Chapter 76: Mendes' Expectations—Aiming for the Golden Boy Award
Mendes had been in a fantastic mood lately.
Meanwhile, his competitors in the agent world were nearly foaming at the mouth with jealousy, watching Leon grow stronger and more impressive with every match at Real Madrid.
And it wasn't just about Leon's performances—after all, when it came to raw impact and fan appeal, Götze at Dortmund was still considered the brightest rising star of the new generation.
What made Mendes the target of so much envy was Leon's nationality.
A Chinese player who had not only impressed during a loan spell at Milan, helping them win a domestic double as a starting midfielder, but had also returned to Madrid and cemented his place in the first team.
When you combined that résumé with the fact that Mendes was on the verge of becoming the first agent to break into the Chinese commercial market, it was no wonder the others were losing their minds.
They could complain all they wanted—that Mendes had lucked into everything, that he stumbled into superstardom first with Mourinho, then with Ronaldo, and now had "won the lottery" with Leon.
But none of their complaints could change the fact that Mendes was already in talks with one Chinese company after another.
Truth be told, those doors had started opening the moment Leon signed with AC Milan earlier in the year.
Chinese corporations, sensing the potential, had already begun bidding to become the first to feature him in domestic advertising.
Some moved fast and offered respectable contracts in hopes of snatching early exposure.
Others didn't see far ahead but still threw around hefty numbers.
Mendes remembered staring at some of those offers, his brain going numb from the sheer volume of zeros.
He had signed Leon partly because Mourinho and Ronaldo had suggested it, and partly because he hoped to get lucky.
But even in his wildest dreams, Mendes hadn't expected that six months at Milan would turn Leon into one of the hottest properties in Chinese advertising.
Clearly, Mendes had underestimated Leon's commercial value.
But just when the flood of Chinese business tycoons was starting to overwhelm him with offers, Mendes did the right thing—he flew to Milan and spoke directly to Leon.
And Leon had remained calm.
"No rush. Let's wait till the season ends, see how things go back at Madrid. Then we'll talk again."
Back then, Mendes thought Leon was being overly cautious. At the very least, they could have locked in one or two solid endorsement deals while his stock was red hot.
But now?
Now Mendes had to admit—Leon had been absolutely right.
Back then, he had no trophies. He was just a promising academy graduate with good exposure.
But now?
If someone wanted to negotiate with a double champion, they'd have to pay up.
Even though Mendes had raised the minimum price considerably, Chinese companies kept coming.
In fact, more heavy hitters were now personally reaching out with serious proposals.
And this time, Mendes wasn't patient. He was anxious.
Leon still wasn't in a hurry, not in the slightest. But Mendes was dying to get the ball rolling.
Thankfully, Leon finally gave a green light.
No endorsements with questionable reputations or product quality.
No more than three deals between now and the end of the year.
Brand selection and negotiation? Leave it to Mendes' team.
Leon wanted one-on-one talks with company reps before signing, to understand their marketing strategy in both China and abroad.
And then came the contract with Real Madrid.
Leon's current deal still had four years left.
He wasn't asking for much in salary—just €3 million net per year. Even a flat €3 million would be fine.
But when it came to image rights, Leon drew a hard line.
He wouldn't give any away.
He didn't even budge.
This was the same Leon who, back when his name had nearly gone sour in the Chinese press, refused to hand over his image rights.
Back then, Real Madrid didn't care much. Leon wasn't in the first-team picture. There was even talk of selling him to Real Betis.
If Mourinho hadn't taken a look at his Betis performances, called him up, and decided to keep him...
Leon might have still been stuck there.
So now, stronger and more confident than ever, Leon had no intention of changing his stance.
To his surprise, Mendes didn't fully agree.
He raised concerns immediately.
After patiently explaining, Leon finally began to understand—
Owning 100% of your image rights doesn't necessarily mean you earn more.
Not right now, at least.
By sharing some of those rights with Real Madrid, Leon could access Madrid's global marketing machine—and make far more than he ever could on his own.
A simple example:
If Mendes alone got Leon a deal worth €1 million, Leon (after team commissions) would take most of it home.
But if both Madrid and Mendes promoted him together, that figure could become €2–3 million, and Leon could walk away with half—or even 60%.
The math was clear.
For the next two to three years, working with Madrid's marketing team would be a win-win.
Leon agreed—but on one condition: they would fight for leverage at the negotiation table.
So once Madrid opened talks about a contract renewal after his Champions League performance, Mendes and the club immediately hit a stalemate.
Madrid's offer was generous—more generous than Mendes expected.
But their first demand?
50% of Leon's image rights.
Mendes, after checking in with Leon, countered with an offer:
Leon would retain 80%.
The negotiations broke down immediately—neither side was willing to budge on the first and most critical clause.
Two days passed, and while all the other contract terms were essentially settled, both parties returned to square one: image rights.
Real Madrid made the first concession, reducing their demand to 45% of Leon's image rights.
But Mendes' team held firm, even double-checking with Leon himself.
Their reply was simple, clear, and absolute:
"20% is the maximum. That's our bottom line."
As expected, just before Matchday 4 of La Liga, the talks collapsed once again.
Leon wasn't surprised in the least.
Ever since Florentino Pérez had returned to power at Real Madrid, it was standard practice to demand a cut of every marketable player's image rights.
Now that Leon had exploded commercially—especially in the Chinese market, which Madrid valued immensely—there was no way they'd settle for giving him 80%.
The club's strategy had been to leave Leon hanging for a while, give him time to "reconsider," and realize that staying at Real Madrid was the best path to maximize his market value.
But instead, that tactic completely backfired.
September 18, evening—Florentino Pérez entered the VIP suite of the Ciutat de València Stadium in a visibly unimpressed mood.
Real Madrid was set to face Levante in their fourth league fixture.
As the players stepped onto the pitch and Leon followed behind Alonso, Florentino's irritation flared again.
He still couldn't wrap his head around it—why had Leon rejected a fair 50/50 split?
Yes, Madrid had mishandled Leon early on.
Yes, they failed to appreciate his defensive skills, and yes, the scandal back home in China had damaged his public image. But people make mistakes. What mattered was how quickly you corrected them.
Florentino believed the club had gone above and beyond to fix that mistake.
They increased his salary, arranged a loan to Milan, gave him the No. 10 jersey upon return…
What more could he possibly want?
Florentino massaged his temples.
"Maybe I'll have Jorge try talking to him again later."
※※※
The match kicked off at 7:00 PM on September 18.
Given that Madrid had just played a Champions League match on the road, Mourinho rotated heavily.
Cristiano Ronaldo, Kaká, Benzema, and Marcelo all started on the bench.
Mourinho lined up a more aggressive 4-3-3.
The attacking trio up front: Di María, Higuaín, and Callejón.
In midfield, Leon and Lass Diarra played as the left and right central midfielders, while Xabi Alonso anchored the base.
The back line featured Coentrão, Ramos, Pepe, and Arbeloa, with Casillas in goal.
This marked Leon's return to the left central midfield—his first time playing that role since his loan at Milan.
With Diarra on the right, the two of them were reminiscent of the "Running Men" partnership he once formed with Gattuso.
And with Alonso behind him organizing the play… well, it looked suspiciously similar to Allegri's Milan.
Leon didn't dare ask Mourinho if he'd copied Milan's tactics directly, but he suspected that if Milan fans saw this match, they'd definitely raise an eyebrow or two.
Mourinho, meanwhile, wasn't the least bit embarrassed.
Tactics are tools. Coaches borrow, refine, and adapt all the time. It's not stealing. It's learning.
He'd tested this setup during training on a whim, and surprisingly, it worked well.
With Khedira still recovering from injury, Mourinho figured he might as well experiment with different starting combinations.
Kaká needed to be protected physically. Lass Diarra was the perfect test subject.
Right?
Eager and full of energy, Lass had no idea he was Mourinho's tactical guinea pig tonight.
As the match kicked off, he began tearing through the midfield with his trademark hustle.
Seeing that, Leon relaxed.
With Lass cleaning up the right side, he could focus on playing his role on the left—maybe even get forward and have a bit of fun.
After all, Alonso was far easier to work with than Pirlo.
No need to constantly cover for defensive lapses.
In fact, he figured Alonso might end up covering for him tonight.
Madrid's superiority in midfield and attack was obvious from the outset.
This lineup was built for ball-winning and quick transitions.
With Di María and Callejón both willing to drop deep and carry the ball forward, Madrid quickly seized control of midfield.
Higuaín was thriving.
Last season, before his injury, he was usually Madrid's starting striker.
But he'd often played second fiddle—ceding the spotlight to Ronaldo, and acting as a link-up man.
Whether he liked it or not, Mourinho's system had him doing the dirty work.
Today, he was finally unleashed.
With the flanks feeding him and the midfield cleaning up behind him, Higuaín had the green light to fire at will.
And in the 8th minute, he made that very clear.
His first shot of the match showed the kind of sharpness Madrid had been missing.
Faced with Di María's break and pinpoint cross, Higuaín didn't hesitate—he went for a direct volley shot.
If not for Levante's keeper Munúa being razor sharp, that missile to the far post would've been unstoppable.
But Munúa just managed a full-stretch save, barely tipping it away.
Over the next ten minutes, Higuaín had two more shots on target, both testing the keeper hard.
His rhythm was blazing hot. His touch sharp. His confidence flowing.
Unfortunately, Levante's veteran center-back Ballesteros and Munúa were both in top form.
For the first 20 minutes, they repelled every wave of Madrid's aggressive assault—forcing Mourinho to pace on the sidelines, visibly annoyed.
From what Levante showed, this wasn't just a "bottom-half La Liga team."
Whoever underestimated them this season was going to pay the price.
And it was around this point that Leon decided it was time.
Mourinho had told him he could join the attack when needed.
Now was the moment.
24th minute, first half.
After Di María's attempted dribble failed, the ball rolled back to Leon.
Instead of passing it back to Alonso, he drove forward himself.
Seven or eight meters into the push, he saw veteran midfielder Barkero stepping up to intercept.
Leon called Callejón for support, executed a simple give-and-go, and suddenly he was through—into Levante's 30-meter zone.
Now Javi Torres stepped up to stop him.
Levante's midfield shape began to crumble.
Both Javi Torres and Iborra collapsed onto Leon, not wanting to let him progress any further.
Up ahead, Higuaín, aware of Leon's ability to pick out through balls, signaled for a pass and made a forward run.
That pulled both Levante center-backs back with him.
Just when the double team was about to hit, Leon passed—but not forward.
And not to Di María, who was beginning an overlap down the left.
Instead, he sent the ball diagonally to Callejón.
Callejón had been quiet. He'd dropped deep earlier to help Leon.
And now? He was ghosting into the half-space at the edge of Levante's box.
Because both defensive midfielders had stepped up, and the center-backs had retreated, there was a momentary vacuum in that zone.
Callejón wasn't even sure Leon had spotted him.
He ran purely on instinct—into danger.
But Leon had seen everything.
And his timing?
Perfect.
The ball arrived exactly where Callejón wanted it.
"What a pass!"
From the bench, Mourinho and the senior players leapt to their feet.
Leon had sold the entire stadium on his focus on Di María and Higuaín—and then delivered a no-look through ball across the grain.
Even some of his own teammates had been fooled.
But Callejón didn't hesitate.
He controlled it on the run, stepped into the edge of the box, took a breath—
And let fly.
It was a rocket.
Not the most elegant technique, but pure, effective, and unafraid.
This time, even Munúa couldn't save it.
The ball exploded into the bottom-left corner like a cannon shell.
Goal.
Real Madrid had broken Levante's resistance and tipped the match in their favor.
Even Florentino Pérez, notoriously indifferent to academy graduates, stood and clapped with a faint smile in the VIP suite.
On the touchline, Mourinho and the entire Madrid bench erupted in celebration.
Fans screamed, fists pumped, arms raised.
Two Castilian-born academy graduates—Leon and Callejón—had linked up to deliver a crucial lead in a tough match.
The two former Castilla teammates embraced, grinning like schoolboys.
Leon could feel how much this meant to Callejón. He clapped him on the back, celebrating the journey his teammate had taken—leaving Madrid, shining at Espanyol, and now returning home to make his mark.
Other teammates rushed over, patting Callejón's head and offering their congratulations.
Also smiling in the stands was Jorge Mendes.
He'd come specifically to watch Leon.
And now, seeing that the contract deadlock hadn't shaken Leon at all—and that he was playing brilliantly—he was more confident than ever.
Not just reassured.
Expectant.
Six months ago, people had laughed when Mendes signed Leon.
"A limited defender. Can't win individual awards."
Maybe then he had no counter-argument.
But now?
If someone dared say that again—he'd slap them.
This run. This vision. This pass.
This was not a player who "only defends."
Even if Leon never became an attacking maestro, with this kind of passing sense?
He didn't need to.
A Ballon d'Or? Probably not.
But the Golden Boy Award?
Mendes absolutely believed he could win it.
Götze was brilliant. No doubt.
But Leon had silverware.
Two titles with Milan. Now starting for Madrid.
Who would win in the end?
"Let's see," Mendes thought.
"We'll let the pitch decide."
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