Chapter 134: The Best Gift
For Vicente Engonga, his career had already exceeded expectations. Starting from amateur leagues, he had climbed all the way to the top division, earned a spot in the national team, won the Copa del Rey, and lifted the Spanish Super Cup. Compared to football's biggest stars, these achievements might not seem like much, but for the Equatorial Guinea-born midfielder, his career had been nothing short of a success.
With one year remaining on his contract with Mallorca, he had gradually transitioned into a backup role this season. Yet, there were no complaints—he felt it was about time to step away from the game. As for what he would do after retirement, he hadn't quite figured it out. But there would be plenty of time to think about that later...
At 36 years old, there wasn't much left to consider. If the club still wanted him next season, he'd play another year. If not, it would be time to move on. He was different from Albert Celades, a well-traveled player who had stints at both Real Madrid and Barcelona. With limited playing time this season, Celades was already preparing to leave, possibly extending his career in a lower division. But Engonga? He had no interest in changing clubs again. He liked Mallorca. Life here was good.
As the season neared its end, he thought—if they could win the Copa del Rey before it was all over, that would be the perfect ending.
What he didn't expect was José approaching him with... a brand-new contract.
—
"Hey, Vicente, you've been pretty quiet in training lately," José casually remarked, trying to strike up a conversation.
Engonga shot a curious glance at his manager, who was nearly ten years younger than him. "I've never been much of a talker during training anyway."
"Oh, then I must've misread things." José responded without missing a beat, then handed him a document. "I thought you might be upset that the club hadn't offered you a new contract yet."
"There's nothing to be upset about. I'm at the age where retirement is inevitable..." Engonga shrugged as he reached for the document—only to widen his eyes when he realized it was a contract.
"This is a two-year deal," José explained with a smile. "If you accept, you'll be a player-coach for the next two seasons. Your salary stays the same. You'd be my assistant, mainly responsible for communicating with the players. I think you're the perfect fit for the role. Plus, Motta could learn a lot from you."