Football is the most popular sport in Argentina. Right now, the World Cup is being held in France. Last night, Argentina defeated Jamaica 5-0, making the Argentine restaurants, already buzzing with the World Cup atmosphere, even more lively.
The TV in the restaurant was replaying last night's match. Batistuta scored a hat trick, becoming the only player in World Cup history to score a hat trick in two consecutive tournaments.
Even though everyone had watched the live broadcast the night before, when Batistuta scored again on the screen, the whole restaurant erupted in cheers, as if they were celebrating the goal in real time.
"Argentina has always produced such passionate and talented superstars, like Kempes, Di Stefano, Maradona, Batistuta, Caniggia, Redondo. The next one should be Messi!" Ethan stared at the TV, speaking more to himself than anyone else.
Jorge, sitting opposite, was surprised. He hadn't expected Ethan to compare his son with so many legendary stars, especially knowing Messi was suffering from a chronic illness.
"Jorge, this is my business card and my ID. Here is our club's phone number as well. If you have any doubts, you can also call the English Football Association to confirm. We are a formally registered club in England." Ethan knew he had to first prove his identity.
Put yourself in Jorge's shoes. If someone suddenly appeared, claiming to represent an English club and saying they valued his son's talent and wanted to sign him, anyone would be suspicious.
Ethan always preferred to establish credibility first, so he showed all his documents.
Jorge took the papers and certificates, examining them carefully. He saw they were stamped with official seals.
But as he looked, Jorge frowned.
"Don't worry, Jorge. Although our club was only established this year, you can find reports about us in any sports newspaper in the UK or even Europe. We are a supporters' club that decided to set up our own team because we were dissatisfied with the takeover of Manchester United. I can guarantee with my character and my love for football that we are serious about running this club!"
Jorge listened quietly, staring at Ethan for a moment before continuing to read.
"Are you also the owner of this club?" Jorge asked after noticing something.
"Yes," Ethan admitted with a smile. "But right now, I am acting as the negotiation representative. You understand, since we were only just established, we are still recruiting staff, so for now I handle these matters myself. I hope you don't mind."
"No, no, it's our honor!" Jorge answered politely.
Ethan ordered a glass of water, then waited patiently for Jorge to finish reading all the documents before continuing.
"Mr. Jorge, to be frank, we have been following Messi's football for years. I must say, he is the most talented young player I have ever seen, not even inferior to Ronaldo."
"No, you are too kind, sir!" Jorge quickly replied.
Who was Ronaldo? The "Alien," the best striker in the world, a superstar considered capable of surpassing even Maradona and Pelé as the greatest player in history.
How could his own son be compared to him?
No matter how confident Jorge was in Messi's talent, he dared not compare him with Ronaldo.
"No, I am serious. Of course, the premise is that he must be healthy. What do you think?"
Jorge's eyes dimmed. Ethan's words touched the pain in his heart.
"I have heard about Messi," Ethan continued. "I know that Newell's Old Boys only agreed to cover a small portion of the medical costs. And River Plate, who had been very interested before, eventually gave up. In the end, you were left to handle everything yourselves."
"Yes, that's right. For more than half a year, we have relied on ourselves. At first, my company was still able to help us, but recently the business has struggled, and they refused further support. That made our situation even worse." Jorge never spoke of these hardships in front of his children or outsiders. He always carried the responsibility himself. But now that Ethan had touched on the pain in his heart, he couldn't hold back. He needed someone to talk to.
"I left my management position at the company and started working outside. At first, I worked for a moving company. The pay was good, but the hours were long and it was far from home. If anything happened, I couldn't get back in time. Later, I helped move seafood at the Grandoli neighborhood market where my father used to work, but it was a small market. When the economic crisis hit, my boss fired me."
"My current job is delivering beef from the market to several Argentine restaurants. It's simple, the pay is decent, and it gives me some freedom. It's already my third job in the past six months."
Jorge looked bitter as he recounted these months.
To his children, he was a kind and gentle father. To his wife, a responsible husband. But behind it all, he was just a man silently carrying the burden of keeping his family alive.
"I understand, Jorge, I really do!" Ethan felt a pang of sadness.
Although he had never been a father, he thought of his own. His father was a man who never joked, always serious. His hands were rough and covered with calluses. His mother had told him they came from years of hard labor. He was thin, yet always took on heavy work. Lacking education, his father endured hardship so his son could study and find a better future, so he would not have to live the same way.
In Ethan's memory, his father had never once complained. He simply shouldered everything silently for the family and for his son.
Jorge was just like his father, a great father.
Thinking of this, Ethan silently resolved to find an opportunity to return home and visit his parents.
Jorge noticed the mist in Ethan's eyes and felt a little embarrassed.
"I'm sorry I said so much. I must have made you laugh."
"No, no, Jorge!" Ethan quickly denied. "I was just thinking of my father. He worked so hard for me and for our family. I am just very touched. You are just like my father, one of the greatest people in the world!"
Jorge froze for a moment, then nodded deeply, as if he had met a kindred spirit.
The two men sat in silence, each lost in thought, until the waiter brought their food.
Because Jorge delivered beef to the restaurant, the chef had added extra portions and even gave them each a glass of beer.
"You have some influence here!" Ethan said with a laugh.
Jorge was clearly hungry. He ate quickly, finishing everything on his plate in one go. Ethan was stunned by the sight.
"Alright, Jorge, I think we should talk business now. Our club wants to invite Messi to join us." Ethan spoke only after making sure Jorge had eaten.
Jorge had already guessed as much, but he hesitated. "But Leo…"
"I know. His growth hormone secretion is too low, so he has to inject biosynthetic growth hormone daily. We are aware of this. I also know it costs around $1,000 to $1,500 a month, at least until Messi's body develops properly."
Jorge nodded. What Ethan said was accurate.
Medical expenses of over a thousand dollars a month might not sound like much, but it added up to more than twenty thousand a year. Messi was only 11, and treatment would last five or six years. That meant over a hundred thousand dollars. With that money, an Argentine club could buy another highly talented player.
This was exactly why both Newell's Old Boys and River Plate had backed away after learning of Messi's condition.
But Ethan was different from all the football people Jorge had met. As a transmigrator, he knew Messi's true value. To him, investing tens of thousands in exchange for a future superstar was the deal of a lifetime.
"Jorge, our club is willing to cover all of Messi's medical expenses. In addition, we would like to invite you and your family to move to Manchester. Our club can also provide jobs for you and your wife so that your family has support."
Jorge was stunned. The offer was simply too good.
"Of course, we are not doing this for free. We believe in Messi's talent, and we want him to play for our team. That kind of value cannot be measured by money, right?"
Jorge felt dizzy, as if a pie had fallen straight from the sky. Moving to the UK, having a job, covering the medical costs, each promise was overwhelming.
"Of course, I don't expect you to agree immediately. You can go home and think about it, or contact the relevant departments in England to confirm. After that, you can call me. I'll be waiting in Rosario."
Ethan handed over his contact information and hotel address, stood up, went to the counter to pay, and left the restaurant.
Even after he had gone, Jorge remained seated, staring blankly at the business card and address note on the table.
(To be continued.)
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