Michael Sterling stood outside a large house with huge iron gates. He checked the address on his phone. This was it. The home of the legend.

Arthur Milton stood next to him holding a soggy umbrella.

"Boss," Arthur whispered. "Are you sure he is home? Maybe he is at a rave. Or drinking blue liquid in a field."

"He is thirty nine years old Arthur," Michael said pressing the buzzer. "He is probably watching daytime television."

A voice crackled through the intercom.

"Who is it? If you are selling solar panels I have enough energy!"

"It is Michael Sterling," Michael shouted at the metal box. "From Barnsley. We come with an offer."

There was a silence. Then a buzzing sound. The gates opened slowly.

Jamie Vardy opened the front door. He was wearing a grey tracksuit and holding a can of energy drink. He looked older than the posters. He had wrinkles around his eyes. But the eyes themselves were bright and dangerous.

"Barnsley," Jamie said leaning against the doorframe. "The noisy neighbors. You lot have been loud lately."

"We like noise," Michael smiled. "Can we come in? Arthur is dissolving in the rain."

Jamie looked at Arthur. He saw the Hawaiian shirt peeking out from under the coat.

"Nice shirt," Jamie grinned. "Come in. Do not wipe your feet. The dog hates clean floors."

They sat in the kitchen. It was surprisingly normal. There were kids drawings on the fridge.

"So," Jamie said cracking open the can. "You want me to sign. I know the script. You want the old fox to come and teach the cubs how to hunt."

"Exactly," Michael said. "We have Danny Fletcher. He scored eighteen goals. But he is nice. He is a Prince. We need a Rat."

Jamie laughed. It was a high pitched cackle.

"A Rat," Jamie repeated. "I like that. Most managers call me experienced. Or a veteran. You call me a Rat. That is honest."

"We are in Europe," Michael continued. "The Conference League. We need someone to come off the bench in the 85th minute when the defenders are tired. We need someone to chase them. Annoy them. And score."

"I can still run," Jamie said. "Not for ninety minutes. My knees scream at me after sixty. But for twenty minutes? I am faster than lightning."

"We offer a one year deal," Michael said. "Pay as you play. Big bonuses for goals."

Jamie tapped his chin.

"Money is fine," Jamie said. "I have enough money to buy a zoo. But I need something else."

"What?" Arthur asked nervously. "A statue?"

"No," Jamie said. "Fun. I played for Leicester for a long time. It was a fairytale. But towards the end it was serious. Stressful. I want to enjoy football again. I want to celebrate in front of the away fans. I want to slide on my knees."

Michael leaned forward.

"Jamie," Michael said. "We have Diego Nunez. He celebrates tackles by roaring. We have Isaiah King. He wears pink boots and streams on Twitch. We are the definition of fun."

Jamie smiled. He extended his hand.

"Okay," Jamie said. "I am in. But one condition."

"Yes?"

"I want a supply of this," he pointed to the energy drink. "In the dressing room. A fridge full of it."

"Done," Michael said shaking his hand.

Arthur let out a breath.

"We just signed a Premier League legend for the price of a fridge," Arthur whispered.

The drive back to Barnsley was buzzing. They had their veteran.

But Michael was not finished.

He sat in the passenger seat with his laptop open on his knees. The car bounced over the potholes but Michael did not notice.

He was looking at numbers.

"Arthur," Michael said. "Do you know the movie Moneyball?"

"Yes," Arthur said driving carefully. "Brad Pitt. He was handsome. He bought players using math."

"We need to use math," Michael said. "We have a problem."

"What problem? We have a great squad."

"Knockout football," Michael said. "In the Conference League games can go to extra time. They can go to penalties. We have Sam Jones in goal. Sam is a great goalkeeper. His reflexes are elite."

Michael turned the screen to Arthur.

"But look at this stat."

SAM JONES PENALTY SAVE PERCENTAGE: 8 PERCENT

"He cannot save penalties," Michael said. "He guesses wrong. Or he dives too early. If we go to a shootout in the Quarter Final we lose."

"So what do we do?" Arthur asked. "Teach him?"

"You cannot teach instinct," Michael said. "We need a specialist."

He typed on the keyboard.

SEARCH PARAMETER: PENALTY SAVE PERCENTAGE > 40 PERCENT

STATUS: BACKUP / UNWANTED

The System whirred. It filtered thousands of goalkeepers. Most were expensive. Most were starters.

But one name appeared at the bottom of the list.

NAME: TIM KRUL

AGE: 37

CLUB: FREE AGENT

PENALTY SAVE PERCENTAGE: 45 PERCENT

"Tim Krul?" Arthur asked. "The guy from the World Cup? The one who came on just for penalties?"

"He is too old," Michael said dismissing it. "We need someone younger. Someone hungry."

He scrolled down.

NAME: JAN VISSER

AGE: 22

CLUB: FC VOLENDAM (DUTCH SECOND DIVISION)

HEIGHT: 202 CM

PENALTY SAVE PERCENTAGE: 52 PERCENT

"Fifty two percent?" Arthur almost drove off the road. "That means he saves every second penalty. That is impossible."

"Read the notes," Michael said.

NOTES: Jan is terrible with his feet. He cannot pass. He is slow off his line. He is currently the third choice goalkeeper because he refuses to play out from the back. But on the line he is a monster. He has a reach like an octopus.

"He is a specialist," Michael said. "A pure specialist. He has no value to anyone else because modern football wants goalkeepers to be midfielders. But to us? He is a weapon."

"Moneyball," Arthur whispered. "Buying an undervalued asset because he does one specific thing perfectly."

"Pull over," Michael said.

Arthur pulled the car into a service station.

Michael picked up his phone. He dialed the number for FC Volendam.

The negotiation was strange.

The Director of Football at Volendam sounded confused.

"You want Jan?" the Director asked. "Jan Visser? The tall boy who trips over his own feet?"

"Yes," Michael said. "We want to offer you one hundred thousand pounds."

"One hundred thousand?" The Director sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "Sir for one hundred thousand I will drive him to England myself. Are you sure you do not want our starting keeper?"

"No," Michael said. "Just Jan."

"Okay," the Director said quickly before Michael could change his mind. "Deal. He is yours."

Michael hung up.

"We got him," Michael said.

"We just bought a goalkeeper who cannot play football," Arthur said looking at his sandwich. "This is either genius or madness."

"It is both," Michael smiled.

Two days later the squad gathered at the training ground.

The atmosphere was electric. The new signings were there.

Enzo Silva the Pitbull was chasing a butterfly in the corner. He looked ready to tackle it.

Jamie Vardy was sitting on a ball drinking his energy drink and telling Danny Fletcher a story about a party in Ibiza.

And Jan Visser was standing in the goal.

He was enormous. He was over two meters tall. His arms were so long he could almost touch both posts at the same time.

"Okay everyone!" Michael shouted blowing his whistle.

The players gathered.

"Welcome back," Michael said. "We have new family members. Enzo. Jamie. Jan."

The players clapped. Diego Nunez hugged Enzo. It looked like a bear hugging a smaller angrier bear.

"Today we have a test," Michael said. "Jan says nobody can score a penalty against him."

The players laughed.

"I can score with my eyes closed," Isaiah King said stepping forward. "I am the King."

"Prove it," Michael said.

Jan Visser walked to the line. He did not look athletic. He looked a bit awkward. He banged his boots against the post.

Isaiah placed the ball on the spot.

"Watch this," Isaiah said to the camera crew filming for the club TikTok.

Isaiah ran up. He did his little stutter step. He waited for the keeper to move.

Jan did not move. He stood perfectly still.

Isaiah panicked. He shot to the left.

Jan simply fell to the left. His massive arm extended.

THUD.

He caught the ball. He did not parry it. He caught it with one hand.

The training ground went silent.

"What?" Isaiah gasped. "He caught it!"

"Next," Michael shouted.

Danny Fletcher stepped up. The top scorer.

He smashed the ball. Power. High.

Jan jumped. He looked like a giant spider. He tipped the ball onto the bar.

CLANG.

"Next!"

Jamie Vardy stepped up.

"Okay big man," Jamie grinned. "Let us see."

Jamie smashed it low and hard into the corner.

Jan dived. His fingertips touched the ball.

It went wide.

Three penalties. Three saves.

The players were staring at Jan like he was an alien.

"How do you do that?" Diego Nunez asked walking over to the giant.

Jan shrugged. He spoke very softly.

"I just look at your knees," Jan said. "The knee tells the truth. The eyes lie. The knee does not lie."

"He is a wizard," Arthur whispered to Michael. "A giant Dutch wizard."

"He is our secret weapon," Michael said. "Imagine it Arthur. Conference League Final. Penalty shootout. We bring on Jan. The other team sees this giant. They are terrified before they even kick the ball."

Michael clapped his hands.

"Okay! Training starts now! Jamie teach Danny how to be annoying! Enzo tackle anyone who moves! Jan... just stand there and be tall!"

The session began.

It was chaos. It was loud.

Enzo Silva tackled Kai Sora. Kai did not even get mad. He just lay on the grass and said "Good tackle little dog."

Jamie Vardy was sprinting faster than players half his age fueled by caffeine and spite.

And in the goal the giant Jan was catching crosses with one hand.

Michael stood on the sideline.

He checked the System.

[SQUAD HARMONY: 95 PERCENT]

[TACTICAL VARIETY: HIGH]

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