The Next Big Thing

The press conference room was buzzing with energy, the air thick with questions about Derby's thrilling victory over Swansea. David Jones sat front and center, his legs stretched out comfortably in front of him. His confident posture was matched by his cocky grin, as if he'd just pulled off something spectacular—and to him, he had. He'd just netted two crucial goals in the game, including one that had been nothing short of a masterpiece.

"David," one reporter asked, leaning forward. "In that third goal, after you dribbled past the keeper, you had an open net. Yet, you slowed down and waited for the keeper and a defender to close the gap before firing the ball in. Why did you take your time?"

David's smirk grew wider as the question landed. He'd been expecting it. "Honestly? It wasn't about the keeper or the defender. They were already out of the picture once I took the ball past them. I didn't need to rush. The net was wide open, and I had time to enjoy it."

He paused, letting the words settle in, savoring the moment. "Sometimes, it's not just about scoring. It's about showing everyone that you're in control of the moment. I knew I had it, so I waited. I wanted to see the keeper dive, watch the defenders scramble. I wanted to make sure they knew who was in charge, you know? Then, when the time was right, I put it in."

The room was silent for a beat, then the reporters started whispering to each other, impressed by his brashness and confidence.

"So, it was all about the show?" another reporter ventured, clearly taken by David's boldness.

David leaned back in his chair, his confidence never wavering. "Why not? I knew I had the game in my hands. It wasn't about rushing the shot or being selfish; it was about owning the moment. It's not every day you get to have a bit of fun like that."

A few more questions followed, with some praising his flair and others curious about his mentality, but it was clear that David was reveling in the attention. As the last question was asked, another reporter chimed in: "Some might say you were showing off. What do you think about that?"

David's smile turned into a playful grin. "Let them say what they want. I know what I did, and I'm not afraid to show it. It's not cockiness—it's confidence. You can't be afraid to express yourself, especially when you're on top of your game."

The reporters exchanged impressed glances, clearly fascinated by his unapologetic self-assurance. The last wave of questions trickled down to silence, and David, with a final smirk, stood up and began heading toward the door.

But as he was about to exit, Wayne Rooney—who had been quietly observing the conference—stepped forward and called out to him.

Wayne Rooney stepped in, his eyes meeting David's with a mixture of pride and concern.

"Great game, David. But..." Rooney started, pulling David aside after the press conference.

David looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What's up, gaffer?"

Rooney's tone was more serious now. "You've got the skill. You've got the talent. But don't get too carried away with the showboating. I get it, you want to make a statement, but there's a time and place for that."

David blinked, a little taken aback by Rooney's calm but firm words. "What do you mean? It was just a bit of fun."

Rooney sighed, his voice steady but insistent. "It's fine to enjoy the spotlight, but sometimes it's better to take the shot when you've got it. You didn't need to wait for the keeper to get close. You could've sealed it quicker. Show your class, but don't let the ego take over every time. We're in a team sport."

David nodded, processing the words. He respected Rooney, but he still wasn't sure about being told to tone it down. The press loved it, after all.

"Alright, gaffer. I hear you. But come on, it was a killer goal, right?"

Rooney smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Great goal, but just remember—there's more than one way to impress." He patted David on the shoulder. "Great game out there, kid."

David stood silently for a moment, reflecting on Rooney's words. He appreciated the advice, but the rush of the game still lingered. He was the star, and he wasn't about to forget that anytime soon.

As he was leaving the press area, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Phillip Cocu, the interim manager, was standing there, holding out a card with an unreadable look in his eyes.

David took the card, curiosity piquing his interest. "What's this?" he asked, flipping it over.

Phillip smiled slightly. "Your salary, after tax. £33,466.40. It's all laid out in there. You'll be paid monthly. Your mom told me to create an account for you in case you ever needed something." He paused, his expression softening. "But she also said you should be saving. And you'll get bonuses based on your goals, assists, and appearances after the season ends."

David stood there, staring at the card, almost unable to believe what he was holding. He wasn't used to numbers like that. The reality of it all hadn't fully hit him. He thought he'd earned good money, but this? It felt like an amount he'd only heard about in stories.

"You serious?" David mumbled, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

Phillip gave him a knowing nod. "It's all real. And just don't forget to save, alright? There's more to this than just the numbers."

David nodded absently, still processing what was in his hands. "Save, yeah. Got it."

Phillip clapped him on the back. "Good luck, David. You've earned it."

As Phillip walked away, David stood there, the card still in his hand, his mind racing. He was totally shocked—this was more money than he'd ever thought possible. And as his gaze lingered on the card, his mind wandered. What would he buy first? A car? A new place to live? The possibilities seemed endless, and the excitement was almost overwhelming.

He couldn't help but smile, imagining the life he could create with this new wealth. As he left the room, he felt a mix of triumph and disbelief. He had the world at his feet now, and nothing could take this moment away from him.

But for now, the only thing on his mind was what he could do with the money.