I took a sip of my drink and looked through the window, beyond the lit modern day architecture but out at the world. Thinking about how things change so quickly and how life likes to leaving you wondering - What if?
“What if I didn’t get into that car that night Cesare?” I mumbled, almost asking myself but enough for him to hear me. “What if...I focused and developed myself as a player?”
What if?
--
Introduction:
Hey guys. So as some of you may know, my story Locke, Stock and Two Smoking Bullswas lost due to software problems. Undeterred however, I wanted to jump back right into writing another Fm-base story. So after talking it over with Lippo and Patrick, this is what I’ve decided to do. Due to having some attachment to my original main characters from the first story - Matteo Mateschitz-Locke and Cesare Vincenzi and wanting to start a completely different story following another character. I’ve decided to do both!
This will be a B.A.P style story. It will follow the lives of the original two, Matteo and Cesare as well as one new character who will be not only the main character in this, but my main character for my story I will probably write for FM16.
The players will themselves will be Matteo and the new lead character, while Cesare will play his usual supporting role. This will serve as an alternate universe, so to speak and nothing that happened in Locke, Stock and Two Smoking Bulls when and after Matteo was convicted will play any real part here. As both sets of characters have no relation to each other at the start, i’ll alternate the telling between them and who knows, maybe someday they end up meeting?
There was a loud thud on my door. “Get your **** out of bed! We have training boy!” a grizzly voice bellowed. I jumped up and rubbed my eyes as I tried to adjust to the light of morning. “Come on Ezra! You’ll get nowhere in life if you don’t get up and run towards what you want!” he continued shouting. “Eric...it’s too early to start being hard on him again,” I heard mother say quietly behind the door.
My dad had a crazy way of doing things but he was right. I needed to get up and get going. Today he was making me run for 15 miles then we would work on my heading and put in more work on my passing which was coming along better. He wanted me to be a more complete player and ready for my trial with local club Port Vale in a week.
As they both quietly argued what they considered to be “hard” behind the door, I slipped out of bed and started getting ready. As customary on training days with dad, I measured my height and weight to see if I was bulking up. I was only 16 but dad said I needed to have the strength of a 30 year old, mentally and physically, to make it big. Next I slipped on my now tattered ‘98/’99 full Manchester United kit. That was a legendary season for my favorite club and wearing the kit always gave me an extra boost. One that I needed today. I grabbed my shoes and looked in the mirror. My dark brown eyes looked back at me and I could see the hunger. From the top of my curly black covered crown all the way down to the curve of my big toe.
Unfortunately, this hunger was literal as much as it was figurative and I opened the door to my parents. “Morning you two!” I said with a beaming smile. “5ft 10 and 156 pounds dad,” I told him my measurements before heading off to the kitchen.
“See? You’ve created a monster,” my mom said to him. Though I wasn’t looking at her, I knew she was smiling and shaking her head in response to his grin. He loved seeing me this prepared and ready.
--
Later that day, I laid exhausted on the grass of the local field. I could barely feel my limbs. It was another long and arduous day training with dad and I certainly felt the burn and so much more. “What’s your name boy?” my dad asked as he dropped to a sit beside me. “Ezra. Ezra Morrison,” I responded through my heavy breathing. “Repeat it. What’s your name?” he again asked. “Ezra Morrison!” I shouted with confidence. “That’s my boy. Know your name. Say it with belief and someday, you’ll hear them singing it from the stands!” he shouted.
That was our ritual. Everyday after training he would make me shout my name. My dad wanted me to have a long and successful career. Eric Morrison, 50 year old lawyer who grew up right here in Stoke-on-Trent. He was pretty good at what he did and could move out of this city whenever he wanted to but he and his father, and his grandfather and his grandfather’s father and so on and so on grew up here and not one of them left. He married my mother, Elizabeth, when they were both 22 after being highschool sweethearts. They never left each other’s side and that being said, my mother too went to law school with him and became a lawyer.
So why wasn’t I being groomed to follow in their footsteps? Well, the trend for the Morrison men was to never break tradition. So they all grew up and stayed in Stoke-on-Trent, they all married fairly young and they all became successful lawyers. My dad wanted me to finally break that. Be the one to be free. Why?. When he was 12 he watched his first football game and knew that’s what he wanted to do and he expressed this to his father. He would work every weekend just like he has me working now towards this - much to his father’s chagrin. Then one day, his father had enough when my father was spotted by him talking to a scout. Dad said all the teles in his house were removed and the phones were disconnected. Football magazines were replaced with books about history and law and he wasn’t allowed to leave the house unsupervised again. It was a total lockdown and there was nothing he could do about it. So that’s when he promised my mother as soon as I was born - “Whatever he wants to do, I’ll help him to do it. Help him to be his own man. Not a Morrison.” It just worked out in his favor that as soon as I was able to walk, I soon followed it with being able to kick a ball. By the time I was 7, I knew I wanted to play football and nothing made my father happier. He was not only helping me to achieve my dream but living his through me.
“What do you mean you’re going to be one of my agents?” I asked as I threw my kit bag in the corner of the room. I had just come home from training with the Crystal Palace youth team. “You don’t have an agent yet. That’ll be me and Jamie Allen” Cesare explained as he opened our fridge. “We need food,” he mumbled, “let’s go grab a bite out.” I groaned at the thought of having to walk anywhere again but I was indeed starving and obliged.
We stopped by a deli close by and had started eating. With my mouth stuffed, I mumbled out, “So what’s this about being my agent?”
Cesare took a sip of his drink through his straw and rolled his eyes. “Have some grace about you man. Are you this sloppy in training?”
I rolled my eyes and continue chewing away.
“I’m going to be your agent. I’ve already done the test through the FA and I’m licensed but I’m young and have no experience. So, I spoke to your mom as well and she thinks it’s a fantastic idea and put me on to a fairly respected agent she knew named Jamie Allen. He and I spoke for a few weeks and he agreed to help me out with you,” Cesare explained.
I slurped my drink and then burped. “Nice. So does that mean you’ll negotiate a better contract from Palace for me when they decide to give me a full-time deal instead of this youth one?”
“It means I’ll be there along with Mr. Allen to make sure signing a new one will be in your best interest, yes. We’re going to take on the world now Matteo! I imagine you’ll become a big hit in the Premier League once Palace gives you your debut! Clubs will take notice of you and I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way.”
“Ambitious as always Cesare. The gaffer says I need to work on my attitude before he gives me a debut. Says I’m too temperamental or some ****. He does say I have good potential to make it though, so who knows,” I said as I eased back into my chair and looked around.
Even though I had a nonchalant attitude to it all. Making it in football was a big thing for me and Cesare being my agent was exactly what I needed. He was a level head for me and his decision making was always top. Who knows where our partnership could lead us? Right now, one thing was certain though - I needed to push on from youth team football.
The noise we made was loud as we ran out the car, up the driveway and towards the door. Dad didn’t even bother to park. “We did it! We did it! We did it!” our chants were loud and I heard mum drop a plate in the kitchen. “What in the world are you two on about!?” she said rushing to the door in fright. “What happened!? Did what?” I hugged her tightly while dad jumped in on the hug too and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.
“He’s on the team Liz!” he shouted before grabbing me and hugging me for what must have been 60th time since we got the news.
“He is!? Ohh honey,” she pulled me from my father and gave me her own hug. “I’m so proud of you. Tell me everything. Come come, let me get you two dinner.”
Mum had made my favorite creamy potato salad with roast chicken. Could this day get any better!?
“Well, we got there early and dad made me warm up. The coach was impressed with that. I went through the motions to show them what I could do,” I started explaining. "Before long, they were talking to dad and said that they saw potential in me and would be glad to have me on board. Dad immediately called Mr. Gray to come on over and hash out my contract with them!"
“Yeah hon. Michael Gray - you met him at the firm’s dinner once. He’s an agent. Doesn’t have many clients and he’s agreed to work with me on Ezra’s future,” dad answered her.
“Oh that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed excitedly.
“Right? They were so impressed they said I’d be too good for the U-18 team so they’ll have me playing with the reserve/U-21 team. I can’t wait mom!”
That night I stayed outside juggling the ball around and daydreaming. I could see my name in the headlines. I could see myself in the Manchester United kit scoring a winning derby goal and pointing to the stands to my parents. It starts here.
Thanks for following! So, you'll realize Ezra actually has a face. After downloading and installing he player faces again after I had finished creating him, I went back into the game and to my surprise - he now had a real mug! I found it amusing haha. Can anyone tell me if they actually know whose face that is? Or why it would have done that? Anyways, it worked out well and has definitely given the character more life for me.
Come on. Pass it my way. I'm in acres of space here. Here it comes...got it! Time to run at them! I've beaten one...time for a one-t-OW!!
I pulled up running and immediately fell to the floor in agony. There was a hellish sensation coming from the inside of my knee. I rolled grimacing and clutching to the grass blades. Before I knew it there were physios over me telling to me to relax as much as they could. Poking around my left foot with their fingers. I winced. Stop the torture!
Just a matter of hours later it was confirmed, I strained my knee ligaments. I was going to be out for 6-8 weeks they said.
That would mean I'd miss the start of the season, be it youth team or senior team, I wasn't going to be playing. **** it.
"How are you Matty?" Cesare asked standing at the door of my room. I was sitting up in bend with my leg stretched out on my bed. I couldn't help but stare at it. This was my first real injury. So soon after signing a professional contract with the club at that. Such luck.
"I'll be fine," I responded downbeat. He walked in and gave me a bottle of water.
"Yes you will be. This is just a momentary pause in a career I'm sure will take off. You'll overcome this and come back stronger than ever," he tried consoling me. For his sake, I hope he was right. I can't imagine what I would be like if I didn't make it. I'd probably spend my days inside away from life watching football documentaries on Netflix. Ha...maybe. "You're right. Besides, it's the best time to be out probably. Before the season is in full swing. Maybe I can impress when I'm back and finally get that senior debut," I tried to sound as positive as I could be. "That's the spirit Matty! You got this!"
I coughed loudly, waiting for a piece of my lung to come flying into my mouth and out. How do I manage to get a flu at this important time? Mom did tell dad and I not to train in the rain on all those days last week. Yet, he isn't sick though.
"Come on hunnie, take this," Mom walked on over to the couch I was on with a spoon with a green syrup. Yuck.
"Did the physios from the club send it over?" I asked. I couldn't risk taking anything I shouldn't.
"Yes my little professional. Now take it and let's get you into bed. You'll be back in training next week. Let's get all the rest we can now," she said as she ran her hands through my hair before feeling my forehead for a fever.
I obliged.
--
I'm ready for this. I'm ready for this. I'm Ezra Morrison. Ezra. Morrison. They'll sing my name through the stands one day.
It was time. Fresh off signing my professional contract on my birthday last week, I was about to compete in my first game. It wasn't the senior team but instead, the U-18 team but that didn't matter to me. I was ready. Mom and dad were in the stands along with Mr. Gray and a few family friends to see this one. I needed to impress them all. We were playing the Shrewsbury U-18 squad this time around. "You're better than all of them - show them," dad said on our way to the game. I was ready.
I did just what dad asked in the 32nd minute. I got a ball to my feet and with only 2 defenders in my way, I showed what I could do. I danced my way past the first challenge and slipped the ball through the legs of the next defender before driving home a low shot. I was elated! My first goal for Port Vale. It wouldn't count to my senior records but like I said, I didn't care. We were 2-0 down and this goal gave the team and me hope. In the 70th minute, I did it again. This time being teed up nicely in the box and curling a shot home. I wasn't done there either - just 9 minutes later I turned provider and provided the assist for the goal that ultimately won the game. My teammates were proud of me and I received plenty hugs and pats on the head all throughout the day.
"You did excellently Ezra. Brilliant display!" dad said as he pulled me in for the biggest hug of all. I was beaming.
--
"You're in tomorrow's team lad. You've done well in the 2 games you've played for the u-18 team so far and I think you're ready." I stood there in awe at the words I just heard. The first team? Already? Yes, I've already scored 3 goals in 2 youth team games but I still didn't expect to be given such a chance already. I grabbed the gaffer's hand and shaked it rapidly with gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I couldn't get any other words out.
"You're welcome lad. Report here early tomorrow so the team can go over the game plan," he said before getting his hand free and walking away.
I ran home that day to announce the big news. Understandably more hugs came my way and I was sure by now that my first injury would be a strained back from all the tight embraces. What a headline that would make.
The next day, I started the game on the bench. Port Vale's form has been poor so far in the season's first few games as we haven't won a single game yet. Maybe I could change that? The atmosphere was great however with the fans singing and chanting in our little stadium. I wasn't sure where they were sitting but I knew mom and dad were here eagerly waiting to see if I'd come on and sure enough - I did. The boss sent me on 4 minutes into the second half. As I stood on the touchline, hands sweating and heart pounding with the # 70 on my back and my first name Ezra printed above it. I had chosen the number 70 to represent when I scored my second goal in that youth game. I noted that as the moment that got me this moment. . I could feel the eyes on me. This would be their first time seeing me step onto their pitch and don their shirt. I needed to make them proud.
"How did it feel?" dad asked on the drive home. "Immense. Surreal. I'm still feeling the jitters," I responded while I looked through the back window of our car. "You looked good out there in your kit. Seeing your run around on that pitch with your name on the back reminded me of when you were just a toddler. Your father got you your first Manchester United kit with your name. You never wanted to take it off," mom said in a motherly reflective tone. I could feel their sense of pride and I couldn't help but smile.
"Just be sure to keep your head down now. Don't think this means our training sessions end because you have a senior cap under your belt. You need to push on from here," dad said making sure I don't get complacent. "I know. I'm raring to go again. Be it U-18 or senior. They'll sing my name!"
"I thought I'd find you out here," mom said as she stood at the side of the field. I was doing fitness drills to keep myself in shape. It's also what I did to clear my mind whenever I felt bothered. I would just get up and run. I must have been out here two or three hours because I really didn't realize it had gotten dark to the point where they needed to turn on the lights around the field.
"H-hey mom. What...what brings you out here?" I stopped sprinting in one spot and caught my breath.
"I called at your apartment for you and Cesare said he came home and didn't see you. He said you have had a lot on your mind recently so I thought...where does my baby boy go when he has a lot on his mind?" she started explaining, "It was either a bar or a big open field. So here I am," she said smiling proudly of her motherly intuition.
I gave a half smile. I loved she could find me but really I didn't want to be found right now.
"What's wrong my little Matty?" she asked pleadingly as she brushed my hair away behind my ears. "You need to cut this by the way," she said referring to my long blonde hair I never like cutting.
"I...I don't know. I'm just frustrated that's all," I said looking in the distance.
"Why?"
"Because mom...I'm not where I want to be right now. I haven't made a single senior appearance for the club," I explained in a downbeat tone.
"And? You're only 17 love. You have plenty of time ahead of you. I've come to all 6 of your starts for the U-21 team and I know you'll get your chance. You've scored 2 good goals there and set up another 3. That's not bad at all love. Stop pressuring yourself so much," she said comforting me.
"I don't know. I just hoped I'd have more to show apart from this **** bruise on cheek which I would have hoped to have fade by now," I said in reference to a facial injury I picked up in training. My cheek was still reddish purple and it was unflattering as far as I was concerned.
"I know, I know. It fades longer because you're so pretty love," she said tongue in cheek. "Seriously though, just be patient. Your time will come and soon I'll write an article or even oversee an article about my son taking on the world of football."
"You really think I can take on the football world mom?" I asked looking right in her eyes.
She smiled warmly and held my face. "You can do whatever you want. You're Matteo Locke. I know you're pressuring yourself because of your dad but stop thinking about him. You're Matteo Locke. Not Mateschitz. You don't need to prove anything to him or anyone else."
She knew me so well. I was being extra hard on myself because of my father Dietrich Mateschitz. He was a successful business man and was making his way into the football world by owning clubs through his Red Bull brand. We didn't have the best of relationships but I knew he wanted to see me succeed here. To make it to the highest level of the game. Mom was right though, I had nothing to prove to him or anyone else. I was doing this for me, for her and for Cesare and to them, I was already a superstar.
It was January and I had just watched a stream of the Balon d'Or grand gala ceremony. What an honor it would be to lift that for myself. 6 months on from being signed up by Port Vale, I was steadily making my name locally. I even gave a short interview after I scored my first senior goal for Port Vale against Bristol City. What a moment that was for me. That wasn't my first goal this season however. The gaffer and youth coaches and made me play in plenty of different competitions so far. 3 senior appearances, all from the bench and a start in the St. Johnstone's Paint Trophy is what I had to boast about in terms of senior chances. Overall though I have started 15 games, with 5 substitute appearances with a goal return of 8 across the board as well as 3 assists and 2 man of the match performances. It wasn't too shabby if I said so myself.
Dad of course wanted more. He wanted me to be a regular in the first team now so when the gaffer told me he was going to put me up for loan because he felt more first team appearances would increase my development at a higher rate, dad was the first to be pleased. Of course, a loan meant that I would move away from home for the next 6 months. Mom didn't like this idea at all. So when I got this cold that kept me at home for the next 2 days, she jumped on the opportunity to baby me.
"Come on hon, time for some soup," she said bringing a bowl to me.
I was never going to refuse food though and gladly accepted it.
"You know, mom. The boss says that Bristol Rovers are interested in me. I would only be about two hours away. That's not so bad," I said in an attempt to make her feel more relieved.
"Hmm..I guess not," she mumbled, "but you'd be living on your own. It's such a big step," she continued defiantly.
"The lad is a professional footballer Liz. He's got plenty of big steps to take." Dad walked into the room intervening. I was so into my soup that I didn't even hear the car pull up.
"Hey dad! Didn’t hear you come in," I said greeting him while cooling my soup.
"Hey sport. How are you feeling now?" he said running his hand through my hair.
"Raring to go back out there. Did you hear about the Bristol interest?"
"I did. I was actually just talking to Michael about it. He said he'd keep me posted," dad said as he sat across from me.
I didn't know much about Bristol Rovers aside from the fact they were down a league from Port Vale. That means I'd be guaranteed to get starting games. I was willing to take whatever chance I got really. That could prove vital come next season. Chapter 4 Matteo – Push On
After my chat with mom I was much more at eased. It also helped that the gaffer reassured me that I had potential and made a senior player link up with me to teach me the know-hows to the tactical side of the game. I had been playing more in the U-21 squad too with 15 appearances, 4 from the bench.
I looked decent in my games too. All I wanted to do was push on from here.
There wasn't much to report on Matteo this time around so he has a shorter update so I decided to combine them. Next update comes later though to make up for it.
“Do you even lift, bro?” he said annoyingly as I walked towards him. He sat on top of his car dusting off the nose of his boot. He didn’t look any different from the day he left. Still sporting a slick fauxhawk with fiery red tips and his trademark sleeveless leather jacket that revealed his many tattoos. “Are you calling me fat or…?” I asked as I looked at him. It has really been a while since I’ve seen him. “No, no. You look good. Built up really,” he said chuckling. Then he climbed off his car and gave me a hug. “It’s been so long Ezra. Good to see you again.”
It was good to see him again. He was Vince Johnson, my oldest friend. We met when I was 8 at a training camp. One day, waiting for my dad to pick me up, I was taking shots at goal on the pitch. A group of older boys came over and started picking on me. Telling me I had no skill and a poor nobody like me would get nowhere in the football world. They took my ball and started shoving me around. Vince was on hand to defend me. We got our ***** kicked of course, but we were buds ever since that day. Dad also taught us how to fight thereafter. This inspired Vince, or VJ, to take up boxing and that made him stop playing football. That didn’t mean he stopped caring about the game though as he was always on hand to watch me at camps that followed or any games I had.
He moved away when I was 11. After his grandfather had died, he and his parents moved to the United States to take over the family business. The last time I saw him was when I was 13. Afterward he would only write or call to check up on me. As soon as he was 18 his father started grooming him to be the heir to their business. VJ didn’t mind doing this though. Next to boxing, his dream was to be free. “I may be basically selling my right to choose my future to the business but I profit by being rich I suppose. I can do whatever I want being my own boss.” That was his reasoning when I asked him what it all felt like on one phone call. He wasn’t arrogant and very down to earth. If you looked at him, you would never believe he’s worth millions! He didn’t believe in a flashy lifestyle. It’s what made us such great friends – our outlook on life.
“It has been long. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” I asked him snapping back from memory lane.
“It was a spur of the moment thing. I had a meeting in The Netherlands. After getting back to my hotel, I laid in bed and thought, ‘I should go see Ezra.’ So, here I am,” he explained. He then took a newspaper from off the car where he was sitting and spread it open. “I arrive at the airport and look what I see!” he shouted before turning it around and reading, “Ezra Morrison, the 17 year old Port Vale attacking youth prospect has been named in the Skybet League 1 Team of the Week after a fine performance. Look, they even have your picture! Beefy!”
I had grown a bit more. Now 5’11 and 163 pounds. I also had appeared 6 times for the senior team now, with 2 starts and 4 sub appearances with a return of 1 goal and 2 assists.
“I didn’t even see this. Someone had called for a short interview but I declined. I guess this was why,” I said as I took the paper from him.
“Still hiding from the spotlight huh? At this rate, you won’t be able to hide for long,” he said as he headed to the door of his car. “Come on, let’s go for a drive. Do you still eat a lot? Let’s get some food.”
“I can never say no to food!” I laughed as I hopped in the car.
“How’s your mom taking your career? She must be worried you’re going to leave her soon,” he asked starting the car. The engine purred beautifully.
“This…this is a nice car. What is it?” I asked ignoring his question first as I looked on the interior of the car before answering, “Yeah, she’s worried. Back in January she was afraid I would have left when I was linked with a loan move to Bristol Rovers. I damaged my heel in training though so the move didn’t materialize and the gaffer decided to keep me on for the season in and around the first team.”
“Like it huh? It’s an Audi R8. Bit flashy but gets the job done. Want one?” he asked chuckling. If I said yes though, I know he would get me one. “Ah, your mom is still a worry bug huh? Bet she wouldn’t mind if you stuck to the Morrison curse but alas, I’m sure she knows you’ll be on the move sooner rather than later.” “No no. I’m fine,” I laughed, “Maybe one day when I move out, I’ll buy a car as well. I’m sure mom will insist.” “Or I can buy you one. Really I don’t mind,” he chuckled again. Once more serious as ever. “Speaking of your mom, do you think I could come by for dinner tonight? Been a while since I’ve seen her and your dad.” “You know I can’t say no to that. How long are you staying this time around?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he said, “Let’s get dinner now! Starving Ezra.”
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Matteo! Happy birthday to you!” the chorus sang. It was my 18th birthday and Cesare and mom planned a surprise party for me. It was a warm feeling to see a room full of love ones. Mom, my grandparents, Cesare and the Vincenzi’s were there. As well as a couple other friends Cesare and I shared.
“Matty!” Celia ran over to me squeezing me tightly. She was Cesare’s 12 year old sister and I treated her like my little sister too. “I made this for you,” she said holding my hand and slipping on a bracelet that had the word ‘superstar’ sewn on. I smiled and hugged her, “Thank you Celia.”
Ciro was next to come over. He was their oldest brother at 26 and a massive guy. He put me in his trademark headlock and ruffled my hair. “Now I don’t have to sneak you in clubs lil’ Matty!” he said as I fought for my release. “I didn’t know what to get you, so I thought seeing me would be enough for!” he said as he gripped my head tighter.
“Alright, alright Ciro. Let him go before he passes out,” Mr. Vincenzi pleaded. Next to him was Mrs. Vincenzi who hugged me tightly when Ciro released me. “Buon compleanno Matteo,” she said as she kissed my cheek. “You’re growing into a dashing young man.”
“Not as dashing as me though, right ma!?” Cesare shouted from the group he was with. I’m not sure how he heard that. She ignored him while we all laughed.
“Dashing and he’ll develop into a fine footballer too. Maybe one day he’ll don the A.C Milan shirt,” Mr. Vincenzi said.
It was good having family around me. Having not broken into the first team yet and feeling like my development had slowed down, it was good to have these moments to keep my morale up.
--
Later on in the month the season ended and Crystal Palace’s relegation was confirmed having finished 19th. I didn’t make any more U-21 appearances either and I was beginning to question whether it was time to look for a new club or another career. Things took a semi-positive turn though when the club switched managers and the new one immediately came in and told me he had big plans for me for the future but wanted me to get first team games under my belt so he was listing me for loan. So now, I was content with waiting to see what would happen.
The season had ended and my first year in football was now over. Dad compiled all my statistics for me and I was going over them in my room. The team finished in 15th place and I didn’t add to my 6 first team appearances I had made earlier in the season. I did help the U-18 team finish as champions in their league though. I played 11 of the 18 possible games, starting 7. I finished with 7 goals and 3rd in the goal-scoring charts so overall I was pleased with myself.
My name was also in the local newspaper a bit more now with Burnley and Reading registering an interest in me. I felt honored really as both clubs were going to be in the Premier League next season. Burnley finished 17th in their season in the Premier League while Reading earned promotion.
