Chapter 5: The Decision
Alex Walker leaned back in the stiff taxi seat, eyes unfocused as the lights of Lisbon blurred past the rain-spattered window. The car ride from the Estádio José Alvalade to his hotel was barely twenty minutes, but each second stretched like an hour in his mind. He could still hear the soft-spoken Portuguese accent of Sporting CP’s president, Frederico Varandas, as he’d concluded the interview: "We’ll be in touch very soon."
The meeting had gone well—at least, Alex thought it had. Polite smiles, thoughtful questions, a measured back-and-forth between him, Varandas, and Sporting’s Sporting Director, Hugo Viana. There were the usual queries about philosophy, tactical identity, how he’d manage young talent. He’d been honest—perhaps brutally so.
As the taxi pulled into the hotel’s driveway, Alex realized he hadn’t taken a deep breath in minutes. The driver said something in Portuguese. Alex blinked.
"Right. Obrigado," he muttered, handing the man a few euros and stepping into the hotel lobby. It smelled of polished wood and lemon oil, fake smiles and business meetings. He barely noticed. His thoughts were on Lisbon’s cloudy skies, Sporting CP’s crest, and the weight of a second chance that felt like it was already slipping through his fingers.
Back in his room, Alex stripped off his blazer and collapsed onto the bed, arms spread wide like he was ready to be crucified. The rain had started again, pattering against the glass in a soothing rhythm. It might have lulled him into sleep—if his mind wasn’t spinning like a top.
"Should I even want this job?" he muttered to himself.
Sporting was one of the big three in Portugal. Champions League football almost every year. Renowned academy. Hungry for success. But also ruthless. Impatient. He couldn’t fail again, even if it was technically his first managerial stint, the current him still felt the heartbreak from all his previous failures. And if there was one thing that he learnt from the Everton game, it was that he really didn’t have it in him for another failure.
Alex sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled. He opened his laptop, half-distractedly scrolling through unread emails.
That’s when he saw it.
Subject: F.C. Lecce Managerial Offer
His pulse quickened. He opened the message.