New Novel
Chapter 26: Volume 1, - 26: Sporting’s Forgotten Winger

Chapter 26: Volume 1, Chapter 26: Sporting’s Forgotten Winger

At 21:15 on Sunday evening, the scent of hairspray, warm shampoo and almond oil lingered inside Ana Ferreira’s salon in Olivais.

The metal shutters had been lowered for the night, but the small staff room behind the salon remained crowded with empty soft-drink cans, half-eaten pastries and several teenagers gathered around Joca’s ageing gaming laptop. Its cooling fan whirred loudly beneath the pressure of a video-editing timeline filled with clips from Rayan’s recent matches.

Joca sat hunched over the keyboard, dragging the playback bar towards footage from three months earlier. On the screen, a younger and far less controlled Rayan attempted an ambitious stepover during a training game at Alcochete. His standing foot slipped, the ball escaped towards the touchline and the defender collected possession without needing to make a challenge.

"Stop there," Rayan said, leaning over Joca’s shoulder. "Remove that clip."

Joca continued adjusting the timing. "No."

"Joca, I fell over without anyone touching me."

"Exactly."

"The point of a football video is to show people that I’m good at football."

"The point of a video is to make people watch until the end." Joca paused the footage on Rayan’s frustrated expression. "If I upload twenty seconds of clean passes with dramatic music, you look like every other academy player whose cousin owns a phone. But if I show what you looked like before the suspension and then cut to the Benfica cross and the Belenenses assist, people can actually see the change."

Mateus sat on a plastic chair beside the towel warmers with his headphones hanging around his neck. A slow instrumental played from his phone, beginning with a soft piano melody before a heavier bassline entered.

"Use this track," he said. "Keep the opening quiet during the bad footage. The beat drops when he plays the assist."

Rayan looked towards Inês, who was leaning against the doorway with a mug of tea held between both hands. "Please tell them this is a terrible idea."

Inês considered the paused image. "It depends on the title. If Joca writes something like Portugal’s Next Ballon d’Or Winner, everyone at school will turn the comments into a crime scene."

"I wasn’t going to use that," Joca said.

"You used The Next Cristiano? on a clip of him juggling seven times."

"It received four hundred views."

"Half of them were people laughing."

Joca ignored her and opened the project-title field. "This one is dramatic without being a lie."

He typed several words and turned the laptop towards the room.

SPORTING’S FORGOTTEN WINGER IS FINALLY IMPROVING

Rayan read it twice. The phrase created an uncomfortable feeling beneath his ribs.

"Forgotten winger?"

"It works," Joca said. "You disappeared from the matchday squad, got suspended and spent week on the bench. Now you’re earning minutes and creating goals. It tells the whole story."

"I wasn’t forgotten. I was just bad."

"That title is less marketable."

Mateus replayed the music and nodded approvingly when the bassline entered beneath the Belenenses assist. Inês took another drink of tea, apparently satisfied that the title was not completely humiliating.

Rayan watched the sequence from beginning to end. The failed dribble appeared first, followed by his early-season turnovers and a clip of him jogging back too late after losing possession. Then the edit shifted towards his recent improvement: the defensive recovery against Sacavenense, the low left-footed cross against Benfica and the early pass that produced his first official assist.

The contrast was uncomfortable actually seeing it.

"Keep the bad clip short," Rayan said at last.

Joca grinned. "That is creative approval."

"It is not approval."

"Too late. Mateus, export the final audio."

By 11:00 on Monday morning, the video had escaped Joca’s page and begun circulating through school group chats and local youth-football accounts.

Rayan sat at a cafeteria table with his history notes open in front of him. Tuesday’s academic assessment remained his final unresolved Foundation objective, but his phone had vibrated so often during the morning that he had eventually switched it to silent.

Joca had uploaded the video before the first bell. During the opening hours, it had travelled beyond their immediate school circle and reached several small Sporting supporter pages.

Idris sat opposite him, reading from his phone. "An account called Leões da Formação reposted it. They have nearly five thousand followers."

"What did they say?"

Idris turned the screen towards him.

Disciplined improvement from the young Sporting winger. Still raw, but his recent decisions show genuine work.

Rayan opened the comments beneath Joca’s original post.

You can see the hours he has put in.

Not the most naturally gifted player in that squad, but the effort is obvious.

Good discipline. Hope he keeps working.

That pass against Belenenses was cleaner than I expected.

The comments were positive. Rayan knew that. Yet his attention repeatedly returned to the same phrase.

"Not the most naturally gifted," he muttered.

Idris lowered his phone. "What?"

"They make me sound like someone who survives because he runs a lot. Nobody is talking about the weight of the assist or the left-footed cross against Benfica. They keep calling me disciplined."

"That is because discipline is the most visible change."

Rayan’s jaw tightened. "You think I don’t have talent?"

"I think you want strangers to call you a prodigy after three useful substitute appearances." Idris closed his notebook. "Three weeks ago, your first touch was inconsistent, you ignored open teammates and you lost possession trying to impress people. The work stabilised your football. Being praised for that is not an insult."

Rayan looked towards the cafeteria window.

He knew Idris was right, but the comments still irritated him. He had spent years imagining that people would eventually recognise something special inside him. Now that strangers were finally noticing his football, they were praising the part he had once considered beneath him.

Effort. Discipline. Simplicity.

No one was calling him brilliant.

The system appeared briefly in the corner of his vision.

[PUBLIC FEEDBACK RESPONSE DETECTED]

[Current emotional reaction: Dissatisfaction with work-rate classification.]

[Risk: External praise may reactivate reputation-driven behaviour.]

[Notice: Public labels do not alter verified football ability.]

Rayan dismissed the message and reopened his history notes.

Tuesday’s result mattered more than the comments.

At least, it was supposed to.

Afternoon training at Alcochete began at 15:30 beneath clear, cold skies.

Rayan walked towards the equipment shed to collect a bag of cones when Duarte Faria moved beside him. Duarte’s expression already carried the mocking satisfaction of someone who had spent the morning waiting for the opportunity.

"Look who finally arrived," he called loudly. "Sporting’s forgotten winger."

Several nearby players glanced towards them.

Duarte stepped in front of the equipment-room door. "Should we ask for an autograph now, or do we wait until the video reaches twenty thousand views?"

Rayan stopped.

"Move, Faria."

Duarte remained in place. "What happened to Future Star? Even your own friend knows you were forgotten. One assist, and suddenly you need a documentary."

A familiar heat rushed into Rayan’s ears. His fingers tightened around the empty mesh bag, and the urge to push Duarte away rose sharply through his chest.

The system warning appeared.

[PROVOCATION DETECTED]

[Category: Status ridicule and social-media attention.]

[Disciplinary Objective: Active.]

[Recommended Response: End interaction and complete assigned task.]

Rayan inhaled slowly through his nose.

"Move out of the way," he repeated. "Coach asked for the cones."

Duarte’s smile weakened. He had expected an argument, perhaps even enough physical contact to turn the exchange into another disciplinary problem.

"You think you’re better than everyone now?"

"No." Rayan held his gaze. "I think you’re standing in front of a door."

A brief laugh escaped one of the reserve players before he immediately looked away.

Duarte’s face hardened. He spat onto the grass beside the path and stepped aside. "Enjoy the attention while it lasts."

Rayan entered the shed, lifted the cone bag and walked towards Pitch 2 without looking back.

Coach Tavares stood near the touchline with his clipboard tucked beneath one arm. He had watched enough of the interaction to understand what had happened.

"El Mansouri."

Rayan stopped. "Yes, Coach?"

"I saw the video."

Rayan tightened his hold on the cones. "It was my friend’s idea."

"I don’t care whose idea it was." Tavares’s expression remained stern. "The edit is entertaining. The music is dramatic. None of that affects your position in this squad."

"Understood."

"Social-media attention makes young players feel important before their football earns it. The moment that video changes how you train, speak to teammates or respond to criticism, it becomes a problem."

"My focus is on the session."

Tavares studied him for several seconds before nodding. "Good. Put the cones in the left channel and join the activation."

Training began with a positional eight-against-eight match. Rayan was placed on the orange team rather than the primary green unit.

He played simply. When pressure approached, he released possession. When the ball moved away, he maintained the team’s width rather than chasing touches. Duarte attempted to provoke him twice through heavy challenges, but Rayan rose without responding and resumed his position.

Midway through the exercise, the orange team recovered possession near its own penalty area. Tomás received the first pass and turned into space. Rayan began his run behind the opposing fullback before Tomás lifted his head.

The pass travelled into the channel.

Rayan reached it, checked towards the penalty area and sent a low cross towards the striker. The defender intercepted before the delivery reached its target, but the action forced the green team backwards and earned the orange side a corner.

"Correct run," Tavares called. "Earlier delivery next time."

By 20:00, the Olivais apartment had settled into its normal evening quiet. Sofia stood in the kitchen preparing soup while Rayan worked through his final history review sheet at the dining table.

Leonor sat on the sofa with Rayan’s phone held between both hands.

"I thought you said Joca’s football videos were embarrassing," Sofia called from the kitchen.

"They are," Leonor replied without looking up. "I’m checking whether his analytics page is broken."

She refreshed the screen and sat upright.

"Rayan."

He kept writing. "What?"

"It passed twelve thousand views."

His pencil stopped.

"Twelve thousand?"

"Twelve thousand four hundred and eighteen. And almost eight hundred likes."

Rayan took the phone.

The number looked unreal. Twelve thousand people would fill several academy stands. They would form a crowd larger than anything Rayan had ever played in front of. Somewhere across Lisbon, strangers who had never met him had watched his mistakes, his improvement and the pass that earned his first assist.

His follower count had passed one thousand.

For a few seconds, pride rose inside him. Not the desperate pride that demanded he prove himself immediately, but the quieter satisfaction of knowing the work was becoming visible.

Then he remembered Idris’s warning.

A video did not make him a prospect. It made him a subject of temporary interest.

Sofia entered carrying two bowls of soup. "Twelve thousand people watched it?"

Leonor nodded. "Most of them are saying he works hard."

"Good."

Rayan looked at his mother. "Why does everyone say that as though it’s the only thing I can do?"

Sofia placed a bowl in front of him. "Because hard work is what they can see."

"They can see the pass."

"They can also see the difference between the boy falling over at the start of the video and the one who made the pass." She sat opposite him. "Do you want them to lie and say you were always excellent?"

Rayan lowered his eyes towards the review sheet.

"No."

"Then let them notice the truth."

Leonor handed the phone back. "Somebody also said your haircut looks uneven."

Rayan looked at her sharply.

She grinned and returned to the sofa.

Later that evening, an analyst remained inside the academy building at Alcochete long after most of the players and coaching staff had departed.

Miguel Sampaio worked within Sporting’s youth video-analysis department, reviewing match footage and producing short reports for the academy’s development meetings. He had already watched Rayan’s official clips from Sacavenense, Benfica and Belenenses, but the social-media video brought the progression together in a way the separated match files had not.

On one monitor, Joca’s edit was paused at the moment Rayan delivered the assist against Belenenses. On the second, the analyst had opened the original academy footage from the same sequence.

Sampaio ignored the music, captions and reaction shots. He moved the clip backwards and watched Rayan before the ball arrived.

The pass itself was good.

The timing before it was more interesting.

Sampaio opened Rayan’s recent development file. The player remained one of the lowest-rated attackers in the group, with limited minutes and significant early-season concerns. Yet the last several sessions showed fewer unnecessary turnovers, improved defensive tracking and a growing willingness to release possession before pressure arrived.

He typed a short note to the academy performance coordinator.

Subject: Rayan El Mansouri — Additional Observation

Recent match footage shows a meaningful improvement in his decisions before receiving, particularly during transition moments. The Belenenses assist is less important than the early movement that created it.

His overall technical level remains below the strongest wide players in the age group, and the sample remains limited. However, his recent changes appear repeatable rather than accidental.

Recommend maintaining dedicated observation through Friday’s tactical block before the development review is finalised.

Sampaio reread the message, attached the relevant academy clips and sent it.

Rayan did not know the email existed.

He sat kilometres away inside a small Olivais apartment, revising history while his name moved quietly through another internal conversation at Sporting.

At 21:40, Rayan closed his notes and prepared for bed.

The system appeared one final time.

[THIRTY-DAY FOUNDATION CHALLENGE]

[Day 26 of 30 Complete.]

[Four Days Remaining.]

[Disciplinary Objective: Compliant.]

[Academic Objective: Final assessment scheduled for Tuesday, Day 27.]

[Public Attention Level: Minor Local Traction.]

[Follower Count: 1,020.]

[Notice: Increased public attention provides no attribute benefit.]

Rayan looked at the final line and almost laughed.

The system had reduced twelve thousand views to a fact with no football value.

Perhaps that was exactly what he needed.

He placed the phone beside his bed and switched off the lamp. Tomorrow’s assessment would not care how many people had watched the assist. Sporting’s coaches would not renew his place because Joca had chosen a strong title.

The video had told everyone that Sporting’s forgotten winger was improving.

Rayan still had four days to prove the improvement would last.