The Next Big Thing
Chapter 79: Resolution

Chapter 79: Resolution

Weeks ago, David Jones found himself at a crossroads. He was in a situation he would have dreamed of being in months ago, but now, facing it was taking a toll on him. As the saying goes, "the grass isn’t always greener on the other side."

He was torn between staying with his team and the coach who had rescued him from a mediocre life. Without football, David knew he’d likely end up taking over his father’s store. He wasn’t blind to his weaknesses—academics had never been his strength. God might not have blessed him with a sharp mind, but He had compensated him with generational talent in football, a sport regarded as the world’s most beloved sport. From an early age, David had realised he was better than the other kids.

Whether playing in the park or at school with friends, David stood out. He could dribble through entire teams and place the ball in weird spots goalkeepers couldn’t even dream of reaching. He was different, and he didn’t hide it. Humility was never his strong suit—he relished his talent, often mocking opponents with humiliating tricks. His antics eventually got him outcasted from his youth team and shunned by other students.

But David didn’t care. He was a professional footballer now, while the rest were likely scrambling to figure out college plans—just so they could end up working for bosses who’d use them to make their millions.

David never felt he was wrong in his approach to football. For every player he mocked or dribbled past with flair, humiliating them, he believed it was their fault for not being good enough. If they fell for his tricks, that was on them. He saw no reason to apologize for his greatness.

Another reason for his disdain was that he felt most people didn’t take football seriously. For David, football wasn’t just a game—it was his only way to lift his family out of their struggles, the only path to a better life, the only way he could have purpose and truly matter. He had no patience for anyone who treated it lightly.

That wasn’t to say he couldn’t enjoy himself playing the sport—far from it. He loved football. Whether it was a 5-a-side game in the park or a match with thousands of fans screaming in the stands, David loved everything about it. His passion for the sport fueled him every single day.

As he thought about all this, David knew his mind was already made up. He was just letting sentiment get the better of him. Sure, what they were saying had some merit—Manchester United wasn’t in a great spot right now and joining them might not foster his growth as they claimed. But David felt they didn’t truly understand his talent. If the team was struggling, all he needed to do was score lots of goals and lead them to victory.

For David, playing in more intense matches would only help him grow faster. Confidence had never been an issue for him, and he didn’t believe he’d face any struggles at Manchester United.

While David’s mind was being made up, he felt an urge to call his parents and share the good news, eager to celebrate it with them. Then he’d call Rooney to inform him of his decision. Just as he reached for his phone, it rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw his mother’s smiling picture displayed. A grin spread across his face, pleased with himself for choosing such a nice photo as her caller ID.

He picked up the call, still smiling. "Hey, Mom, how are you?"

Her serene voice came through the line. "Hey, my baby, I’m fine. How are you?"

"I’m fine, Mom. Just sitting and thinking, that’s all. How’s Dad?" David asked.

Before his mother could finish her reply, "Well, he’s—" his father’s voice cut through the line, sounding stern.

"David, I need to talk to you," his dad said sharply.

David hesitated, unsure what was going on. "Okay, sir," he replied cautiously not sure what was going on.

His dad’s voice came through the phone. "Do you know a Jonathan Smith?"

David frowned, replying, "No, I don’t." But then it clicked—the man who had barged into his apartment while the virus was still at large breaking lockdown rules, who also lied to be his agent, the one who had first mentioned the Manchester United move. "Oh, him. Yeah, I know him. But what’s wrong?"

His father’s tone sharpened. "So it’s true—you sent him to talk to me?"

David froze, confused. What was his old man talking about? "Sent who to you? I didn’t—"

His dad cut him off. "And haven’t I told you already? This whole Manchester United thing should be rejected! Now I want you to call that Jonathan—or whatever his name is—and tell him I’m not signing anything. You’re not going anywhere."

David paused, the words sinking in. Then, after a moment, he said

"There you go again," David said, his voice sharp with frustration.

"What?" his dad responded, sounding taken aback.

David’s reply came in a pained, harsh tone. "There you go again, making life choices for me. Always keeping me down. You never even wanted me to play football, and now look at me—I’m a professional! And now you’re telling me to reject a club I’ve dreamed of playing for since I was a child. Your favorite club, might I add! Why? Why are you so insistent on bringing me down?"

As he finished, the words felt like years of bottled-up pain spilling out. Memories flooded back—the times his dad had screamed at him and his mom for letting him play football, all the times he had dismissed his dream as useless, urging him to focus on school and drop what he called a mere "hobby."

The neglect, the harsh words, the constant dismissal—all of it came rushing back, fueling the anger that now consumed him.

"David!" his mom’s voice rang through the phone, shocked at how he had spoken to his father. "You better apologize right now, young man, and about that man, he—"

Before she could finish, Isaac, David’s father, cut in. "I don’t need a reason, young man. You will obey me because I am your father, and that’s final. I want you to call that man and tell him you are going nowhere."

Silence followed. The tension was thick as neither side spoke, the weight of his father’s words hanging in the air. Finally, David broke the quiet.

"No," he said firmly.

"Excuse me?" his father responded, his tone laced with disbelief. This was the first time his son had ever defied him.

"I said no," David repeated. "I’m not rejecting the offer. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m going to accept Manchester United’s offer and become their player."

"Is that so?" his father said coldly.

"Yes," David replied.

"Let’s all just calm down," his mom interjected, her voice tinged with desperation. "This fight is leading nowhere."

"Yes, Mother," David said, his voice steady. "It’s leading nowhere because I’m grown now, and I can make my own decisions."

Isaac scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his words. "You hear that, Tabitha? Your 16-year-old son is grown now. He can make his own choices."

"Well, I just have one question to ask you—man to man," Isaac said, his voice sharp. "What did your coach say when you told him about this? Did you tell him how you plan to repay his favor with a knife in his back?"

David’s chest tightened at his father’s words, but he tried to keep his tone calm. "Dad, transfers happen all the time in football," he began, his voice firm. "And Wayne doesn’t matter right now. He’s had his own legendary career—at that same Manchester United you’re complaining about."

He paused, his tone softening as he continued, the weight of his emotions seeping through. "But I don’t care about him right now. It’s you that matters. I just... I just need your support. You and Mom’s." His voice cracked slightly as he finished, the vulnerability clear. "With that, I can face anything."

The room fell silent again, but this time, the air was thick with David’s sadness. He had poured his heart out, hoping—desperately—that his father could see just how much their support meant to him.

After a long stretch of silence, Isaac finally spoke. "I’ve said my piece. If you go through with this, you’ll have no support from me—or your mother."

"Isaac! Why would you say that?" his mother shouted, her voice filled with disbelief.

David shook his head, a bitter smile forming on his lips. "As always, so stubborn," he muttered. Then, looking at the phone, he spoke calmly but firmly. "Well, Dad, even without your support, I’m going to do this. And unlike before, remember, I’m no longer under your roof. Plus, I make way more than you now, so I can sort myself out."

"Wow, do you hear that, Tabitha? he makes money now and he is all grown up. Well, good luck then, man," Isaac said, his voice dripping with sarcasm before letting out a hiss and ending the call.

David stood there, the room eerily quiet as his thoughts raced. His head was a mess, his face contorted with anger and hurt. Slowly, he picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His finger stopped on a name, and he dialed.

As the call connected, a single tear slid down from his left eye.

Before the person on the other end could even greet him, David spoke, his voice trembling with controlled rage. "What did you say to my parents?"

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