah wanted to be around, but she spent most of the time off to the side with Wibbers. Sandra Lane, Aiden, and Jamie were keeping an eye on things, while the Brig was weirdly sat to attention the whole time, ready to snap into action when Max had a plan. I got the feeling that Max knew which players he liked right away but he was sort of pretending not to know for a while.

So for the first quarter of an hour of every match, Ruth was trying to distract the Brig. Oh, and because Emma was there, her best friend Gemma turned up, and because Gemma turned up, so did the Triplets. I mean, what a team you could make from that bunch! 4-4-2 plus lawyers on the bench, which is what you need in modern football, ha! Max was on his phone most of the time.

While Emma and I were at the drinks table getting the teas in for our mates, she told me he was trying to get loads of business done in those three days so he could have a proper break, and honestly most of the time he didn't even seem to be watching the games but every twenty minutes or so, he'd call someone over and say, 'What do you think of that winger?' or 'See that midfielder? Can you find his parents?'

Our mutual agent Ruth was 'neutral' so she was going round introducing herself to everyone, but Max didn't want anyone from Chester talking to anyone there at the Trial because the year I was in it, someone from the organisers was telling Bradford City about every player that Max was interested in. So this time, all the contacts were done later. I'm not sure how it happened but one time the Brig came over and said 'Wilfred and Josh, can you come, please?'

And we went to a cafe round the corner and talked to a couple of lads and their parents and told them how it was at Chester and how we're getting looked after and yes, we'd recommend it and all that. Apparently over the three days Max got seven players but they aren't coming to Chester so I'm not sure where they all went. Finally to the relevant moment: While all that was going on, Kisi and Meghan came over to us.

"Hello, boys," said Meghan, flirty and provocative. She knows how to get the lads to pay attention.

"Kisi and I have a question."

"Kisi and me," said Kisi.

"That's exactly our problem! We don't know which way is correct. One of you handsome boys must have done English at A-Level."

"Not me," said Tom Westwood.

"I wasn't allowed." Cole said, "What do you mean, you weren't allowed?"

"My English teacher said he would quit if I came back for more. He was a decent teacher so for the benefit of society, I stuck to what I was good at."

"What's that?" said Kisi.

"Dancing," said Tom, as he wriggled on his seat, clicking his fingers. I think he winked at Kisi. I said, "Kisi and I." Kisi's eyes lit up.

"Why do you say that, Banksy?"

"Because it's, like, you're the subject of the sentence. I think? And it's the other way when you're the object." Meghan knelt on the seat in front of me and leaned closer, head on her elbows, admiring me.

"You're the object of my affections, Banksy."

"Haha," I said, trying not to turn red. Kisi came to sit to my left and so all the action was on my end of the row.

"Banksy, you are kind and sweet and kinda sweet."

"Haha," I said.

"Meghan and I have got a mission for you."

"Meghan and me," said Tom, hopefully. Kisi ignored him; she only had eyes for me.

"The women's team try to keep Dani informed about what's going on around the club. Not just the usual Whatsapp groups - she's in those with us - but some of the gossip and the flavour and the texture."

"We're talking about longform," said Meghan. Tom opened his mouth to say something but she looked at him and said, "Don't."

"I don't get what you're saying," I said. Kisi said, "Here's the sitch, Wilf. We're all going on summer hols now but you and Tom - ""Tom and you," said Meghan.

"Will be coming back early."

"I will?" I said.

"That's news to me." Kisi shot a guilty look towards Max. He was busy on his phone.

"Er, yeah, it's just speculation, isn't it? I'm just thinking that if I was Max I would have you in mind for one of my madcap adventures." I looked to my right. Me and Tom. Tom and me? If Kisi was right, it would mean that Max wanted to loan me to Saltney Town for the season! I would get a league winner's medal and even better, I'd get to play in the Champions League! The qualifiers, anyway. My heart was pounding!

"But," I said.

"What about Rainman?"

"Owen? What about him?" said Kisi.

"I mean, he was at Saltney Town and he helped them to win the league so he should get the chance to play in the Champions League." Meghan eased away from me. No longer so keen to be seen in my presence!

"You think you can do squadbuilding better than Max Best? Kisi, he's a bad choice. He's off his head."

"I'm not - " I started.

"Of course I don't - " Kisi was giving me a sorrowful look.

"Might be an idea if you let Max do his thing while you concentrate on your thing. Your thing is to look pretty, go where Max tells you, smile, and then write down what happens in above-average grammar and send it to Dani."

"But hang on," I said, because they were getting up to go.

"What do you even mean? What am I supposed to write about?" The girls exchanged looks.

"When it happens," said Kisi, "you'll know." They giggled. Meghan tapped Cole on the knee.

"What about you? Do you know how to hold a pen? Think you can impress Dani?" I went, "I said I'd do it."

"Oh? Cool," said Kisi.

"That's that, then. Bye." They walked off, and I felt like they were waiting until they got round a corner to fall into each other and laugh. I don't think I was the only one who got that idea. Josh Owens went, "What was all that about?" Tom laughed.

"Banksy showed off and got given homework." He shook his head.

"That's why I always played dumb at school but I'm actually one of the few people in Chester who can keep up with Henri Lyons." Cole made a scoffing noise. Josh said, "But Banksy, what do you suppose it means?" I had to admit that I didn't have the first clue, and I spent a month thinking about it. Today it finally happened. I think it's fair to say no-one could have predicted how today would pan out.

On the drive home I've been watching videos about how to be a better writer so I'm gonna experiment with tenses until I find 'my voice'.

You wake up and find you have a text message from Henri Lyons. We'll pick you up in an hour. You get dressed and try to stay calm. Be calm, Wilfred Banks, Chester FC's fourth-choice goalkeeper! This is only the first day of the rest of your life! You decide this way of writing doesn't fit your personality.

Wilfred Banks hopped into the Chester-branded Seal Pup and greeted the other occupants.

"Hello former Chester striker, Max Best's best friend, Henri Lyons! Hello to the other League Two Legends!" Wilfred knew that Dani knew that the League Two Legends were a mercenary squad assembled by Max with the aim of guaranteeing success in League Two (to the highest bidder), but Wilfred mentioned it anyway.

"Hello to the defenders Jaylyn Cook and Lee Hudson! Hello to the midfielder Tyler Jansen!"

"Why are you talking like that?" said Lee Hudson.

"In case Dani doesn't know what positions you play," said the kind and thoughtful goalkeeper.

"I watched a TikTok about how it was better to do exposition through dialogue and apparently it's all right to fake it because people love unreliable narrators."

"Okay, but stop, it's so fake it's irritating."

"You're right. I'm trying to find my voice and failing." Henri checked the rear-view mirrors and said, "Banksy, you are not suited to the role of unreliable narrator. Just tell the story. We're in a premium electric mini-van heading north to Newcastle and none of us knows for sure what awaits us. We will spend much of the next three hours speculating. Our speculations will prove to be wide of the mark. Stick to your viewpoint. Be real and honest.

Your readers will thank you for it, especially if the only person reading this is Dani." Wilfred Banks hated writing in the third person and was glad of the advice. Wilfred was already exhausted from writing and decided to take the rest of the day off, but he knew that if he waited too long, all the EXCLUSIVE NEWS AND HOT GOSS would already be well known. Wilfred thought about Kisi and Meghan yelling at him and decided to keep typing even though, as a goalkeeper, he needed his wrists to please not fall off.

At first, the mood in the Pup was upbeat. Why would Max want five players to drive three hours to the far north if not to give them good news?

"Henri," I said, because even though he's quite intimidating in some respects, he's actually very easy to talk to. I was much more comfortable with him than, for example, Jaylyn. Jay didn't seem to be all that into being a League Two Legend and he admitted that the only reason he was there was that his wife thought Max was the bee's knees.

"Does this mean you're not staying at Tranmere?"

"Max is done with Tranmere," said the Frenchman, who knew more about preserved meats than almost anyone in the UK, and was a fast but safe driver.

"He advised Ruth, our agent, to allow our contracts to run down."

"Ruth's my agent, too! I didn't know we had the same agent! Is that why we're all here? Then why isn't Dani coming?"

"Ruth is Dani's agent? I didn't know that. What about Meghan?"

"Meghan? I don't know who her agent is." Henri rubbed his lips hard with his finger. Must have had a big itch.

"Ruth is a very good agent because she takes advice from Max but doesn't take shit from Max. In the past, she has used his recommendations to place three other players at Tranmere but this summer she has tried to move at least two of them away. Max has impressed on her a sense of urgency and while he is a drama baby, he doesn't move players away from good clubs for his personal amusement. The situation is grave."

"Is that because Diggy Doggy wants to take over?"

"Undoubtedly," said Henri. Tyler said, "I don't get it. What's wrong with Diggy Doggy?"

"Nothing, except insofar as it relates to running a provincial English football club."

"His money's as green as anyone's," said Jay.

"Greener," said Lee, and everyone in the Pup sang a chorus to a song but I didn't know the words and it made me feel weird. I was already two steps behind in the conversation.

"So you're leaving Tranmere?" Henri sat taller.

"Not necessarily. I will listen to my friend's advice and make up my own mind."

"Of course," I said.

"It's just that I'm trying to work out why I'm in the same Pup as you four."

"Pup?" said Jaylyn.

"Our big team bus is Sealbiscuit and these smaller ones are the Seal Pups." Jaylyn shook his head.

"Max is off the chain." Henri said, "We will arrive in Newcastle and Max will describe a proposal. No doubt he has been talking to a League Two club willing to pay a little extra in wages for a lot more success. Part of the deal, I suspect, will be that he wants you to be the starting goalkeeper."

"Haha," I said.

"So I'm a League Two Legend?"

"No," said Henri, briskly.

"We will remain in League Two. You will continue onwards and leave us behind." I couldn't understand how he could speak so bluntly.

"I don't know about that. I'm Chester's fourth-choice goalie. From what I know, I got the smallest pay increase offer this summer."

"Offer?" said Lee Hudson.

"You didn't sign your new deal yet?"

"No." Lee laughed.

"Are you touched in the head?" I found myself squirming.

"There are some things I wasn't sure about. I mean... Well, my dad read it." There was an uncomfortable silence, from my point of view. Henri had settled into a very cool 'motorway pose'. He said, "Talk to us, Banksy."

"So, er..." I looked at the other Legends and realised that they probably didn't know the whole story of how I signed with Chester. Why would anyone think to tell them?

"Max found me at an Exit Trial. He liked me, Sunday Sowunmi, and some other guys. Chip Star from Bradford was trying to poach everyone that Max liked and they came after us. Sunday's family were charmed by Wes Hayward, who vouched for Max, but everyone else took the offer of more money. I was all for going to Chester. It was so exciting! But my dad told me to ask for more money."

"Uh-oh," laughed Tyler.

"I know it was stupid," I said, "but it wasn't, really. Bradford offered me double!"

"Double," said Jaylyn, nodding.

"Double's good. Double's compelling."

"Right?" I said.

"My dad thought, hey, Max talks a lot but if he really wants you, he'll match that offer. So I asked and what does Max do?" Henri rubbed his nose.

"Everyone in the Pup knows what Max would do."

"He went scorched earth," I said.

"Bang. Gone. Seeya. Game over. But I was like, I don't actually care about the money - more would be nice, like - but I just want to know that Max actually thinks I'm good. So the Brig opens the channels of communication, Emma tells Max to get his head out of his wherever, and even Henri was helping me all the way from Brazil!"

"It was my pleasure, Banksy. Max raves about you. And you know what happened to the others. The ones who did go to Bradford City." Lee went into a hushed voice.

"No-one ever heard from them again." I nodded, gulping. It could easily have been me.

"But okay, that would have been bad, maybe, but... The thing is, Max promised that if I kept improving I'd get pay rises every year. But this one, this latest one, it only brings me up to what Bradford offered two years ago!" Henri said, "Are you comfortable telling us the number?" I wasn't really, but I started this whine, didn't I?

"Um... they're offering a thousand." Henri overtook a camper van.

"A thousand a week. You're 19, yes?"

"I'll be 19 this season."

"Lee, what would you have made of a grand a week at 19?"

"I'd have bitten your hand off, Henri. Where were you at?" Henri said, "At 19 I was on much more money. I was regarded as a hot prospect, remember. I had some good times, but the dip that followed was needlessly painful. I can't say I would recommend the career path I took. Banksy's will be a lot more satisfying." Lee agreed.

"What's... What makes you hesitate about signing your deal?" Good question. I looked out of the window.

"Um... Well, I don't a hundred percent know what everyone else is getting but I think I'll be the lowest in the whole squad. That's not motivational, is it? And we went from League One to the Championship and I'm only being offered another 200 quid a week. It seems... low. I don't want to sound greedy. I know it's not a rich club and all that but some of the lads are absolutely buzzing off their new deals.

People are saying Wibbers is on 7 grand a week, which is amazing for him but we were in the same Youth Cup team."

"He's a striker," said Jaylyn.

"Flair player. Phenomenon. You're a goalie. He's a hare, you're a turtle, you know? Slow and steady wins the race. Guys like Roberts, they flame out in five years." Henri said, "Not the way Max looks after him."

"No, but in general. Goalies start late, play longer." Henri said, "I agree with you, Jay, but Banksy knows all this. I am intrigued as to the real cause of his hesitation." He glanced at me before turning his attention back to the road.

"I'm the fourth-choice goalie at Chester, right? It's not a lot of validation. And I'm the lowest-paid player in the first-team squad."

"You don't know that," said Henri.

"I'm there or thereabouts. So I'm not really rated by Max and I can't say to my dad, hey, things are going great." Henri nodded.

"I follow what you are saying. From what I remember of your father, he puts a lot of trust in the width of one's pay packet. If you are paid this much, you are valued this much. It's hard to disagree, to be perfectly frank. When it comes to Rainman or Sunday or Omari or Tom, the link between the wage and the perceived ceiling is hard to refute. Max has told me several times that the amount he pays in wages is linked to the extent to which he fears losing the player." He rubbed his eye.

"We could be remedial and say he fears losing Wibbers seven times the amount he fears losing you. But honestly, that doesn't pass the sniff test. Max can't reject a fifteen-million-pound bid for a player and tell him there's no money to pay him. Have there been any fifteen-million-pound bids for you, Banksy?"

"Don't think so."

"When I get Max drunk, he wistfully lays out possible Premier League elevens based on the current squad. Wibbers is in it, but so are you. I am no expert in goalkeeping but it seems to me you develop more slowly than outfield players and there are fewer opportunities to give you minutes. Wibbers can play appallingly badly, as he did in the cup final, and score the winning goal and see his value increase. A goalkeeper has no such luxury.

My read is that you have to be patient, but if you think Max doesn't rate you, pfah." He made a dismissive noise with a gesture to match. Lee said, "We'll find out soon, won't we?" Tyler looked out all the windows.

"Why's he hiding out in Newcastle? What's he been doing all this time?"

"Uh," I said.

"It could be wedding planning." There was utter silence, until Henri said, "Pardon me?" I rubbed my arm.

"You know he's getting married next May, right? End of May."

"I have not been informed of the date," said Henri.

"I have," I said, "because it was in my contract." Another silence.

"What?" said Lee.

"So, ah, my new contract. It's one of the reasons my dad was like, hey, let's wait to see if the guy has lost his marbles for good before we sign this. There's a new section that says a few strange things. It's basically like, yeah you get a pay rise but you're not allowed to plan a wedding for May 2028. You're not allowed to do a public engagement in May 2028. We checked what engagement actually means and it's that you're not allowed to ask anyone to marry you in public. Like, um, what?

And also we're not allowed to leave the country until May 28th, so we think the wedding's on the 27th." Jaylyn shook his head.

"This guy." Lee said, "I think it's romantic." Henri said, "I think it's Crewe." Then they talked about which League Two club we would be offered the chance to join. It had to be one with a 'weak' goalie, Henri reasoned, so that 'even Banksy could take his spot'. (He didn't say 'even', but that's what he meant.) And he had heard that Max had been talking to Crewe recently. We became convinced it was Crewe. The mood dipped.

Henri knew the way, not just to Newcastle, but to the house of Emma's parents, where Max had been holed up for half the summer. We pulled into their drive, and wow, what a beautiful property! While Henri unplugged Max's car from the electric charger, he sighed.

"She isn't the biggest, but she is well-proportioned, incredibly tasteful, and has a great view from the rear. Now, here's the question: am I talking about the house or Emma's mother?" I actually gasped.

"Henri!" I said. He looked disappointed in himself.

"I know, I am sorry. I am weak, and so shall you be. I prefer to vent my lecherous thoughts out here and talk poetry in there. She is simply wonderful, Banksy. If I were not deeply in love, believe me, there would be a scandal. A scandal, I say! And I would regret none of it. But once I cross the threshold, I will stay strong. I advise you to do the same."

"Er, yeah, I will, thanks. It'll be easy."

"Right, yes," he said, absently, as he stuck the charging cable into the Pup.

"Because of your crush. I forgot."

"Wait, what?" I said, but he was already striding forward. I feel like you have probably met Emma's mum (Rachel) because you're more in Max's world than I am, but she's basically her daughter but older. I'm not sure either of them would like that description! I mean it as a compliment, though. They're both amazing. Beautiful and cool and funny but Rachel makes you feel more safe. Like, she won't pretend to be the Queen of Iceland or pretend she has never heard of poker and make you keep explaining it.

Rachel met us at the door and asked us to come in quietly because Max was on a call. We went into their house and it was all open-plan. On the left, a lovely living room with gorgeous sofas and a big telly. On the right, a kitchen that opened up to the side garden. Max was on a stool on a kitchen island that he had turned into his office for the summer. There were scraps of paper everywhere, Post-It notes, pens and markers and notebooks. I couldn't work out what the hell he had been up to.

My first thought was that he was drafting a letter to you so that Kisi wouldn't yell at him! (That wasn't my first thought. That popped into my head just now. My first thought was: my mum would kill him if he tried this at our house.) He looked okay. Not very relaxed considering he'd just had a complete break from football for a month, but he was moving slowly and easily and talking slowly, too.

That was a good sign, and of course it didn't take me long to realise his complete break from football had lasted maybe eight minutes. Those Post-Its weren't recipes for scones! (I've just remembered that my first thought was that he had spent the summer baking, maybe in preparation to do a celebrity baking show.) Rachel whispered that she'd make cups of tea when the call was over because otherwise the kettle would be too loud, and she brought us water and orange juice and told us where the bathroom was.

Jay and Tyler were getting ready to do some flirting with Rachel, I could tell, but soon we realised that Max was on the phone to Don Pino, one of the world's most famous football agents.

"I don't care, mate. He's rank. He's rancid." Cue bulging eyeballs around the sofas. You don't talk to Don Pino like that about his clients!

"Oh," said Max, literally slumping onto the counter.

"Who do you think you're talking to? You can't dump your epic fails on me, DP. The guy's a grade A mard arse. What difference does it make what his passing stats are? Mard arse? It's a guy who, ah, complains a lot. He's always throwing his arms up in the air, your guy. You know what I'll do?

I'll get my people to put together a supercut of all the times he throws his arms in the air when someone on his team makes a mistake, then I'll do another one of all the mistakes he himself makes, then I'll do a third one of him seemingly complaining about a team mate but it's interspersed with his own mistakes. Trust me, it'll be comedy gold. Oh, you don't think you'd find it funny? Look, the guy's a clown and I'd love for you never to mention him again." Yeah, definitely not recipes for scones.

Max suddenly sat up straight.

"Antman? Do you know how much I'd love a player called Antman? Think of the marketing!" He listened while slumping back to the countertop.

"Well, he's amazing, but we can't afford him. No, I'm basically tapped out. Yeah but I'm buying ice baths and shit. Anyway, the problem with this conversation is that all your clients would take up an ESC slot and I don't have any left." As a team in the Championship, Chester could sign four foreign players on special work permits called ESC. Max saying we didn't have slots free was surprising because as far as I knew, we had at least one. Max frowned as Don Pino spoke.

"English passport? That sounds amazing. What... Oh, for fuck's sake! I don't like him, DP! I don't like him! He's toxic, okay? I don't have the energy to deal with someone like that this season. On loan, too! I have to fucking suffer for a year so you and his club can get rich off my hard work? No way. I need to warn you that I'm about six words away from falling out with you on a long-term basis. Maybe we should end this call." I couldn't hear Don Pino's voice change, but I could sense it by the way Max untensed.

"Well, it's our first go in the Championship, right? Step up in difficulty and it's nothing like we've had before. There are three or four teams we literally can't compete with. Which ones? Crystal Palace, Wolves, Ipswich, and Luton will all be getting parachute payments from the Premier League and even if they waste 80% of that money, they will still batter us. Relegation? No chance of that, but we might lose more games than we win, which would be, you know, depressing. Anyway, that's whatever.

For the men's team, this season's all about next season, if you get me.

"What else? I've got my latest European adventure, I've got my UEFA Pro coaching course to do, the women's team are turning pro, there's a new stand coming online. I want to win the Youth Cup again. I'm going to go hard at my analytics company. Er... I need to make sure Wales qualify for Euro 28. Some other stuff, too. I'm basically going to be the busiest man who ever lived and I don't have the capacity to rehabilitate a spoilt brat on top of everything else.

Oh, and at the end of the season, I'm getting married and going on a long honeymoon and Emma has requested I do a stamina build for that. Um, yeah, never mind." He picked up one of his notes and sat up a little straighter.

"I tell you what, though. If I can keep giving Nasa and Tomzilla minutes I'll have a couple of ESC slots free in January so in theory we could do business then. Maybe I'll pop over to a Transfer Room." Those were events where football bosses met to discuss transfers and from what I'd heard, hundreds of agents waited outside, like sharks, and from what I heard, Max was the only guy at those events who wasn't afraid of them.

"Yeah, good, cool, keep in touch. Seeya." Max stayed still for a minute, staring at nothing, until Henri coughed. Max turned slowly, blinked at us, and out came the big grin.

He rushed around giving fist bumps and hugs. Henri shook his head at the mounds of notes but smiled when he picked up a book.

"Have you been reading Blake?"

"Skimmed it," said Max.

"I like the font." Henri held out his arms for another hug.

"The bird a nest, the spider a web, man... friendship." Max smiled like you would do with a crazy person.

"Birds make nests, that's right, Henri. Very good." That made Henri tense up, but Rachel laughed and then Max hugged Henri. Not totally sure what all that was about, but tea solves every problem. Max offered to brew up for everyone and to be fair he was the one who put the kettle on, but he made me get the mugs and the teabags and he monitored me while I did all the work. (Don't crush the bag like that! Don't pour so fast, what is this, Niagara Fails? Not straight onto the bag! Do you want it to explode, man?! Stir it. Not that fast! I didn't say to blend it, did I? Stir! Gently agitate the water. Imagine the flavour is a shy mermaid you are trying to coax out from behind her rocks.) The craziest thing was that while Lee, Jay, and Tyler thought Max was being an over-the-top perfectionist as a joke, Henri was into it.

"You must stir the water, of course you must. Remember what Blake said." Rachel said, "The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction." Stolen novel; please report. Henri melted.

"That's perfect. I was going to say: expect poison from the standing water."

"Poison is French for fish," said Max.

"You have used that one before," complained Henri.

"Oh, have I?" Max seemed genuinely worried, which I didn't understand at the time but later I remembered that he's always worried about things that might be wrong in his brain. Henri got us over that little bump in the road by producing some exotic hams and a few pieces of fancy cheese that Rachel cooed over.

"Will I put out a plate?" Max waved in the general direction of either Scotland or Sunderland.

"We're going..."

"Oh, yes." Rachel took a sip of her tea.

"That's lovely, Wilfred. Great cuppa!" My new quest in life was to learn how to make tea the Max Best way! If it got compliments from beautiful women! What was it, something about mermaids? I realised that the event, whatever it was, was starting. Since Kisi had teased me at the Exit Trial, I had spent hours a day wondering what would happen, and finally my long wait for answers was nearly over.

"Lads," said Max, as he returned to his spot at the end of the kitchen island. We fell into place around him.

"I've got a big idea. I'm fizzing with ideas. Do you know what day it is?"

"St. Swithin's Day?" I guessed. Max glared at me.

"It's the day the Champions League draw will be made! They're doing the first two rounds in one go. I'll know half the path! And from that, I'll be able to make a thousand decisions. Couple of days properly hitting the phones and then I'll actually be able to have a proper break."

"What have you been doing?" said Henri, flicking his finger across lots of cryptic Post-It notes.

"This reminds me of when you went tonto back in Darlington."

"I'm not going tonto," said Max, snippily.

"I have assumed the role of the celestial clockmaker."

"Divine watchmaker," mumbled Henri.

"Yeah, him. Squadbuilding for all our teams. Free agents, loans, transfers, the right name in the right list, bringing order where once was chaos. I, Max Best, have ascended. Today is the culmination of my, er..." He clicked his fingers a few times.

"Banksy, you smashed your English exams. Think of a word to finish that sentence. Something grandiose."

"Today is the culmination of your grandiosity," I said. Max liked that. He closed his eyes and I think he tried to make himself levitate. Henri seemed to sense some kind of system underlying all the notes and scraps of paper.

"How many squads have you been building?"

"Oh," said Max. The question caught him off guard.

"If we say Chester Men, Women, and the under 18s count as three... That makes..." He counted on his fingers, which I thought was a joke until he nodded and said, "Ten."

"Ten!" spluttered Henri.

"Does that include Tranmere?"

"Jesus Christ," said Max.

"Of course it doesn't. They're dead to me. Jackie's still there, and so's Vimsy, and I like the fans, but no. When the sale of the club goes through, it's a matter of time before they crash back to League Two and maybe it'll be a double drop to the National League. I could see that. They need to strengthen this summer but they're getting much, much weaker." He slapped his hands together.

"To business! I need to say up front that I'm waiting for a call and it's urgent, okay? Even if I'm in the middle of an all-time classic monologue, I'm gonna drop it and take that call." Henri was rubbing his head.

"You've been squadbuilding for ten clubs. Seven plus Chester. Have you been making Rachel's life miserable?"

"No," said Emma, who had come from the shapely, well-proportioned rear of the house. She put her arms around her mum and said, "That's my job." Rachel said, "Max is a lovely boy. He has been helping me in the garden." Emma detached from her mum and picked specks of fluff from her future husband's shirt before smoothing it out. So sweet! Life goals.

"He pulls out two weeds then stares at the holes he's made for fifteen minutes. I mean, it's helpful. At least it keeps him out of the house." Tyler said, "What does he do in the house?"

"He spreads apples." We didn't expect her to say anything like that, so we laughed.

"He'll grab an apple, wash it, and carry it off to the telly or the bedroom or somewhere he can read a book and he'll fall into a trance and rush back here and scribble his notes and forget the apple." Jay was pointing to the armchair of a sofa.

"There's one there." Emma smiled.

"Right. It's like having a tracker on him. Oh, here's a core next to a book of William Blake poems. Where did he go next? Here's a pristine apple next to a bay window. And then...? Ah, yes. He brought the fruit basket to the sofa when Cash In the Attic was on. Hey, Banksy, did you sign your contract yet?"

"Um," I said, and I'm pretty sure I blushed. It's like my face isn't on my side sometimes, you know? Henri said, "He is confused by the clauses relating to weddings. Why should he not ask a girl to marry him in May 2028?" Max frowned.

"Have you seen a movie? Any movie ever? Any TV show? The big wedding gets ruined by some idiot who makes it all about him or her. This is Emma's special day and no-one's going to ruin it."

"Our special day, babes." Henri said, "You are worried about what? As we sit for the best man's speech, someone will stride to the front and propose?"

"Yeah, that's exactly it. If you want to propose, do it in your own castle. My castle, my rules. Do you know what I mean? Ruin someone else's wedding, not Emma's."

"Ours, babe."

"There will be no impromptu speeches at my wedding. I'm deadly serious. I've asked the Brig to get some tranquilliser darts so we can shoot anyone who even stands up at the wrong time. The Brig's not keen but Briggy will be into it. She'd love to shoot someone at my wedding." Henri was shaking his head.

"I would not have expected to say this, but I prefer you daydreaming about your wedding to this squad building." He plucked off a Post-It. Max snatched it back and returned it to its proper place.

"It's not as bad as it looks. Okay, are we ready to start? I kind of want to get the video call done before so I can give you my full attention but I'm not sure what time she'll call."

"She?" said Tyler. Max rubbed his chin.

"I've gone goalkeeper crazy. I want to buy the best women's goalie in the world but I basically can't get a work permit for a foreign player until we're in the top tier. So my choices are limited. The best one I could possibly get is out in Brazil for the Women's World Cup. My mate Chelli is there making the introductions, sneaking in contraband to the camp, all that kind of stuff."

"Wait," I said.

"You don't mean you want to sign one of the England goalies?"

"Yeah," said Max. Dani, you might not believe this but my first thought was of you.

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"What? No. I didn't ask Father Christmas for a new goalkeeper, did I?"

"You did, actually," said Emma.

"So I've got an exclusive," I said. I have no idea why I said it out loud, and no idea why I kept blabbing.

"What a scoop!" Max eyed me.

"If you so much as think about telling anyone what you hear today, I will turn you into a pin cushion for tranquilliser darts."

"I won't tell anyone," I said, calmly. Inside, I was bouncing. I won't tell anyone, but I can write it in an email to Dani. Loophole! Max knew something was up. He frowned, pointed at me, and looked for help.

"What's he doing? He's doing something."

"Banksy," said Emma, coming over to me and rubbing my arm.

"Sign da ting, yeah? Everyone else, I'll see you in a bit. I'm going to do some work."

"What are you working on?" said Lee.

"Contracts," said Emma.

"Enough contracts for players across ten squads. Including yours," she said, giving him a cheeky smile.

"What language is it in?" he said, hoping for a clue.

"Ha," said Emma.

"That's a good question." Emma sashayed out. Everyone watched her go, but Max only glared at me. Not quite fair.

"So where are we going?" said Henri.

"Okay," said Max, clapping his hands.

"So, there's different parts to it. You four are going to be free agents which makes a huge difference to my planning because you can sign for a club that's in European competition for a couple of months, play in the qualifiers, get released, get picked up by a club for the rest of the season." The mention of European football got everyone's attention. Now it made more sense why he had asked us to come on the day of the Champions League draw. My heart was pounding, Dani!

In my mind I had gone from being Chester's fourth-choice goalie to being wanted for a match in Europe's premier competition! What the blinking heck!

"It's what we did with Magnus last season, and I'm leaning into it even more this time. Magnus is gonna sign for Saltney Town as a free agent. So's Sticky."

"Sticky!" I said, amazed.

"What?" said Max.

"But... But he's our second-choice goalie. And he's our goalie coach! He's brilliant. We can't lose him!" Max stared at me like I was crazy.

"Have you been to Saltney, mate? You can kick a ball from Bumpers Bank right into Saltney Town's new stadium. It's just there."

"But he'll be playing for Saltney. He might as well be a million miles away."

"No," said Max, with fake patience.

"I've split his contract in half. He gets paid by Saltney Town to play football for them, and he gets paid by Chester FC to be the head goalkeeping coach." My head was spinning so I could barely take in what he said next, but he was very excited about it.

"I've done that with all the player-coaches! They get separate deals for being a player and being a coach. Colin Beckton got a pay rise but I've specified what his coaching salary is, so when he retires from playing I'll just keep paying him the coaching money and we won't have an awkward conversation about why his wages are suddenly half what they used to be." Rachel was to the side, surreptitiously nibbling on something.

"Why are you talking about Saltney Town, Max? That's not relevant to this group, is it?"

"Um," said Max.

"Not directly, no." He gestured to the mass of notes.

"It's all connected, though. It's hard to talk about one thing and not all the other things." He paused.

"Are you eating ham? We're going out for lunch."

"So?"

"So you'll ruin your appetite."

"So?" She looked just like Emma in that moment! Max was busy smiling at her when Lee said, "Can I try some of that ham?" Max didn't like that. He put up his index fingers, sternly.

"No ham. We're going to talk about your future and you're going to agree with me and you're going to go to the clubs I suggest and we're going to a posh restaurant in Newcastle to celebrate and I want you hungry. Right, back to basics. A few weeks ago, I got a call from Gwen at the Welsh FA. She wanted me to meet this rich guy who owns Newport County."

"Ugh," said Jay, and he took a couple of steps away, turned around, put his hands on his head. Max didn't seem bothered.

"The dude owned Swansea ages ago, and he took them from the fourth tier to the Prem. They finished in the top ten one year. Rachel, that's amazing. That's what I aspire to do, right? And he did it with a Welsh club so he's very well-liked in the FAW. He has been trying to do it with another Welsh club - Newport County, obvs - but it hasn't been going well. The first time was magic, right? Alchemy. He's trying to do it again but without the same chemicals, the same catalysts. So Gwen said, hey, get Max to help."

"Why does she care?" said Henri.

"Newport play in the English leagues."

"Because the owner is trying to get success by having Welsh managers, Welsh coaches, and Welsh players. You know in Soccer Supremo when you start a new save and you think, I'm only going to pick players called Max? I used to do it by only signing English youngsters because I wanted to have the whole England team at one club. I didn't have the discipline to stick to those plans, though. As soon as a hot Swedish under-21 popped up on a scouting report, that was it. But Newport are trying to go all-Welsh."

Henri was frowning.

"They are not in League Two. They didn't get promoted, did they?"

"No, they're in the National League. They had one of the three best teams but couldn't get over the line. The National League is too crazy to have principles like going all-Welsh and that's where I come in, and that's where you come in. If you join Newport County, they will crush the National League and with my help they will immediately crush League Two while adding even more Welsh players." Henri and Jay got a little less defensive. Jay said, "You want to go back to back?"

"The offer on the table is a two-year contract. Rachel, that's relatively rare at that level of football. It's security for the players but insecurity for the clubs."

"Don't they want to know which players they will have next season?"

"Sure, that'd be nice, but what if Henri breaks his leg? What if Tyler's form falls off a cliff? You've got yourself some dead weight and small clubs can't afford it. Agreeing two-year contracts with players the wrong side of 30 is a massive show of trust. Massive." Jay had gone from hating the very name 'Newport County' to being mildly interested.

"It's a step down, Max."

"It is."

"You want us to be the League Two Legends. I'm the wrong side of 30, sure, but Tranmere Rovers want me to play in League One, you feel me? It's not even dropping down a league. It's dropping two leagues."

"I can't argue with that," said Max.

"But it's my opinion that Tranmere are about to have one of the single worst seasons any of us are likely to see. Like, if Mateo was still running the show and listening to my advice, I'd probably still want you to drop to League Two because it's way more fun to play every week and win every week than to be a squad player in a struggling side. But I'd understand if you chose the higher league, yeah. This isn't that situation, though. Seriously, Tranmere are in big, big trouble and you don't want to be there."

"Aight," said Jay, though I couldn't tell from his tone whether he agreed.

"Forget League One. Look at League Two. There are options for us there. Clubs who will give you all contracts and who will let you miss the start of the season while you play in Europe." That tease again!

"But those clubs aren't very ambitious."

"Crewe," said Henri.

"No," said Max.

"They would need you four and five others. They don't have the cash or the ambition. One option would be Carlisle. They've got the budget and the ambition but the guys there aren't all that keen to take my advice. There's one of you they don't want and that's worrying because okay you could go there and be their best player in that position but if they have a couple of bad results their stupidity might rear its ugly head, you know? No, Newport County tick all the boxes.

Also," he said, turning to me, "it's a level where Banksy can play every week."

"Oh," I said, somehow taking this long to wake up to my role in all this.

"Newport County. National League."

"Yeah. You'd be the best goalie in the league when you join, which is the only way to guarantee you minutes, right, because most managers won't use a 19-year-old keeper. You'll get match experience, you'll get roughed up on corners and all that, you'll have to toughen up and fast, but you'll have this lot looking after you and in a couple of months you'll be absolutely outstanding and you'll be playing in a dominant team.

You'll be playing in the best team in the National League, which will make you the best team in the FA Trophy." Again, everyone's interest levels rose. Rachel spotted it.

"Is that the one you won, Max?"

"No, that's the EFL Trophy. The football league trophy. The FA have their own things. You've heard of the FA Cup. That's the big one and it's for every club in the country. The FA Trophy is only for tiers 5 to 8, so if you're the best team by far in tier 5, you have an amazing chance to get to Wembley."

"Oh, the final is at Wembley?"

"Yeah. Chester didn't have the squad depth to go for it so I had to bin it off but these guys will have total freedom to attack the league and the cup. Now, look, guys. I have to be upfront about one thing. The owner of Newport County is going to give me a bonus if I help them get promoted, but the bonus is way bigger for getting them promoted from League Two so my interest is long-term, right?

I've got you a two-year deal in a lovely part of the world with fans who will fucking love you in a town that's ready to be excited. You'll smash the league and you should smash your way to Wembley. Newport have been in League Two for most of the last decade so they've got good training facilities and all that.

"I genuinely think this is the best thing you could do with your careers now, and it's certainly the most fun you can have. If Gwen had asked me to take a look at Newport as a favour, I would have come to the same conclusion. I didn't ask for money. The guy offered! And the best part is that I've got all these talented Welsh kids coming through the ranks at Saltney and there are far too many for Saltney to absorb.

I can skim off the cream and send the rest to Newport, which I reckon will bounce between Leagues Two and One for the next decade with a mostly-Welsh team. Like, it's a pure win-win-win, but just because it is objectively a step down from Tranmere, I'm going to bribe you with the offer of European football." Henri was smiling.

"Which club and which competition?" Max pointed to his laptop.

"It depends on the draw. I have you pencilled in at Bruno's Magpies."

"Oh," said Rachel.

"That's mine. I own that!" Tyler's mouth dropped open.

"You own a football club in Gibraltar?"

"Yes. They play in black and white like the Toon." Jay said, "Max, do you have the authority to offer us spots in Rachel's football club?" Max put on a boyish expression.

"Mrs. Weaver? Please can I send you five players who are much better than the ones you've got?" Rachel thought about it.

"If I'm allowed to eat this ham in peace, yes."

"Bosh," said Max.

"What's going on?" said Tyler. Henri said, "Max is a consultant for three clubs in Gibraltar. Two are in UEFA competitions. College 1975 are in the Champions League, while Bruno's Magpies are in the third rank, the Conference League. For you, it is exciting new territory. For me? Old news. I have played in the Conference League before," he sighed.

"And conquered it."

"Oh, you don't wanna come this time?" said Max, shuffling through his notes.

"That's cool. Where are my backup strikers? Somewhere here. Junior? Chipper?"

"Chipper?" spluttered Henri.

"You 'ate Chipper!" Chipper was a Welsh striker Max had signed once and almost immediately fell out with. You probably knew that, but you might not know that when they were playing against each other, Chipper wrecked Max's ankle. Max held up a finger.

"That reminds me. Chipper's going to Newport."

"What!" cried Henri, Lee, and one very startled goalkeeper. Max was amused by our reaction.

"I don't have to play with him, manage him, talk to him, or even look at him. If you want a strikeforce to get you from National League to League One, Henri Lyons and Chipper is as good as any." Rachel said, "I don't want Chipper in my team, Max. I want Henri."

"Okay, that's sorted then," said Max, pretending to tick a box.

"Don't I get a say?" said Henri.

"You get to say yes."

"Who else is for the Magpies? I don't know many of the players."

"You do," said Max.

"Glenn Ryder, Tavares, Zafari. The whole gang's there." Henri couldn't tell if this was another joke.

"They play for College."

"Nah, I moved them all to the Magpies."

"What!" This was the most amazing thing yet. He had moved an entire squad from one club to another! Was I hearing this right? Max was puzzled by our reaction.

"What's...? Look, it's simple. The Champions League is hard. If you control three squads, you move the best guys to the squad that's in the toughest competition to give them the best chance of success. College 1975 now has three of the Gibby national team, two of the best prospects in the league, and it's getting the cream of the guys on loan from Bayern Munich. The Magpies will have a squad of guys with Conference League experience plus you guys, Wes Hayward, and Stefan Clown."

"Who's that?" said Henri.

"Midfielder from Bayern Zwei. He's a good player but he's not even close to getting first team minutes and he's ambitious so I thought... Hey, the call's coming through. Got to take this, soz."

Henri took the other Legends outside and they wandered around the side of the house to the massive back garden, but I went to sit on the sofa so I could listen to the call. I missed the start because I could barely concentrate. Max had been squadbuilding for ten sides, and every decision had a butterfly effect.

Sticky had gone to Saltney on a free transfer which meant Max had a top goalie for his Champions League squad which meant he could use his loans for outfield players, which meant Rainman was the second goalie at Chester, which meant I was the third. But if I was the third, he couldn't loan me to Newport County for a season. Newport County via Bruno's Magpies, which was owned by Emma's mum! Max had said he was crazy for goalkeepers. That had to mean he would sign a replacement for Sticky, right? Maybe on loan?

That could have been the call from Don Pino. I've got a goalie you can loan for the season! Then Sticky would come back and we would all be back to the start. Except I would have overtaken Rainman, right? If he was stuck in Chester, warming the bench, playing in the Cheshire Cup, and I was out winning the National League, playing in Europe, playing at Wembley, I would shoot ahead of him. I got excited but I got nervous, too, because I didn't understand it. Not really.

I tuned in to the video call and tried to work out who he was talking to, with no success. I got up and tried to wander behind Max towards the sink, but when I saw who was on the screen I blurted out, "Oh my God! That's Haley Goodhew!" Max smiled at me.

"She knows that, mate."

"I'm sorry! Sorry, Haley." Haley was England's third-choice goalie and she was out in Brazil getting ready for the World Cup. She hadn't played for the Lionesses yet but I had seen her in action and really rated her. She was six foot one, so compared to most of the female players she was massive, which meant she dominated her penalty area. She was agile, too. Good shot-stopper, good with the ball at her feet, and she was 31 so she had loads of experience. It made a lot of sense that Max wanted her. A lot of sense.

She was from Lancashire somewhere and had a deep voice and a dry sense of humour. Classic goalkeeper!

"That doesn't happen to me very often," she said. Max laughed.

"Yeah, but Banksy's a goalie himself. A good one. Game recognise game, yeah? I've been teaching him to make tea."

"Oh, right," laughed Haley.

"Something tells me you're very particular."

"Making tea is a lot like building a football team," said Max.

"You have to start with... Ah, shit. That didn't go anywhere." Max laughed at his lame attempt to do a metaphor, then eyed me. Like, why are you still there? I went to the sink and put my cup down and didn't know what to do next. I sat on a stool near the patio doors so I could slip outside if me being there was annoying to Max. He didn't seem to mind.

"Haley, listen, I don't want to take too much of your time. You know I've agreed a fee with your club."

"Yes." I got my phone out and checked where she played. Orlando Pride. That was interesting. What was Max going to say? Come back to England, the weather's shit and we'll pay you less than in America.

"They don't want you to go but I've got permission to talk to you. Chelli told you the financial package."

"He did." She seemed to accept whatever numbers were involved, which blew my mind. How much was he proposing to pay? A lot. What was a lot for the women's team? From what came next, I gathered that money wasn't the core of the decision.

"Have you seen Chesterness?"

"Your documentary? Yes. It's great."

"Okay, so you know the basics of what we're about but what you don't know is how it's accelerating. We're turning full-time pro this summer and I had to make decisions about who got contracts and all that, and one thing led to another and I talked to the new manager and now I need two players to finish the squad and you're the key to everything."

"Tell me about the manager."

"Yeah, he's called Jay Cope. He's 24 but he's got three league titles back to back under his belt. He's got good skills but what Chester Women needs most is a tactics wizard and that's him."

"Why do you say that's what the team needs?"

"Because I'm the director of football which means he's gonna have the most talented squad. And it doesn't matter how good he is at coaching because we'll work around that. As it happens, he's very good, but he'll be given loads of support with the day-to-day work. I'm investing in you, sure, but I'm investing multiples more in hiring coaches. What I want is to give every single senior player at this club extra, personalised sessions on top of the normal schedule. One-to-ones, small groups.

I might only be able to afford one coach per six players but I'm working on getting that to one per four. One coach working with four players for an entire year to add elite skills to their arsenal."

"Holy fuck," I said, but I'm not sure if that was picked up by the microphones.

"We've got our training ground done, we've got access to more equipment next door, and the teams we're playing are faster and sharper, so that's perfect conditions for rapid growth. I want to push everyone to be better. Much better. That's what I mean about acceleration.

"You too, by the way. You're great and you'll come in on day one and make a huge difference to our starting eleven, but I think you're miles off your ceiling. I want to push you to new heights. I'm gonna tell people I'm signing England's number three, but I'm not. I believe I'm signing England's best goalkeeper. I want you wearing the number 1 shirt at the next tournament."

"That's one thing I had a lot of doubts about. Your players stopped getting England call-ups when Alan Turner got the job as England manager."

"That's true," said Max.

"Which says a lot about Alan Turner. You know what my solution to that is?"

"No."

"I buy you for 300 grand." Three hundred thousand pounds for a goalkeeper! We had only been in WSL 2 for five minutes and Max was smashing our transfer record. Was that the British transfer record for a female goalie? I looked it up - if the info was right, this would more than double the previous world record! Max was smiling.

"If we get this deal done today - not trying to rush you into a decision - then for the entire World Cup when they're showing the team sheets on the telly, it'll say Haley Goodhew, Chester FC. Now, Haley, let me tell you something about my personality. If I thought it would piss Alan Turner off, I'd buy the entire women's team, one at a time. Chester players don't get picked for England? You sure, bro?" He laughed.

"But listen, I'm not interested in doing that because I reckon I've already got half the England team at my club. Meghan, Sarah, Kisi, Dani, Angel. I've got a 15-year-old called Devi who's a definite England player. You spending a season catching crosses and throwing the ball to Sarah Greene will be more helpful to your prospects of playing for England than anything else you could possibly do. Why wouldn't you pick the goalie who knows how to play with five of your best outfielders?"

"If they get picked." Max shook his head.

"I haven't made a big fuss of this situation so far because I've actually been pretty happy to have the players available for our matches, not getting injured on international duty. But now we get the proper international breaks and the players are ready for that extra challenge. I don't want to go to war over it so my solution is simple - we start fucking shit up."

"Like what?"

"Like smashing big teams out of cups. Make it impossible to ignore our players. To be honest, we need you for that part. We need a couple of players who can already play at a high level just to give us a little bit of margin for mistakes. Meghan, Dani, Kisi, and Angel are 20 or under. So's Meredith Ann. I'm willing to spend big on you and another player of your level because that's going to give the rest of the squad the chance to shine and the confidence to, like, play with confidence."

"Who's the other player you want?"

"I can't say the name because I haven't spoken to her or her club because if you don't come we'll change tack completely. Jay likes a 4-3-3 but we have lost our starting full-backs - " I interrupted.

"You binned off Ridley T and Luxury Bell?" Max frowned.

"I didn't offer Ridley a pro deal but I did offer one to Luxury Bell. She's preggers," he told Haley.

"She is actually good enough for this level but she wants to just do the mum thing for now and when she's ready to return to playing, I'll find her the right club."

"Not Chester?" said Haley.

"We'll be in the WSL then, right? She wouldn't even get on the bench. What was I saying? Ah, yeah, we've got no full backs. Obviously I could just sign some but I had an idea and talked to Jay about it. What if we did 3-4-3? We've got the midfielders, we've got the forwards. We've got squad depth from all the little Welsh girls and the local talents we've promoted to the first team squad.

Our midfield is going to crush WSL 2 and we'll be up against a lot of defensive teams and that's where three at the back becomes a bit of a liability. You've got one player not doing much, right? So to make it work I need two things. I need a badarse goalie who's so good our midfielders can take more risks, and I need a centre back who can push up to be a DM. Ideally, she would be tall and experienced." Haley said, "Why tall?"

"To minimise our weaknesses. We have a very technical team. We're not weak on set pieces - we've got some height. Angel and Kit are decent in the air and that's helpful, but if we add you and another very tall centre back, it's like, teams are gonna line up thinking one, we're not gonna get the ball today, two, we're not gonna score on set pieces, three, what are we even supposed to do? I'm not being funny but I got used to the idea that the women's team just win all their matches and I want to keep it that way.

Beating teams in the tunnel before kick off is fine by me." Haley took some time before speaking next.

"I'm happy in Florida. I've got my girlfriend. And a dog."

"What's its name?"

"Squeeze." Max laughed.

"That is an all-time great dog name. Listen, your girlfriend plays for Orlando, too, right? If she comes to visit you in Chester, we can invite her to training so I can scout her. If she's gonna help us win the WSL, I'll sign her. If she's good enough for the WSL I'll recommend her to another club so she's at least in the same country. Yeah but I don't know. Realistically, you might be long-distance for a couple of years. That would suck. That would suck hard. But you know what I think?

I think it'll all be worth it when you pull on that England number one shirt. If that's what you want, I've got the facilities, the coaches, and the opportunity. I just offered Banksy an opportunity and if he doesn't want it, his understudy will jump at the chance. He's my first-choice, though, the same as you are with this one."

"Who's your plan B?" Max showed his teeth.

"I honestly don't have one. I'll pick up a free agent who can do a job this season, but I'll be spending the rest of the year sending you flowers. You and Chester is just so perfect I can't even get past it. We have to make this happen, Haley. If you have any doubts about anything I've said, hit me with them." She was looking down and had her mouth slightly open, which at first I mistook for being sad, but she was just looking at her phone.

"Is Banksy Wilfred Banks?"

"Yes," said Max, turning to eye me. I hadn't done anything wrong! Had I?

"Won the FA Youth Cup from League Two. That's amazing. Is he good?"

"Yeah. Pretty complete all-rounder with elite shot-stopping."

"Can I talk to him?"

"Sure." Max moved the laptop to face me.

"I mean alone, if that's all right."

"Course." Max turned the laptop to face the front again and gestured for me to sit on his stool. He looked from the screen to me and spoke in a weirdly serious voice.

"Be completely honest, okay? You heard the stakes. I want Haley to leave her nice home and her cute dog and that's a big deal so don't try to say what you think is the right thing. I won't be mad if you fuck this up for me, even though I've been working towards this moment for six weeks and even though the entire fate of the football club and maybe even English football rests on Haley making the right decision." He cracked up laughing.

"I actually started that being sincere." He punched me in the arm.

"Do be honest, yeah? I'm gonna go out the back and see what the Legends have decided." He went off. Haley said, "Has he gone?"

"Yeah. Want me to turn the camera around? I don't really want to touch his laptop. It looks brand new. Expensive."

"It's fine. What did he mean by the Legends?"

"Ha. That's this bunch of players who boss League Two but would just be squad players in League One. Max got them to take one-year contracts with the idea that every summer, he'd find them a different club who wanted to bosh the league. It's like a special forces unit you hire if you want to get promoted, but you have to hire them all. They get paid and they have fun. That's the idea."

"Max has lots of ideas."

"Oh, yeah! You never really know what's coming except it'll be good."

"So... what's training like?"

"Top," I said, straight away.

"I mean, I've only been in the academy really but to me it's top and Swanny says it's the best he's had. Sticky - that's Steve Icke - he's brilliant." I rubbed the back of my neck.

"He's gonna play in the Champions League this summer. One of Max's ideas. Um... I don't totally understand how it works but he's still gonna be coaching us and he's getting an assistant and we've got two amazing training grounds so it's all set up, you know, so it'll be even better than before."

"I've heard Sticky's rated."

"Yeah I think this thing where he plays Champions League is, like, to help convince him to stay. He's happy at Chester, he loves it, but Max stresses about him being poached and he goes out of his way to make sure he's happy. So, I mean, you don't know but that's how we know Sticky's the best one. If there was someone better, Max would be all over that, if you get me."

"What's the women's team like? They seem like good mates on the documentary."

"Yeah, it's a good vibe. We've just built a new canteen so we'll be able to eat together properly next season and that's gonna be fun."

"What are you smiling about?" I think I maybe turned red a bit.

"Oh, I was just thinking about the men and the women spending more time together." I definitely turned red that time.

"I mean like Christian and Femi are the captains and they'll be prowling around making sure everyone's being professional. Meghan and Kisi will be going round doing mischief and teasing us lot. And the men have signed loads of 17- and 18-year-olds so they'll be strutting around trying to get attention, you know?"

"Ah," said Haley.

"And they might strut their stuff in front of the wrong girl."

"Yeah. And I won't be around because I'll be in Gibraltar or in south Wales. So... I might miss my shot. But if I stay, I'll mess up my career." I shook my head and laughed.

"What am I doing? We're supposed to be talking about you." Haley did her biggest smile yet.

"This is good, Banksy. This is making me feel better about Chester, you know? Knowing that there are normal people there and it isn't all... Max."

"Yeah but he's not - " I turned because someone had come in the front door. He was in a dark suit and walked like he owned the place, which he did. Emma's dad. I'd seen him around and maybe spoken to him a few times. He came right to the island and looked from me to Haley on the screen. Then he said, "Am I in the right house?"

"Sorry, Mr. Weaver, it's just that Max wants to sign, er..." I wasn't sure if I should blab or not because of confidentiality rules or whatever.

"Did you forget her name, lad? That's no way to court a young lady."

"No, I just didn't know if I was allowed to say. This is Haley Goodhew."

"Haley," he said, looking up.

"Goodhew," he said looking down. He didn't have a clue.

"She's in the England squad for the World Cup. Max wants to sign her. He wants to double the world record transfer fee for a goalkeeper!"

"Bloody hell," said Mr. Weaver.

"He's supposed to be on bloody holiday!" He closed his eyes, then grinned.

"World record fee for a goalkeeper? How do you like the sound of that, Haley?" She did a very small grin.

"I don't mind it."

"You'll be the talk of the town until the first match kicks off. Think you can handle the attention?" She seemed worried.

"I don't want to disturb our preparations. If I decide to go, maybe the announcement can wait."

"Course it can," said Mr. Weaver. I said, "Max wants it to say Haley Goodhew, Chester FC on the pre-match graphics. It'll shut people up about Chester and England not working together." Mr. Weaver calculated.

"Yeah, it would an' all. He's a clever little scamp, isn't he? You know, I don't like the idea of him having millions of pounds to improve his teams. He's already making everyone else look bad with not two brass farthings to rub together. Breaking world records already? God help us all. Still, getting your big moves done early in the transfer window? Wouldn't mind if Newcastle did a little more of that. Eh? Haley, you do yoursel' a favour an' get in that Chester team.

They are bloody brilliant and the best thing is, you get to come to my Emma's wedding. Okay, that's settled. Now, Wilfred, Haley, do you think I could have my kitchen back?"

Everyone came back from the garden and Max pretended he was mad at me for hanging up on Haley. I had loads of questions that I didn't get the chance to ask. Who's the fourth ESC slot going to? Who else from the women's team didn't get offered a pro contract? Who are the new girls that got promoted from the youth teams? Are you going to sign someone to replace Sticky? It was just too mad, though. Everyone was talking loud and fast. I got the impression that the Legends were keen on the Newport move.

It was a decent offer already but the thought of playing at Wembley was the key, because they had seen how it was for Chester just recently. And the sweetener of European football was mwah! If everyone fell into line, I would be playing behind Lee and Tyler, and they're so so good. That filled me with confidence. All that was left, really, before we headed out to the restaurant, was to find out the fixtures for the Champions League.

When the draw started, Max ran back to his 'office' in the kitchen and hushed everyone. Mr. Weaver - Seb - grumbled about being shushed in his own home, but Emma and Rachel shushed him too. It was super tense because there were big bonuses for getting through the qualifiers but if Max could get all the way to the league stage of the Champions League, the prize would be 18 million pounds. Max could make as much money in four games with his little Welsh team as Chester could in a whole year in the Championship!

No wonder he had been going at it so hard! I would shush my future father-in-law, too! (I wouldn't.) Champions League First Qualifying Round Saltney Town (WAL) vs Linfield (NIR)"Linfield is Belfast," said Henri.

"That's winnable!" said Jaylyn.

"You'll smash them, Max!" Max could barely hear over the sound of the gears in his brain spinning madly. The next tie popped out. Noah (ARM) vs College 1975 (Gib)"Wow," said Max.

"Fuck." I didn't know if that was good or bad, and the fixtures kept piling out. So many teams I'd never heard of! I guessed I would start learning about them over the summer. When the first round draw was complete, UEFA went straight into the second round draw. And guess what? Champions League Second Qualifying Round [Noah or College 1975] vs [Saltney Town or Linfield]"Aaaaah!" yelled Max, at ear-splitting volume. He ran around the kitchen, whooping and jumping.

At one point, he leaped over a sofa, nearly fell, and came up holding an apple that he took a massive chunk out of.

"Don't ruin your appetite," said Rachel. Emma called out, "Babes, what's happening?"

"It's a miracle!" said Max.

"A Christmas miracle! If we win our first round matches, Saltney will play College! I'm going straight to the third round, babes!" Henri laughed.

"Won't the players you loan from Bayern Munich have something to say about that?" Max didn't reply because he was too busy trying to rip his apple in half. He did it and started juggling. While he was laughing, he let the halves bonk him on the head.

"Oh my God, this is incredible. And that'll put College into the Europa qualifiers, won't it?" He skipped back to the island and checked his notes.

"Yeah, they'll drop into the third round of the Europa League qualifiers. That's like four and a half million if they get through that and the playoff. That's really good. Let me think. Er..." He swapped Post-It notes around, shuffled through papers.

"What are you doing, babes?"

"Like, I've been trying to optimise across College and the Magpies, right? Seeing how many rounds I can sneak them through. But now I'm thinking, fuck it, let's load College and blast them into the Europa League." Henri was shaking his head.

"Max, you might make them so strong they beat Saltney Town." Max blew a raspberry.

"Please. You forget I'll be playing for Saltney. And look at the calibre of player I'll be up against." He held up a note that said: Henri Lyons. Henri's face did cartwheels as he tried to stay cool.

"Do you mean...?" Max jabbed a finger at his mate.

"You're going to Disneyland! Well, Armenia."

"Champions...?" whispered Henri.

"Champions League, baby. Sorry in advance for knocking you out but the third round of the Europa League is yours for the taking. Even if you lose the playoff, you get into the Conference League."

"This is beyond baffling," said Rachel, and I had to agree with her.

"League Two Legends," said Max, quietly, before getting loud for the next part.

"You have ascended!"

"What, all of us?" said Jaylyn.

"Private jets and luxury training camps all round! You're fucking welcome! Let's go! Let's fucking go!" A huge big cuddly ball of testosterone bounced around the open-plan kitchen. Emma saw me not taking part and shoved her hand into the seething mass of masculinity and hauled Max out.

"What about Banksy, babes?"

"What?" yelled Max, not trying to be rude but just so pumped.

"Does he have a role to play?" Max slapped the nearest surface.

"Course he does. The Magpies need a top goalie to get as far as they can get and then he's gonna bosh the National League and go to Wembley. Come on!" He saw that Emma was giving him an overly patient look and he calmed down about 97%.

"I mean, what? I said all that before. We talked about it. It's amazing but he's pretending not to be excited." Henri came over and put his arm around me.

"I think he will miss seeing someone at Bumpers." Max tutted and his energy rose as he came at me.

"Send her a fucking postcard, mate. It's private jets and luxury training camps for you, too! Jesus Christ!"

"Private jets?" I said.

"Oh my God," said Max, doing a 360 with his fingers over his forehead.

"Look, you made one good decision in your life, which was to let me manage you. So let me manage you! It's all planned out, mate. From here to the Premier League, to the England squad."

"Via Newport," said Henri, which caused a staring match between him and Max that got really intense until they both burst out laughing.

"Yes, via Newport," said Max, putting his arm around Henri. He stared at me but I think he was talking to Henri.

"Sorry we're racing up the leagues too fast for the human eye to even see. Sorry I'm an actual wizard." Emma did something to Max that shut him up - wish I knew that trick! - and everyone sort of looked at me.

"Er... It's just... Right, the thing is, you're always telling us to be careful with our money and there was that guy who came around to do a financial planning presentation, do you remember?"

"Yeah, because someone didn't want you to go with MD because someone said not to put all your eggs in one basket."

"He's talking about my dad," I said.

"That's not bad advice," said Henri.

"Which is why we let a rando in!" said Max, getting hot. Emma pressed the button again.

"So, yeah, that guy was good and my dad liked him but what was weird was that he was a goalkeeper and Man City bought him and after a few years they loaned him to a League Two team and he never played and he quit football when he was 22." I waited for a reaction and didn't get one.

"And I thought, like, wow, that could be me. And now you want to loan me to a team even lower down."

"Yes," said Max, and I couldn't tell if it was fake patience or real.

"So that you'll play. You'll be the starting goalie. If you mess up, you'll fight for your place in the team. You'll crush the other keepers on talent and work rate and determination. It is hard for you that Chester are moving up so fast, which is why I've arranged all this so you can keep growing. This is your life for the next few years. You climb a hill and there's another hill. One day you'll learn to love that next hill because the worst thing for a sportsman is running out of hills to climb.

Is that why you haven't signed your contract? Because a goalie dropped out fucking years ago? The moral of his story is, don't sign for Man fucking City because they will ruin you. Your situation isn't even slightly comparable, Banksy."

"He's right," said Henri.

"It's not. And you've got so many hills to climb. I am envious. Max can give us stories and adventures but he can't give us more talent than we have." Lee said, "You're 19 and you're Max Blessed." Rachel said, "I want you on my team, Wilfred."

"It's my team!" said her husband.

"Okay, but," I said. Everyone turned to me again.

"I love Chester and I want to be part of it and I'll go to Gibraltar and Newport and all that stuff and I'll send postcards but my dad worries about me all the time and if I could tell him that I negotiated for more wages he'd be, you know... less worried." Tyler shook his head.

"Max, forget financial planning," he said.

"You need to get your boys doing negotiation skills."

"I've heard worse," said Mr. Weaver.

"Here's what I'll do," said Max.

"There are bonuses for the players if you progress through the qualifiers. You can get more basic wage if you give up your share."

"How much is it?"

"That's the choice. Box one or box two. Take it or leave it."

"Um..."

"Or do you have a moral objection to being paid the same as the girl you like?"

"What? Who?" Max looked from Henri to Rachel to Emma to me. I think he was trying not to smile.

"Banksy, listen carefully. You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough." I was, I mean... What can you say to that? I had to write it down just now to even understand what he said, but for some reason, Henri gave him another hug and whispered in his ear. Max looked down with a big smile, and said, "Fuck it, let's bankrupt the whole fucking club. Banksy, if I bump you another hundred, can we go out to fucking lunch and celebrate the brilliance of my strategic thinking?"

I mean, I was the most confused person in the country but it sounded like I just got a pay rise. Blood from a stone.

"Yes!" While still looking at me, he pointed from Mr. Weaver to Rachel to Emma.

"You just agreed a verbal contract in front of three of England's best lawyers. Bosh. Another one falls into my trap. Ahahahaha! Okay, let's go. I'm starving."

So that happened! I don't know what it was but it happened! I get the feeling that it's going to be wild at Bumpers Bank this year and I won't be there for most of it which makes me a little bit sad but this is what I have to do to take my career to the next level. And I think that's why Haley will sign for Chester. Max got her fired up about being England's number one and she'll take the bait. Right, that's pretty much what went on today. I hope some of it is new information by the time you read it!

And yeah I might not see you much this season so let me wish you the best of luck. I'm sure you'll score, like, six rainbow flicks! Last thing, Dani. I was thinking that if you wanted, I could send you a postcard from Gibraltar? Best wishes, Wilfred Banks