The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring-Chapter 29: The Contract

"Madrid? You want me to play in Madrid?"

Carlos’s voice cracked on the last word. His hands gripped the worn chair arms so tight.

The woman in the expensive suit nodded and pulled documents from her leather briefcase. She looked official but not cold. She was the kind of person who dealt with life-changing news every day.

"My name is Isabella Martinez. I work for Real Madrid," she said in accented English that made every word careful and clear. "We have been watching your games. You have something special."

Dr. Vasquez leaned forward and switched to rapid Spanish that Carlos could barely follow. The words came too fast and sounded too important.

Carlos stared between the two women like this had to be some kind of dream. This couldn’t be real.

Outside the office, feet shuffled. Whispers carried through the door as other residents pressed against the frosted glass and tried to hear whatever was changing Carlos’s life.

"I don’t understand," Carlos said quietly. "Why me?"

Isabella smiled and opened a folder. Inside were photos of Carlos mid-kick, Carlos scoring goals, and Carlos celebrating with teammates who looked tiny next to his talent.

"We see many players," Isabella said. "Most are good. Some are very good. You are different."

Carlos’s throat went dry. "So what happens now? Do I have to decide right now?"

Isabella shook her head with understanding. "No. This is the biggest decision of your life. You take time. Think about it."

She reached into her briefcase and pulled out more papers. "I know other clubs have contacted you. Barcelona, some MLS teams. They are good opportunities too."

Her voice stayed professional, but her eyes showed she knew this wasn’t just about soccer.

"But Real Madrid, we offer something different. History. Tradition. The chance to play where Ronaldo played." She paused. "But not too much time to decide. If you say yes, we start preparation immediately."

**************

Dr. Vasquez spread the contracts across her desk like she was laying out a puzzle. Spanish legal terms covered every page in the official Real Madrid letterhead.

"Visa sponsorship," Dr. Vasquez read aloud while her finger followed each line. "They handle all immigration paperwork. Housing at La Fabrica, that’s their academy facility. Monthly allowance for personal expenses and food."

Isabella leaned forward and used her hands to explain what words couldn’t capture. "Three years minimum commitment. Training Monday through Saturday, sometimes Sunday for matches. You live with boys from Brazil, Argentina, France, everywhere."

Carlos tried to picture it. He imagined sharing rooms with kids who spoke languages he’d never heard. He thought about eating food he couldn’t pronounce.

"Education is mandatory," Isabella continued while pointing to a thick section. "Spanish classes every morning. Academic tutoring in afternoons. You must complete high school equivalency or you cannot stay."

"What about visiting home?" Carlos asked.

"Christmas break, maybe summer if season allows. But the first year, very difficult. You focus only on football."

Dr. Vasquez’s professional mask slipped slightly. She asked rapid questions about medical coverage, academic standards, and what happened if Carlos got injured or homesick.

The hallway noise grew louder. Kids were definitely listening now because voices carried through the thin walls.

Dr. Vasquez stepped outside. Her stern voice cut through the chatter like a knife. "Everyone back to whatever you were doing. Now."

When she returned, her expression was softer. "This is a lot to process, Carlos."

"Can I sleep on it?" Carlos asked. "I need to think about everything."

Isabella nodded and began packing her documents with careful precision. "Of course. Tomorrow morning, you can tell me yes or no. Take tonight. Think about your future."

She stood and shook Dr. Vasquez’s hand, then turned to Carlos.

"Dream tonight about wearing a Real Madrid jersey. See how it feels."

*************

Carlos barely closed his eyes all night. He stared at the water-stained ceiling while sixteen other kids snored around him. Madrid might as well have been Mars to someone who’d never been outside New York.

Every time he almost drifted off, his mind raced with questions. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he got homesick? What if the other kids were better than him?

But then he’d look at his wall. Ronaldo posters covered every inch. They showed him mid-kick, celebrating goals, and holding trophies. The greatest player ever had worn Real Madrid’s white jersey.

Morning light crept through barred windows. Carlos had maybe slept two hours.

Isabella returned at exactly 9 AM, with her briefcase in hand and wearing the same professional expression. Dr. Vasquez looked like she hadn’t slept much either.

"Have you decided?" Dr. Vasquez asked gently.

Carlos took a deep breath. "Yeah. I’m ready."

Isabella leaned forward with interest.

"I want to go to Madrid," Carlos said, and his voice was stronger than he felt. "I know it’s scary, but Ronaldo played there. He’s the reason I started playing soccer."

Isabella’s face lit up. "Ah, Cristiano! Yes, he was magnificent for Real Madrid. Seven years, four Champions League titles."

She reached into her briefcase and pulled out something that made Carlos’s heart stop. A Real Madrid jersey, crisp and white, with "RODRIGUEZ" printed across the back.

"Size medium, yes?" Isabella said with a knowing smile. "We had this made when we decided to recruit you."

Carlos held the jersey with shaking hands. His name was on Real Madrid’s uniform.

"Preparation starts next week," Isabella continued. "Spanish lessons, fitness testing, paperwork. In eight weeks, you will fly to Madrid with me."

Eight weeks. Carlos felt reality hit him like cold water. He had two months to say goodbye to the only home he’d ever known.

**************

The news spread through the group home like wildfire. Suddenly, kids who’d never said two words to Carlos acted like they’d been best friends forever. Everyone had questions about Spain, about professional soccer, and about what it felt like to be chosen.

"What’s the money like?" David asked during lunch.

"Are you gonna live in a mansion?" Kevin added.

"Can you get me Messi’s autograph?" Marcus called from across the table.

Carlos answered as best he could, but his mind kept drifting to the calendar on the wall. Eight weeks. March departure. He was leaving the only real home he’d known since he was twelve.

"You’re actually leaving us?" Javier asked during dinner, and his voice was quieter than the others.

"Yeah. Actually leaving." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Tommy leaned back in his chair. "Real Madrid. That’s like the Lakers and Yankees combined."

"Better than both," Carlos said, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

The conversations stretched late into the night. Younger kids made him promise to send Real Madrid jerseys. Others wanted to know if he’d appear on TV broadcasts they could watch.

"You gonna remember us when you’re famous?" Kevin asked from his bed.

"Of course I will," Carlos said. "You guys are family."

But nobody wanted to talk about the obvious truth. The group home would feel different with Carlos’s bed empty. Dinner would be quiet without his stories about practice and games.

Nobody wanted to admit that one of them was actually getting out and leaving the rest behind to figure out their own escapes.