Monday Morning, August 9th, 2022 - Nike Italy Headquarters, Milan

Sophia's heels clicked against the polished marble as she ended the call with Demien, her phone still warm against her palm; the conversation had left her smiling, and the knot in her chest felt looser than it had in days.

The elevator doors opened on the third floor, and she stepped into the corridor where voices carried through the conference room door—executive voices, sharp and overlapping, the kind that meant someone was fighting for budget allocation.

She paused outside the door, straightened her blazer, and checked her reflection in the glass partition; the smile faded, replaced by something harder, more focused.

Time to work.

The conference room opened before her, and she slipped inside quietly; twelve executives sat around the long table, laptops open, presentations projected on the wall behind them, and Marcus Marino stood at the front—Senior VP of Athlete Relations, mid-forties, ex-Stanford, ruthlessly efficient.

"—Yamal is wearing our boots right now but we can't capitalize on it," Marcus was saying as he gestured at the screen where training footage showed the fifteen-year-old Barcelona academy player in Nike gear. "He's in our youth program, family signed the academy deal, everything's in place, but Adidas is already positioning to poach him the moment he turns professional through their Barcelona partnerships, and I'm hearing they're offering the family pre-agreements that we legally can't match until he's at least seventeen."

Sophia moved to the back of the room and leaned against the wall; no one noticed her yet, which was exactly how she wanted it.

"Can't we upgrade the deal now?" asked Jennifer Park, Director of European Scouting, leaning forward. "Increase the terms, add performance bonuses, lock him in before Adidas makes their move?"

"His current deal is a youth academy sponsorship," Marcus replied, jaw tight. "Boots and small stipend, standard for academy players, we can increase it marginally but we can't offer him a signature line or major money until he's actually playing professional football, and by then Adidas will be waving Messi comparisons and generational talent contracts that make our youth deal look like pocket change."

"So we have him now but we're going to lose him later," Jennifer said, frustration bleeding through her voice.

"Exactly like Bellingham," interrupted David Rossi, VP of Product Innovation, his Italian accent thick even in English. "We had him in Nike boots at Birmingham's academy, small deal, everyone happy, then the moment he signed professionally Adidas came in with massive terms and Real Madrid connections and we couldn't compete, same pattern repeating with Yamal and we're just watching it happen again."

"Then what's the alternative?" Marcus shot back. "We can't offer academy kids professional-level contracts before they've played a single senior game, the risk is too high and the regulations around youth sponsorships limit what we can structure, but if we wait until they're established then we're competing against Adidas and Puma with the same money but less leverage."

The room went quiet for a moment; the tension sat heavy, and Sophia could see the problem clearly laid out like a chessboard with missing pieces.

"And now our Next Gen program launches in three months without a flagship," Marcus continued, his voice cutting across the silence. "Yamal is in our boots but he's not locked down long-term, Adidas has Bellingham and Musiala already signed to major deals, Pedri just renewed with them instead of coming to us, they have the faces of youth football and we have academy kids who might leave us the moment they turn professional, that's not a program, that's a pipeline to our competitors."

The room went quiet for a moment; the tension sat heavy, and Sophia could see the problem clearly laid out like a chessboard with missing pieces.

"What about other prospects?" asked Elena Moretti, Head of Brand Partnerships, leaning forward with her tablet glowing. "We have a list of sixty-three players globally who fit the age demographic and talent profile, there must be someone we can move on quickly without the Yamal mess hanging over us."

"The list is garbage," Marcus said bluntly, and he clicked to the next slide where names appeared in small font—prospects from Brazil, Spain, France, England, all circled in red with notes beside them. "Half are already signed with Adidas or Puma, another quarter won't be professional for two years minimum, and the rest are maybes at best, nothing that moves the needle commercially or validates a hundred-million-dollar program launch."

"Then we wait," Jennifer said, crossing her arms. "We launch Next Gen with the roster we have, we focus on the product innovation rather than the athlete marketing, and we circle back on Yamal or the next big prospect when timing aligns properly."

"That's a coward's strategy," Marcus replied, and his voice cut across the room like glass. "Adidas launched their youth program with Bellingham, Musiala, and now Yamal as the faces, three generational talents who validate their entire brand narrative about developing the next era of football, and you're telling me we should launch with product features and no story?"

"I'm telling you," Jennifer said evenly, "that chasing sixteen-year-olds who might flame out in two years is a waste of resources when we could be building relationships with established stars in their early twenties who have proven track records and lower risk profiles."

"Lower risk, lower reward," Marcus countered immediately. "You sign a twenty-three-year-old and you get three good years before they peak and demand Messi money, you sign a sixteen-year-old and you own their entire career trajectory if they pan out, the ROI isn't even comparable."

"If they pan out," David emphasized, leaning back in his chair. "You're gambling millions on teenagers who haven't played a single professional season, one bad injury or attitude problem and the investment disappears overnight."

The room shifted again; arguments layered on top of each other, voices rising, and Sophia watched the dynamics play out—Marcus pushing for aggressive moves, Jennifer advocating caution, David focused on product over personality, Elena trying to find middle ground that satisfied no one.

Then Thomas Holland spoke, VP of Global Marketing, quiet until now, British accent crisp and measured.

"What about Walter?"

The room paused; Marcus turned, eyebrows raised.

"Who?"

"Demien Walter," Thomas continued, pulling up his phone and swiping through screenshots. "Eighteen years old, just made his Serie A debut for Atalanta yesterday, scored two goals including a rainbow flick volley that's been viewed eight million times in the last twenty-four hours, trending across every social media platform, and currently unsigned to any footwear brand according to our market intelligence."

Marcus frowned, leaning forward. "I don't know that name."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.