That one goal was enough. The rest of the match wasn't played to completion. Less than half an hour after André's goal, Hierro ended the game. For Hierro, André had completely won him and Sánchez over.
However, even in this trial-like friendly match, André was not without flaws. In fact, in the eyes of Hierro and Sánchez, he had plenty of shortcomings. For example, he held onto the ball too long, and his footwork was too flashy. Many of his moves seemed completely superfluous to the experienced coaches. Another major flaw was that he completely failed to understand his greatest advantage. In the nearly forty-minute match, the 1.9-meter giant didn't manage a single effective header. Whenever a teammate lofted the ball high, André was lost. When a teammate delivered a high-quality cross, André would surprisingly choose to control it with his thigh before making his next move.
But these flaws only made Hierro and Sánchez more excited, because they indicated greater potential for development. Furthermore, in their view, for a sixteen-year-old player, these shortcomings weren't important. With age, accumulated match experience, and proper training, these flaws would slowly be corrected. What excited them was the unparalleled physical talent and the absolute ball sense that André displayed at his current age.
On André's side, he was equally excited. The confusion from his transmigration vanished with these less than forty minutes of play. He'd also found his direction. In his previous life, limited by his physical condition and circumstances, he could only end up depressed on the path of football. Now, fate had given him a different world. Although it was unlikely he would represent England in this life, at least his football dream could continue. Moreover, what excited him was that if he'd adapted to this body by seventy percent on his own while at Castilla, now—through this short match of less than forty minutes—he'd adapted to it by over ninety percent.
"André, how do you feel?"
"Mr. Hierro, I feel fantastic. Thank you so much."
"That's good. André, let's go to my office to discuss what's next for you. I think the most urgent thing you need to resolve is your language issue. It's extremely important for your professional career."
"I understand. Thank you. I'll work hard to learn Spanish."
André followed Hierro to his office, while Sánchez continued to coach the team. However, none of the Oviedo players were in the mood to train. Especially Hernández and Cortuno, the two starting center-backs for Oviedo who had been utterly dominated by André. They truly couldn't comprehend how such a massive man could shake off defenders like a nimble winger. They even began to question their entire careers.
"Hey, Saúl, is this the Red Card Expert you mentioned? Where the hell did you hear that rumor?"
"I, uh, I don't know either..." If it weren't for seeing it with his own eyes, Saúl would've thought he was still dreaming. Had he encountered a fake André before? Or was this guy a twin?
"Look at my stomach. This guy's too bloody sneaky. He deliberately uses his elbow tip to strike the same spot every time. I feel like my intestines are going to rupture if we keep playing," Hernández whined, lifting his jersey to show everyone the bruise on his lower abdomen.
"Right, he's too dirty. And the muscle on his body is rock solid. It hurts no matter where you bump into him," Cortuno also complained, feeling wronged.
"Alright, alright, time to train. This guy's about to be our teammate. Think about it—isn't that actually a good thing?"
The team captain, Colares, clapped his hands and spoke.
The captain's words made all the Oviedo players' eyes light up. That's right! Having such a monster as a teammate would definitely be infinitely better than facing him as an opponent. At worst, they just wouldn't mark him in training matches. Thinking of this, Hernández felt his stomach didn't hurt quite as much anymore.
"Sit down, André."
After arriving at Hierro's office, Hierro gestured toward a chair in front of the desk.
"André, your performance has completely won over both me and Miguel. This is the club's contract. You can look at it first. You can also ask Cristiano to review it for you. However, Oviedo is a small club, and we cannot offer a huge sum. But I can guarantee you one thing: I will guide you with everything I have."
"Thank you, Mr. Hierro. May I ask Cristiano to come over? I can't understand this."
Looking at the Spanish contract before him, André could only recognize a very small portion. He couldn't understand most of it. He told Hierro awkwardly.
"Of course, no problem. Actually, I'd suggest you find yourself an agent."
In the end, Cristiano couldn't come because he was leaving Madrid soon and had many matters to handle. Thus, the person who ultimately came to Oviedo was Cristiano's agent, Jorge Mendes.
"Hi, André."
"Hello, Mr. Jorge. Thank you for coming."
"Jorge, why are you here? Where's Cristiano?"
"This is my specialty, Fernando. Are you sure this is the contract you're offering?"
After Mendes finished reading it, Hierro walked in. Mendes looked at the contract with a strange expression and asked.
"Of course. We're very sincere."
Mendes was naturally very familiar with Cristiano's cousin, but from the contract offered by Real Oviedo, he could genuinely feel the sincerity expressed by the club. He just couldn't figure out why. Hierro was a legendary player from Real Madrid. Although Mendes was unsure of his coaching ability, he believed Hierro's judgment in assessing talent couldn't be wrong. He genuinely couldn't understand what aspect of André had impressed Hierro so much.
In the eyes of a professional like Mendes, this contract was indeed very generous for a young player: five years at €300,000 annually. Although Mendes hadn't investigated the exact figures, he believed this should be a very high annual salary for a small club like Real Oviedo.
Mendes then carefully explained every clause in the contract to André in Portuguese. He felt the rest was fine, but when he got to the five-year term, his brow furrowed.
"André, consider this carefully, but I think this contract is quite good overall."
"Thank you, Mr. Jorge. Mr. Hierro, I think everything else is fine, but I don't want five years. I want three years."
Hearing André's words, Hierro didn't feel anything strange. To be honest, in Hierro's eyes, a talent like André would undergo massive development almost every month. Perhaps even before three years passed, André might be targeted by many top clubs, so he could understand why André would request three years instead.
"Three years it is, then," Hierro said with a knowing smile. "I think that's fair for both sides."
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