The Greatest of all Time

Zachary and Emily arrived at Rosenborg's head office, located in Brakka, a German-built barracks dating from World War II, at fifteen minutes to eleven that morning.

"I wonder why they couldn't just put their offices at Lerkendal!" Emily commented as they stood before the antique-styled white wooden building with the name 'ROSENBORG BALLKLUB' inscribed above its door.

"Beats me," Zachary replied, his shoulder raising in a casual shrug. "Maybe they just wanted offices that would set them apart from the rest of the clubs. We should head inside. It's about time the meeting started."

"Okay." Emily nodded before leading the way into the building.

Zachary followed her through a brightly lit corridor, past framed photographs of former Rosenborg players.

They trekked past a few cabinets with trophies, a couple of closed doors—probably leading to some of the Rosenborg offices. In less than a minute, they arrived at their destination. They stood before another set of closed doors—carved from rich, mellow wood embellished with artistic patterns.

There Emily paused, straightening her attire briefly. She had donned what seemed to be a new suit to the meeting. There wasn't a single discernible crease visible on it. However, Emily still seemed worried about the attire. Her behavior amused Zachary.

"Be sharp," she intoned, turning around to observe him. "Just be yourself in there. I'll be responsible for the contract negotiations and anything else that comes up. You're free to ask for a private chat with me—in case you don't understand any of the contents of the final contract. But don't openly interrupt my dialogue with their representative. Are we clear?" Her tone had turned solemn.

"Okay." Zachary nodded.

"Then let's head in." She smiled.

Emily turned around and rapped on the double doors. Having knocked, she didn't wait for a reply, or at least Zachary never heard one. She pushed the door open, stepping into the room, flooding with low chatter in the Norwegian language.

Zachary did not dawdle but stepped inside after her. Coach Johansen, Mr. Malvik, and two other Rosenborg executives were—waiting for them in what appeared to be a dining room.

"Good morning, Zachary," Coach Johansen intoned, extending his hand for a greeting. "Hope your day is going well!" He smiled, brushing two of his left-hand fingers through his red beard.

"Good morning, coach," Zachary replied, stepping forward and taking the extended hand in a firm grip. "Thank you for hosting us today," he added, smiling softly.

"No need to thank us," the coach intoned, waving an arm before him in a dismissive gesture. "That's what we should do," he added before pivoting his gaze on Emily, who was standing quietly beside Zachary. "And this here must be Miss Emily Anderson, your agent. Right?"

Emily stepped forward, offering a hand for a greeting. "Yes, Coach. I am Emily Anderson. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Coach Johansen returned her handshake, half-smiling. "Oh, thanks for taking care of Zachary. I hear you have been giving both our financial and legal departments hell while negotiating Zachary's deal. But, I'm glad that we have finally come to an agreement."

Emily nodded but remained silent. She seemed unwilling to comment on the negotiating process.

Coach Johansen was about to continue, but a light cough interrupted his monologue.

"Oh, sorry," the coach intoned, stepping to the side. "I forgot to introduce you to the Chairman and the sporting director of Rosenborg," he added, a rueful smile outlining his face.

"Coach Johansen," intoned one of the executives behind him. "I can very well introduce myself." He laughed heartily, stepping forward to take Zachary's hand. "Young man, I'm Ivar Koteng, the club chairman. Let me take this opportunity to welcome you to Rosenborg."

"Good morning, chairman." Zachary returned the handshake, bowing slightly at the waist. He had heard that the Rosenborg Chairman was one of the most influential men in Trondheim. But what Zachary liked most about him was his love for the football game. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for giving me a chance to play for the Troll Kids."

The chairman was a huge fellow, his chest bulging through his t-shirt above a slight potbelly. His head had long started balding. He carried himself with an air of authority, amplified by his sharp eyes.

He stepped back, observing Zachary for a few moments. "Hahaha," he then burst into laughter, nodding to himself as if he'd discovered something interesting. "I see why Coach Johansen was eager to have you as part of your squad. You're—destined to be a great player.

[Does this chairman think that he can see through someone's talent with just a glance?] Zachary could not help but wonder. He had just given him one look over and determined he would be a great player. That was strange since even the most astute coaches couldn't discern talent with a mere glance. They had to observe a player with the ball first—before they could judge his skills.

"Miss Emily Anderson, we meet again," the chairman grinned, turning towards her. "I'm glad that we have finally come to an understanding."

"Good morning, chairman," Emily nodded, smiling. "Thank you for having us. I hope your morning was a wonderful one!"

The chairman beamed. "Before you arrived, it was still rather slow. But, since you've brought us our star, I can finally relax. Let's take our seats and begin the meeting right away. I've got a few more appointments later today."

The chairman didn't even allow Zachary the chance to greet the other executives. He held on to Zachary's hand and led him to a nearby table. It seemed he was worried Zachary would escape and run away before signing the contract.

"Well, Miss Emily Anderson," Mr. Daniel Malvik, Rosenborg's chief legal advisor, intoned, taking on a formal tone. All the parties present had just finished another round of introductions after taking their seats around the rectangular table. "Have you and your client read and understood all the terms of the contract? Does your client find the terms agreeable?" He asked, leaning forward to lock gazes with Emily.

Emily smiled with confidence. "We have finished reviewing the 'draft' of the contract." She emphasized the word—draft. "Most of the clauses are agreeable to my client," she said, opening the folder before her. She then withdrew a set of papers, probably a copy of the contract draft, before continuing. "However, there are still three clauses that we would propose to revise. These clauses are the Appearance, the Buy-Out, and Release clauses."

Zachary struggled to prevent himself from frowning on hearing Emily's statement. They had already discussed all the terms of the contract, including the three clauses. Zachary was satisfied with the deal. However, he was perplexed at his agent's insistence on haggling at the final stage of the negotiation.

The Appearance clause stipulated that Zachary had to play a total of 75 minutes in a game to receive the match participation bonus. The Buy-Out clause tied Zachary to Rosenborg—unless another club (not in the Norwegian league) could offer 24 million Euros during an active transfer window. Rosenborg would only allow Zachary to negotiate with another club after receiving such an offer. Additionally, there was a release clause in Zachary's contract. If any club ever made an offer of 50 million Euros, they would trigger the clause and free Zachary from Rosenborg, winning his services in the process.