“I can’t believe it!” Jamie Johnson blurted out as he burst into the hastily arranged meeting at Hawkstone United’s stadium. “Is it true? Do they really want me?!”

Tony Walsh, the chairman of the club, Harry Armstrong, the Hawkstone manager, and Archie Fairclough, the assistant manager, were already there waiting for Jamie. As one, they nodded back at him.

This time it was for real. This time it was the club that Jamie wanted. Desperately.

The whole summer had been a game of transfer cat and mouse. Real Madrid, Bayern Munich and Paris St Germain had all tried to sign Jamie following his stunning performances for Scotland at the World Cup. He was one of the most sought-after players in world football.

And yet, no matter how much money they had offered to pay, Jamie had turned down each one of them. His response had always been the same: there was only one football club in the world for which he would leave Hawkstone United. But that club had never made a bid.

Until now.

Jamie’s brain had been boiling with ideas since Archie had called him with the news forty-five minutes before.

This was big. This was huge.

“Barcelona want to sign me?!” Jamie panted. His heart was beating so fast he felt as though he’d just played four whole football matches in a row.

This was the team of teams. The club of clubs. The side who played the best football that Jamie had ever seen. And now they wanted him to join them.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it, Jamie?” Smiled Tony Walsh. “And a crucial decision for this club too. I think we’d prefer it if we could discuss this matter further … in private, if that’s OK?”

For a second, Jamie was confused, but then he followed the line of Tony Walsh’s eyes and understood he was referring to Jack, who, as ever, was right beside Jamie.

“Oh,” said Jamie, catching Jack Marshall’s eye with the smile they always shared. “It’s OK. Jack’s cool. She may be a journalist, but you can trust her. She’s my best friend. I’d tell her all this anyway, so she may as well be here now.”

Tony Walsh looked at his managerial team, Harry Armstrong and Archie Fairclough, paused for a second and then, with a reluctant cough, carried on talking.

“I hope you are right, Jamie, because some of the information I am about to give you is completely confidential.”

“It is true,” revealed Tony Walsh as Jack and Jamie sat down. “The Barcelona delegation is flying into London as we speak. The manager, Godal, has requested a personal meeting with you tonight. They mean business, Jamie.”

“You absolute beauty!” Jamie shouted, brimming with pride at the notion, his mind immediately leaping forward to imagine pulling on the famous blue and maroon top and scoring a master blaster of a shot in front of a hundred thousand adoring Barcelona fans.

It was almost every player’s vision of football heaven.

“You do realize, Barcelona is the only club I would leave Hawkstone for,” Jamie said, suddenly feeling a drop of sadness in his sea of ecstasy. “My granddad first brought me here when I was three. No matter what happens, Hawkstone will always be my club.”

“We know,” Walsh nodded. “In fact, you signing for Barcelona is actually the best gift you can give to Hawkstone at the moment. We need the money, Jamie. Badly.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jamie. “What’s the problem?”

Tony Walsh pursed his lips and looked at Harry Armstrong and Archie Fairclough. Archie, in particular, carried a troubled expression on his face.

“Look, there’s no other way to say this: we’re broke,” stated Walsh.

“Wow,” said Jamie, suddenly understanding why the Hawkstone bosses looked so serious. “But … how? I mean, we just won the league! We’re doing brilliantly. Now we’re going to play in the Champions League for the first time. That means we get loads of money, doesn’t it?”

“We’ve overstretched ourselves financially, Jamie. We’ve been trying so hard – too hard – to get to the top and, even though we’re starting to achieve some of our goals, the banks want their money back. Now.”

“Right,” said Jamie. “How much do we owe?”

“We need to pay fifty million pounds back to the bank before the end of August,” revealed Walsh, his face growing greyer by the second.

“But that’s in, like, a week!” said Jamie, panic in his voice. “What happens if we don’t?”

“We go bust. They close us down. The end of Hawkstone United.”

“Nine days to find fifty million?!”

“That’s correct, Jamie. As a club, we’ve got two major playing assets. You and Bertorelli. And we’ve got nine days before the transfer deadline closes. We’ve accepted a bid for Bertorelli from Juventus this morning and now Barcelona have come in with this offer for you…”

“So, me going to Barcelona is actually a good thing for Hawkstone?” said Jamie, the images of him pulling on a Barcelona shirt once again starting to fill his mind.

Tony Walsh nodded. “The last thing any of us want is for you to leave this club. But, at this moment, that is just about the only way we have of saving it.” He stroked his chin with his finger and his thumb, casting his gaze towards Jamie’s knee. “The only question is, will you be able to pass a medical?”