Chapter 57
It was early when Scott arrived, the kind of early where the day still felt undecided. Scott was in the office nursing a lukewarm coffee and staring at a whiteboard that had once felt full of possibility but now just looked like a list of names fading in dry ink.
A knock came, two short raps then the door creaked open. Slawomir Sobczak, Ślęza chairman stepped in, coat still draped over his shoulders like he hadn’t planned to stay long.
‘I’ve had a call’ Slawomir said, voice tight, measured with a formal request ‘another club wants to speak with you’. Short, dry and to the point as if he was angered by the conversation.
Scott felt the beat of it in his chest. He leaned back slowly, letting his chair sigh under the weight of his silence ‘Bulgaria, I’ve had a…..’
Slawomir cut him off by shaking his head ‘No, not Bulgaria you got it wrong, it’s Bosnia. Slavia Sarajevo. The chairman is Gojko Drasković. He’s asked if you’ll take a meeting’ and before Scott could say anything he said ‘why did you say Bulgaria, were you expecting someone else?
Scott blinked once. Twice. The name didn’t register right away. It wasn’t the call he’d been expecting, this was another one cut from a different angle. One he hadn’t seen coming or been prepared for.
‘I didn’t think I was on their radar’ he muttered.
‘Well it looks like you are now Scott’
The room sat quiet for a moment, a thin stretch of space between here and whatever might come next.
‘Tell him I’ll take the call’ Scott said finally, his voice calm but a step slower than usual. ‘Doesn’t hurt to listen’
Slawomir nodded, and left the door half open as he walked out. Scott stayed seated, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
The meeting was arranged and was held in a tucked away room at a hotel on the edge of town, the kind of place where the wallpaper didn’t match the furniture and the lighting made everything feel like a secret. Scott arrived five minutes early but waited in the corridor until the minute hand landed squarely on the hour. He walked in like a man stepping onto uncertain ground. Because he was.
Gojko Drasković was already there. Tall, immaculately dressed, but not flashy. The kind of man who could disappear in a crowd or dominate a room, depending on what he needed. His handshake was firm. Too firm. Like he wanted to remind Scott that everything about this was real.
‘Scott’ he said, gesturing to the seat across from him ‘thank you for coming. I don’t believe in wasting time, so I’ll be direct’
Scott nodded. He’d expected as much. He sat, spine straight, hands folded loosely.
‘You know our situation’ Gojko said ‘bottom of the league. One win all season it’s not good enough. Morale shot all the way to ****. But Slavija Sarajevo, we are not a small club. We have history. And now, we need a rebirth. I’ve read about your work at Ślęza. You save a team and then you build. That’s what we need’
Scott listened, eyes steady, his mind less so. Bosnia. A new country. A team in freefall. It wasn’t just a gamble, it was more like stepping off a ledge and trusting that the wind would carry him. Here in Wrocław he had a squad, a system. Familiarity. But comfort didn’t win titles or cups.
He thought of the players, Leandro, Koftas, Malania, Kwiatkowski. The conversations he held daily, the silent handshakes in the tunnel before kickoff. He thought of the cold nights reviewing tactics with Peter, the quiet satisfaction of watching a plan come together on the pitch.
But then he thought of the wall he’d hit. The unspoken sense that maybe, just maybe, he’d taken Ślęza as far as he could. Promotions were dreams. Titles were ambitions. But stagnation…..that was the death of a manager.
Gojko leaned forward ‘I am not going to lie to you, this is a rescue job. If we go down, the damage will probably be long term. We need someone bold enough to turn the tide. You’ve done that before with a points deduction’
Scott looked at him, seeing both a challenge and a warning. The kind of job that could break a man. Or make him.
‘I also won’t lie, I am intrigued’ Scott said quietly.
‘But?’
‘There’s always a but’ He didn’t say it, but it hung between them. The timing. The loyalty. The weight of leaving halfway through a season. Ślęza wasn’t just a job, it was something closer to home.
Still…..Sarajevo. A new language, a new league, a new fight with a new team. A clean slate.
Gojko gave a slight smile ‘sleep on it. But not too long. I can’t wait forever for an answer. I’m against the clock here’
Scott left the room feeling the ground shift beneath him, just enough to make him question whether staying still was the right kind of safe.
Outside, the world kept moving like it didn’t care about decisions made in quiet hotel rooms. But inside, something had changed. And change, once it starts, doesn’t stop just because you ask it to.
== == == == ==
Scott drove through the city like it might offer an answer, headlights tracing a path that felt more symbolic than necessary. He ended up at the training ground not out of duty, but instinct. The place was dark, save for the low glow from the office windows. Peter was there, as expected, his coat slung over a chair, face lit by the bluish hue of a laptop screen. Marcin sat across from him, spinning a pen between his fingers with a casual rhythm that only half disguised his worry.
They looked up when Scott stepped in and the silence that followed was the kind that said everything had changed, even if no one said a word.
Peter leaned back ‘so… it’s not Sofia, is it?’
Scott shook his head slowly ‘no, it’s in Sarajevo.’
Marcin whistled, low and thoughtful ’Bosnia. Didn’t see that one coming’
‘They’re bottom of the league’ Scott said ‘one win all season. The chairman wants me to take over’ before either man could say anything Scott continued ‘I don’t think even we could save them at this point’
Peter frowned like he was bracing himself for bad news ‘forget that for now, what is it you want?’
That was the question, wasn’t it? ‘I don’t know, genuinely don’t know’ Scott admitted ‘they’re in a mess there and will probably go down, and if they do will I get kept on to lead the charge back up? It is a top division job and a competitive league, and a clean slate. I’ve kept thinking all day if this is the next step. Do I, do we (he emphasised the word) jump now from a secure job, a team challenging for promotion to the top league to a team struggling to stay in a top league? What does staying here mean, are we just repeating ourselves?'
Marcin spoke up, tone steady as always ‘you’ve done a **** of a job here. No one can argue that. If you leave, it’s not betrayal. It’s evolution. But leaving now, mid season, I’m sure you’d want to finish what you started, and that’s getting promoted. And if we do we’re definitely staying, if not, well then that’s a conversation for then isn’t it’
‘I’m not asking for permission’ Scott then said but a bit softer than he meant to ‘I needed to hear it from you two’
Peter was already shaking his head ‘you knew exactly what we’d say, so I’ll say it anyway, if you go, I go. Same for Marcin’
Marcin gave a small nod ‘yes, absolutely. We’d both go with you. But I’ll be blunt, Scott, I don’t want to, not yet anyway. Not like this. Walking out with the job half done. Promotion is there, fingertips away’
Scott looked down at his hands. They’d built something together, stitched it together out of loans, cast offs and belief. And here he was, contemplating stepping away from it mid season.
Marcin then stood up, walked over, and put a hand on Scott’s shoulder ‘whatever you decide’ he said ‘you won’t be alone. But just think hard about the timing. You’ve proved you can take a team further than it should go. You’ve earned more than this league can give. But there's a legacy here, too. Don’t walk away from it just because someone flashed the lights in a different direction’
Scott nodded. The truth was, he didn’t know what he’d say to Drasković. Not yet.
But the pull of the unknown was louder than it had ever been.
And whether he admitted it or not, the door had cracked open. The question now was whether he had the guts to walk through it or if he had the discipline to close it again.
