"Why don't you understand?"
Juninho D'Alessandro asked with a calm smile.
"Ronaldinho deserves a bigger stage. His dream has always been to shine in one of Europe's top five leagues."
The middle-aged agent sighed and continued, "So even if I've heard you can scrape together the transfer fee, the player himself wouldn't agree."
As he finished speaking, Ronaldinho stood beside him, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"Tighten my belt?"
Juninho chuckled. "We haven't tightened anything. In fact, our recruitment plan includes not just Ronaldinho, but also a top-tier player from the Swiss league and another from Serbia's first division."
"Oh?"
The agent raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but still skeptical. "For a Fourth Division club like Morecambe, if you're really spending money, why not just buy some proven League One or League Two players and aim for promotion?"
"Promotion?"
Juninho's tone turned serious. "Buying players from League One or League Two? I can do that easily. And yes, promotion is the goal this season—but it's not the destination."
"Our ultimate goal," he said, eyes locked on the agent, "is to reach the Premier League within three years, in three stages—and then, the Champions League."
He stood and paced slightly, his voice picking up intensity.
"To achieve that, I've reviewed hours of footage, scouting countless young talents across Europe. My vision is to bring them here—to Morecambe—and build a team so talented that promotion becomes inevitable."
Juninho pointed to Ronaldinho with a smirk.
"And naturally, Ronaldinho is one of those gems."
The agent's posture shifted ever so slightly. Ronaldinho, too, seemed more curious than defensive now.
Was this small club truly so ambitious?
Most clubs these days focused on raising youth players and flipping them for a quick profit. Few dared dream beyond the balance sheet.
Juninho tilted his head. "You're Ronaldinho's agent, correct?"
"Yes," the man replied cautiously, still studying Juninho.
"Good. Step outside with me. There's something we need to discuss—privately."
Juninho walked toward the door, and after a brief glance at Ronaldinho, the agent followed.
Outside, the cool air didn't dim Juninho's fire.
"You know what's most important to a football club?" he asked.
The agent shrugged. "Money?"
Juninho laughed. "That's half of it. The other half is vision."
"You and I both know how talented Ronaldinho is," he continued.
"Of course. I believe he's the most gifted Brazilian player of the last ten years."
"And yet," Juninho said slowly, his tone turning sharp, "no one in Europe has been willing to pay his transfer fee."
The agent's silence confirmed the truth.
Juninho pressed on. "But we, Morecambe, are willing. We may be in the fourth tier, but we have something others don't—vision. In four years, we'll be in the Champions League. That's not a fantasy. That's a blueprint."
He stared into the man's eyes, letting the words hang.
The agent was wavering now. He knew the transfer market was cold. Ronaldinho was brilliant—but no one was biting. European clubs were cautious, overly focused on proven commodities.
Maybe… this madman had a point?
Then Juninho leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Convince him to sign with Morecambe for five years, and I'll pay you a €2 million commission—cash."
The agent's eyes gleamed.
"Let me talk to him."
He returned to the office without another word. His earlier doubts were swept aside by the glowing figure: €2 million.
Sure, he liked Ronaldinho. But this was business. He wasn't family—he was a client.
And €2 million? That would take years of brokering transfers to match.
Juninho chuckled to himself.
"Sometimes, it really is just about the money."
He made a mental note: this strategy could also work on Ibrahimović and Vidic's agents.
Not long after, the agent returned with a grin.
"He's in. Let's talk contract."
"So fast?" Juninho blinked in surprise.
"He trusts me. I've guided his whole career." The man spoke with pride, though Juninho knew exactly what had done the convincing.
"Excellent!" Juninho clapped his hands and rushed into the office.
He looked at Ronaldinho—young, sharp-eyed, and filled with potential. It stirred something inside him.
One of Europe's future greatest midfielders… and now, Morecambe's.
They spent the next few hours ironing out the details.
The final deal:
Five-year contract
Release clause: €200 million
Weekly wage: €30,000
Goal bonus: €20,000
Assist bonus: €10,000
Promotion bonus: €200,000
It was a package no other club would offer to a teenage prospect—even one as gifted as Ronaldinho. And Ronaldinho knew it. Whatever doubts he had evaporated in the face of Morecambe's ambition—and their sincerity.
Juninho, however, understood the long-term play.
Sure, €30,000 a week sounded steep. But once Ronaldinho exploded onto the world stage, he'd be worth ten times that.
After signing, Ronaldinho and his agent returned to the hotel. They'd fly back to Brazil the next day to handle paperwork and pack their things.
He'd arrive at Morecambe officially once the transfer window opened.
"Messi. Ronaldinho…"
Juninho leaned back in his office chair and exhaled slowly.
Only someone like him—armed with knowledge from the future—could pull this off.
And it wasn't over yet.
He glanced at the clock.
Any moment now...
Knock. Knock.
Heavy footsteps approached the door.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into the room, stern-faced and imposing. Behind him, another man followed.
Nemanja Vidić had arrived.
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