Harbinger Of Glory

”But that’s enough from me. You probably have questions.”

Leo looked down at his glass for a moment, swirling the apple juice absently before looking up again with the faint trace of a smile that said he wasn’t entirely unmoved.

”I do,” he said finally, setting the glass down.

He finally leaned in slightly, setting his glass down.

”You’ve said a lot about what you’d do for me, and it sounds good, don’t get me wrong, but I want to know... what’s in it for me? Like, really in it for me.”

Noah tilted his head, a small, approving smile forming.

”Good. You should ask that.”

Leo nodded slightly.

”Because, I mean, agents talk. I’ve heard stories online... some players end up barely knowing what’s in their contracts. Some lose control over sponsorships, image rights, or even who gets to negotiate what on their behalf. I don’t want to just sign and wake up later realising I gave away half of my name if I should be able to have any.”

He paused, watching Noah’s reaction.

Noah leaned back, folding his arms.

”That’s fair. And you’re not wrong, some agents work like that. But you’re smart to bring it up before even thinking of signing anything. Let me break it down.”

He reached into his folder and slid a few papers out, not contracts, but examples.

”Let’s start with structure. Most player-agent agreements operate on a commission model—typically 5 to 10% of the player’s gross salary. It can go higher, especially if the agent covers personal branding, PR, or legal costs.”

”As I said, I go for 5% but I never push beyond 7%. That’s industry standard. People like Jorge Mendes might go higher, but that’s because they’re essentially entire agencies themselves. I’m not trying to own your image, Leo. I’m trying to manage it.”

Leo’s eyes flickered over the sheets, recognising names, some he knew well from headlines.

”So this 5 to7%, does it come from my club salary or sponsorships too?”

”Good question,” Noah said, his voice almost pleased.

”It depends on what we agree to. Typically, the commission is tied only to your playing contract, the wages and bonuses negotiated with your club. Sponsorships and endorsements are separate.”

”Some agents try to link everything under one deal. I don’t. I let players keep 100% of their individual sponsorships unless they specifically want me to manage those too, in which case I’d only take 5% on new deals I bring in myself.”

Leo nodded, tapping his fingers against the glass.

”So, say if a brand like Nike came directly to me, I’d get all of that.”

”Exactly,” Noah replied.

”But if I introduce you to, say, a new athletic tech brand or an agency that wants to feature you in a campaign, then I’d take a small cut for arranging it. Transparency all the way through. You’ll never find a hidden clause in anything I handle.”

Leo studied him for a moment.

”And what if, let’s say, I want to move clubs, and another agent tries to approach me mid-contract?”

Noah gave a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

”Happens more often than you’d think. It’s called ’poaching,’ and FIFA has rules against it, though some people still try and bend them.

My contracts are simple, if you ever feel I’m not doing my job, you can leave. I won’t hold you hostage. Most agents slap players with penalties or long notice periods. I don’t. I believe in mutual trust. If I’m not earning your confidence, I don’t deserve your signature.”

That answer sat well with Leo, but he still pushed further.

”Okay. What about control? Let’s say a club approaches you about a transfer, you’d talk to them first, right?”

”Yes, but not alone,” Noah replied without missing a beat.

”You’d always be looped in. No backroom dealings, no sudden surprises. You’d get every detail, offer structure, salary, bonuses, image clauses, before we move an inch. I’d advise you but not decide for you. You’d have the final word. Always.”

Leo sat back again, the tension easing a little.

”And if you ever want me to move for your own commission’s sake?”

Noah smiled, wide this time, but genuine.

”Then I’d be no better than the ones I complain about. Listen, Leo... agents only win long-term if their players trust them. I’m not here for one transfer. I’m here to help bring you up which in turn benefits me. You are the only player I have under me now, and I intend on keeping it that way for a while.”

”When I started, it was all about how many players I could get under me. But now, I think it’s about the quality. If I can get you to sign for big names, the small cut that I get would still be giant.”

Leo watched him for a long moment, as if testing the tone of his voice against his eyes.

”Alright,” Leo said after a while. ”Let’s say I sign. What’s the first thing you’d do for me?”

”First?” Noah said, resting his forearms on the table.

”I’d audit your current deal at Wigan, go through your terms, your release clause, performance bonuses, sponsorship limitations, everything.”

”Then we’d start projecting forward. It won’t be long before you start getting love calls from clubs. My job is to position you so that when a move does come, it’s on your terms.”

”That means more than just money. It’s playing style, development opportunities, and even cultural fit. So my priority is to ensure you get there without losing yourself in the process.”

The two of them went quiet for a few seconds.

Leo’s questions had stretched the meeting far beyond what most seventeen-year-olds would’ve asked, but Noah didn’t mind.

If anything, he seemed impressed.

”You’ve got your guard up,” Noah said finally, sitting back and finishing his water.

”That’s good. Don’t ever lose that. In football, it’s not just your feet that need to be sharp, it’s your head. Keep it that way, and you’ll go far.”

Leo gave a faint smile, the first hint of ease creeping in.

”I’ll take that as a compliment.”

”It is,” Noah replied simply, gathering his notes.

”Think it over. Don’t rush. I’ll send you the draft agreement when you want. You read it, talk to whoever you trust, and we’ll pick it up from there.”

Leo nodded. ”Yeah... I will.”

As they both stood, Noah offered a handshake, steady and firm.

”Good talk, Leo. You’ve got sense beyond your years. Don’t lose that curiosity. It’s the one thing even talent can’t replace.”

Leo nodded again, his tone quiet but sure.

”Thanks, Noah.”

.....

Leo pushed open the door to the dorm room, the familiar rush of muffled sound greeting him, controller clicks, sharp bursts of laughter, the hum of the new console working overtime.

Ezra and Jake were still glued to the screen, eyes wide, bodies leaning forward as if sheer willpower could move their digital players faster.

He paused for a second, half-amused.

”You two still playing?” he said, dropping his jacket over the back of the chair.

But no answer came.

Jake’s face twitched, his fingers moving frantically on the controller.

Ezra mumbled something incoherent under his breath, eyes locked on the glowing display.

Leo just shook his head, watching them like they were two people lost in another dimension.

”Unbelievable,” he muttered, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

The match ended a few moments later, one final roar from the virtual crowd, followed by Ezra groaning dramatically and Jake tossing his controller in victory.

”Done,” Jake said, exhaling like he’d just run a marathon.

He turned to Leo with a half-grin. ”So... how’d the date go?”

Leo blinked, looking up from his phone.

”It wasn’t a date,” he said flatly. ”I went to meet Noah.”

That got their attention.

Both Ezra and Jake froze for a second, glancing at each other in disbelief before speaking at the same time.

”The Noah Sarin?”

Leo didn’t look up immediately, still scrolling through his phone, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

”Yeah.”

Ezra raised a brow.

”You actually went? I thought you said you weren’t sure about him.”

Leo finally looked up, leaning back slightly. ”Yeah, well... I did.”

Jake leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ”Anddd?”

Leo smirked faintly at their identical expressions before saying simply, ”He’s good. At least from what I’ve seen.”

Ezra nodded slowly, glancing at Jake.

”Well, damn... sounds like things are getting serious.”

”Yeah, damn.”

Ezra looked at Leo like he was thinking about something before looking down and then back up.

”I also don’t have an agent, but if he’s good, and he proves it after, say you get with him, then maybe he could also manage me.”

Leo’s brows creased before nodding at Ezra’s words.

”He said he would only manage me for now, if I am to sign with him but we’ll see though.”

”Well if it’s like this,” Jake said, ”then add me too.”

”But don’t you have an agent?” Leo questioned.

”Who, my father? He is or was trying to be but he says he can’t handle it much more.”

”Oh okay,” Leo said before turning his gaze back to his phone.

Things were suddenly getting serious.