The morning after the celebration, Malik arrived at training expecting peace.
Instead, Elena was waiting outside his office.
She handed him a newspaper.
Malik looked at the headline.
"THE NEXT GREAT MANAGER?"
He sighed.
"Already?"
Elena crossed her arms.
"That's not the problem."
She handed him another.
Then another.
Different newspapers.
Different headlines.
MALIK AMARI: SPAIN'S YOUNGEST TACTICAL PHENOMENON
FROM RELEGATION FIGHT TO FOOTBALL'S NEXT BIG NAME
WHO WILL COME FOR AMARI?
Malik stared at them.
"I don't want this."
Elena smiled.
"You don't get to choose anymore."
The attention changed everything.
Agents began calling players.
Scouts began attending training.
Journalists waited outside the gates.
And clubs began asking questions about Malik.
But inside the dressing room, nothing changed.
At least, that was what Malik wanted.
He walked into training.
"Enough with the newspapers."
The players laughed.
Adrian held one up.
"Coach, they're calling you a genius."
"Put it away."
Mateo grinned.
"Why?"
"Because genius doesn't defend corners."
The room erupted.
Training began.
But halfway through the session, Malik noticed something.
The intensity wasn't the same.
Players were celebrating small things.
Taking extra touches.
Trying spectacular passes.
Trying to impress.
Malik blew the whistle.
Everyone stopped.
"You think we've made it?"
Silence.
"We survived."
He pointed toward the pitch.
"That doesn't mean we've arrived."
He looked at Mateo.
"You scored two important goals."
Mateo nodded.
"You're still seventeen."
Then Adrian.
"You're becoming famous."
Adrian's smile disappeared.
"You're still learning how to defend."
Then Raúl.
"You're a legend here."
Raúl raised an eyebrow.
"But you're still thirty-four."
The players laughed.
Malik smiled.
"Good."
He stepped back.
"Because tomorrow, we work."
Three Weeks Later
Miraflores finished the season strongly.
They ended the campaign in 11th place.
From relegation candidates to a comfortable mid-table finish.
The supporters called it a miracle.
The players called it the best season of their lives.
The board called it a success.
But Malik knew the truth.
They had survived.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
At the final team meeting, Mateo approached him.
"Coach?"
"Yes?"
"Are you staying?"
Malik looked at him.
"I have a contract."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Malik smiled.
"You're getting too clever."
Mateo laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
"I don't want you to leave."
Malik looked around the dressing room.
At Adrian.
At Raúl.
At the players who had once doubted him.
"I don't plan to."
Mateo smiled.
"Good."
He walked away.
Malik watched him go.
He had no idea how quickly football could change.