The Next Big Thing
Chapter 81: Breakaway

Chapter 81: Breakaway

David sat in the chair opposite Wayne Rooney, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He had spent days mentally preparing for this moment—finally telling the man who had been his mentor and biggest supporter about his decision to leave Derby County.

Rooney’s sharp blue eyes bore into him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Then Rooney leaned forward, his voice firm but calm.

"David," he began, "what’s all this I’m hearing about a transfer?"

David forced a smile, trying to stay optimistic. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "It’s true. I’ve decided to go. Manchester United... it’s a dream, Coach. I mean, you of all people know what that means."

Rooney’s brow furrowed slightly, but his tone remained measured. "I get that, David. Manchester United’s a big move. But what I don’t get is... why didn’t you come to me first? Why am I hearing this from the club instead of from you?"

David hesitated, suddenly feeling less confident. "Uh... I didn’t know how to say it," he admitted, avoiding Rooney’s gaze.

Rooney leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "David, listen. I’m not going to tell you what to do. This is your career, your life. But you need to understand something—Manchester United isn’t the same club it was when I was there."

"What do you mean?" David asked, frowning.

"They’re in a bad spot right now," Rooney said bluntly. "The squad’s a mess, the board’s a mess. It’s not the same United that I played for under Sir Alex. Everything’s different."

David leaned forward, his voice rising slightly. "Come on, Coach. Look at you! Didn’t Manchester United help you become the player you are today? Even better than you were before?"

Rooney sighed, shaking his head. "It’s not the same, David. That United had Sir Alex Ferguson—a man who built a legacy, who knew how to turn talent into greatness. The United you’re talking about now... it’s not the same. Trust me on that."

"But Ole said he has big plans for me!" David said excitedly, his optimism returning. "He told me himself that I’d be a priority, that he sees something special in me. Coach, this is everything I’ve worked for!"

Ronney said "let me tell you something—Manchester United isn’t what it used to be. They need serious help right now. The team is struggling, the management is under fire, and their performances... well, they’ve been far from their glory days."

David straightened in his chair, a defiant look crossing his face. "Well, that’s why I’m going, Coach. With my talents, I can help them get back on track. I’m no fool—I know they’re not any good right now, but that’s why they need players like me."

Rooney sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "David, I know how good you are. Trust me, I’ve seen it. Given the right time and development, you’ll be competing for the Ballon d’Or. But the Manchester United of today? Even I, in my prime, can’t say I’d be able to turn them around single-handedly."

David bristled, his voice rising slightly. "Maybe you’re underestimating me, then."

Rooney met his gaze, his voice steady but firm. "No, I’m not underestimating you. I’m being honest with you because I care. Your talent is undeniable, but you still need polishing. You don’t always know when to make the smart decision—when to dribble, when to pass, when to take the shot. And while you score a lot of goals, you take too many attempts to get there. And your free kicks..." Rooney trailed off, shaking his head.

"You think you’re ready. But let me tell you, the pressure at Manchester United is like nothing you’ve experienced. Every missed goal, every poor game—it’ll all be magnified. You’re still learning, David.

David crossed his arms. "What about my free kicks?"

"They’re inconsistent," Rooney said bluntly. "If you want to be a world-class player, you’ve got to master every part of your game. Right now, you’re good—no, you’re great—but you’re not there yet. And Manchester United... they’re not the right place for you to learn. Not now."

David exhaled sharply, trying to keep his temper in check. "You’ve got a point, Coach," he admitted reluctantly.

Rooney’s face softened slightly. "That’s all I’m saying, David. Think about it. You’ve got time. There’s no rush—"

David interrupted, his voice firm. "I’ll think about it with my new coach while I’m at Manchester United."

Rooney’s jaw tightened, and his voice grew sharper. "David, you’re not listening. Do you really think promises like that mean anything in football? Plans change overnight, especially at a club in chaos."

"Listen, David, I get what you’re saying. You want to compete for the big trophies, fight for the honors and all," Rooney said, his voice calm but firm. "But everyone has to pay their dues, including you."

David shot back, "I am paying my dues, and I’ve been paying them! If not for me, we all know where Derby would be right now. And it’s not like I’m abandoning them—Manchester United is giving Derby a good deal!"

Rooney’s face hardened as he leaned closer. "This path you’re heading down is the wrong one, David. Let me tell you something—there have been countless talents who never fulfilled their potential. Not because they weren’t good enough, but because they made the wrong choices. Wrong club, wrong attitude, arrogance—whatever it was, it ruined them.

"I’ve always known you were confident in your abilities, but there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance. Right now, I can’t tell which side you’re on, and that worries me. It would be a real shame if you ended up as just another name on the list of players who could have been great but threw it all away."

David’s excitement turned to frustration. "You’re just like my dad!" he snapped.

Rooney raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"You’re both trying to hold me back!" David said, his voice rising. "Neither of you believes in me enough to let me take this step. I thought you’d understand, but you’re no different."

Rooney’s eyes darkened, his tone now icy. "Watch your mouth, David. I’ve done nothing but support you since the day you walked into this club. But let me tell you something—you didn’t come to me with this because deep down, you know what you’re doing is wrong. You’re not ready. And you’re not thinking about anyone but yourself."

David clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "That’s not true!"

"Isn’t it?" Rooney shot back. "What will your teammates think? What will the fans think when they hear you’re ditching the club in the middle of the season? You’re not just moving on—you’re abandoning the people who’ve been supporting you since you got here."

David’s voice cracked as he retorted, "If they really cared about me, they’d be happy for me! They’d want me to move forward, to grow!"

Rooney leaned forward, his voice low and steady. "I’m not your dad, David. I’m your coach, and I’ve been where you’re trying to go. I know the highs and the lows, the sacrifices, the regrets. I just don’t want to see you make a choice you’ll look back on and wish you’d handled differently."

The argument escalated, both voices echoing through the room. Finally, David had enough. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

"This is my decision," he said firmly. "Not yours, not my dad’s. Mine."

Without waiting for a response, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

David made his way to the locker room, his head spinning. He tried to push the argument out of his mind, focusing instead on the future—the brighter days ahead. But as he stepped into the locker room, he froze.

The entire team was gathered in a huddle, their heads bent over something on Jayden Bogle’s phone. The tension in the room was palpable.

David cleared his throat. "Hey, guys. What’s going on?"

The huddle broke apart, and the team turned to face him. Jayden hesitated for a moment, then Curtis Davies, the captain, stepped forward, snatching the phone from Jayden’s hand.

He held it out toward David, his expression a mix of disappointment and disbelief. "Is it true?" Curtis asked, his voice low but steady. "Are you leaving?"

David looked at the phone, then back at Curtis. The weight of the question—and the eyes of his teammates—hung heavy in the air.

Jason Knight, who had been the closest to David since he joined the squad—the only person David could truly call a friend—looked at him intently and asked, "Yeah, are you really leaving?"

David remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Jason’s gaze hardened as he pressed, "It’s not true, is it?"

The silence between them stretched, and Jason’s face shifted. A mocking laugh escaped him as he said, "I guess it is true. Is that why you asked me that question that day?" His eyes burned fiercely as he locked onto David’s.