Fuming

No sooner had the words left Ray Hall's mouth than a collective gasp rippled across the pitch. Everton were pressing high on the attack when forward Connor McAleny took an overly heavy touch. Flanagan, sprinting back on defense, stuck out a boot and poked the ball away. Du An happened to be dropping deep and seized the loose ball in stride. Almost the instant he brought it under control, Du An glanced up to scan the opposition's defensive line and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ben!" Before the shout had even faded, the instep of his right boot snapped hard against the underside of the ball. A looping, pinpoint long pass soared over Everton's entire backline, dipping cleanly into the vacated space behind them. Ben Parsonage was already on the exact same wavelength. Almost the second Du An struck the ball, Ben took off. He surged forward at full tilt! Reaching the ball just as it landed, Ben cushioned it down steadily before him. Everton's last center-back, Luke Garbutt, scrambled back in desperation to cover, but Ben deftly cut inside with a flick of his foot, using raw pace to shake his man off completely and go one-on-one with rushing goalkeeper Callum Radcliffe. The instant the keeper went to ground, Ben pushed the ball wide with a light touch to open up the angle, followed immediately by a cool side-foot finish into the empty net. With nothing in its path, the ball rolled into the back of the net! Two-nil! "Brilliant!" Dalglish shot straight out of his seat, clapping vigorously, his voice ringing out loud enough for the entire stand to hear. He turned to Heighway and Ray Hall beside him, beaming with boundless spirits. "If I'd had a teammate like Du An feeding me passes back when I was young, I'd have scored a thousand goals in my career!" The smile on Ray Hall's face froze for a fraction of a second. By this point, it was abundantly clear to him: Dalglish had made the trip to Finch Farm today entirely for this Asian teenager. Yet no matter how he wracked his brain, he couldn't fathom why Kenny Dalglish would think so highly of a slight, young Asian lad. What rankled even more was how Dalglish kept harping on about how this was 'talent Everton handed over to Liverpool.' Just what sort of story was there behind this that Hall knew nothing about? Anger simmered in his chest, but he had no way of digging deeper. He had no choice but to turn to Heighway, offering a polite compliment. "Steve, looks like you lot at Kirkby have struck gold again. The lad's vision and long passing make him look like a young Xabi Alonso." Heighway replied at a leisurely pace, "He's decent enough. Though this U16 batch of yours looks rather ordinary. Your midfield can't hold possession, and your backline's leaking runners left and right." "Haha, well, true talent doesn't just grow on trees." Ray Hall chuckled to brush past the remark, but his gaze drifted right back to the red number 27 on the pitch, his brow furrowing involuntarily. Down on the pitch, Du An and his teammates finished their celebration and jogged back into their own half. Ben's eyes blazed with hunger—a hat-trick was right within his grasp! Before long, the referee blew the whistle for halftime. The players trickled off the pitch in twos and threes to hydrate, catch their breath, and listen to the coach lay out the second-half tactics. Up in the stands, a man in a dark jacket hurried up the steps. It was none other than David Coleman. Shortly after Du An had set up Ben's goal, Dalglish had texted David to ask if he had time to come by the pitch for a look. "Kenny." Approaching them, David greeted Dalglish first before turning to Ray Hall and Heighway. "Director Hall, Director Heighway." His father, old Coleman, had been a longtime friend of Dalglish's and a die-hard Red, though he had sadly passed away from illness years ago. His mother, on the other hand, was an Evertonian through and through. Having watched matches with his mother from a young age, David had ended up an Everton man himself. All things considered, he and Dalglish were quite well acquainted. "How's the scouting going lately?" Ray Hall asked casually. "Haven't seen you report any new prospects in a while." David gave a rueful smile. "Still looking. Spent two weeks out in Norway last month watching a few young lads. The fundamentals were solid, but the parents weren't keen on sending their kids to England so young, so that was that." "Now, Ray, don't you go underestimating him," Dalglish chimed in with a grin, resting a hand on David's shoulder. "A few months back, David scouted an absolute gem of a talent. A shame you lot at Everton didn't fancy him—handed him right to Liverpool on a silver platter." Ray Hall's heart sank, and the pieces instantly fell into place. He looked down toward the sideline at the boy listening attentively to Aslett, his brow knitting even tighter. "You mean... Du An?" Dalglish said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow. The smirk at the corner of his mouth said it all. "Du An?" David froze. Following Ray's gaze, he recognized the slender figure on the sideline in an instant. His eyes widened in shock, and the words slipped out before he could stop them: "What the hell? He's playing for the U16s already?" He turned to Dalglish, utter disbelief written across his face. "If I remember right... he isn't even fourteen yet, is he?" "Almost. He turns fourteen this Christmas," Heighway piped up casually from the side. "Come the new year, we're planning to skip him up to the U18s for a trial run. Really ought to thank you, David—you're the one who found him first." Ray Hall's face darkened completely. Dense as he might be, he could hear that something was very wrong. This kid had clearly crossed paths with Everton, yet he himself had been kept entirely in the dark. He turned to David, barely keeping the anger out of his voice. "David, what's this about?" David inwardly cursed his luck. With no way out, he had to tell the whole story from start to finish. "A few months back, I saw Du An playing at a community pitch. I thought he was remarkably gifted, so I brought him to Finch Farm for a trial. The talent was there, but because he'd never had formal football training, his technique didn't stand out. In the end, Lynn didn't approve him—said Du An's family would have to pay youth training fees if he wanted to stay. So... he got rejected." "Lynn." Ray Hall repeated the name under his breath. Taking a deep breath to push down the fury boiling inside him, he forced a tight smile and patted David on the arm. "You've got a sharp eye. Keep up the good work uncovering new prospects." After a brief pause, he added, "Once the match is over, have Lynn come to my office." "Since you're the one who found him, stick around and watch the second half with us." Ray Hall's tone was completely flat, devoid of emotion. David had already been curious about just how far Du An had come. Ever since Du An went to Kirkby for closed-door training, the two of them hadn't crossed paths again. He had never stopped thinking about the kid he had taken an immediate shine to but failed to keep. Though it was a shame the boy wasn't playing for Everton, David still wanted to see his own judgment validated. David agreed and took a seat right beside Dalglish. Ray Hall glanced their way. The resentment inside him flared up a notch, yet he held his tongue. Letting a prodigy slip through their fingers was infuriating enough; there was no point getting worked up over trivial matters now. He would bottle up all this rage for later. He intended to have a very serious chat with Lynn about what on earth he had been thinking!