David's heart still raced as he walked down the tunnel, adrenaline pumping from the roar of the crowd. His shirt stuck to him, his legs ached, and his lungs burned—but none of that mattered. He'd just scored the match-winner in his debut, and the thrill of it was coursing through his veins.
"That was sothing, kid," Jason Knight called, jogging up behind him with a grin.
David glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "What, the goal? Standard, mate."
Jason laughed, clapping him on the back. "Yeah, alright. Just try not to break your arm patting yourself on the back."
"Too late," Curtis Davies chid in, catching up to them. "That finish, though. Class. Keep it up, and you'll be doing press conferences every week."
"Is that right?" David said, his smirk widening.
"Yeah, don't get used to it," Jason teased. "One goal doesn't make you ssi."
David shrugged, pretending to brush imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Don't need to be ssi. I'm the first David Jones."
The banter flowed easily, the camaraderie lifting everyone's spirits as they walked down the tunnel. But then Wayne Rooney's voice cut through the chatter, and the players straightened instinctively.
"David," Wayne said, his tone warm but asured. He was smiling, a rare and genuine expression. "Knew you had it in you, lad."
"Cheers, boss," David replied, his tone light but confident. "Told you I wouldn't let you down."
Wayne nodded, clearly pleased. "Now, I've got to head to the press conference. I'm taking Curtis with ... but what do you say, David? Fancy joining us?"
David blinked. "? Really?"
"After that goal?" Wayne chuckled. "You're the one they'll be asking about the most."
David grinned. "Well, if they want , who am I to disappoint?"
Jason rolled his eyes. "Here we go. Fa's gone straight to his head already."
"Don't be jealous," David shot back, his grin turning into a laugh.
Wayne shook his head, amused. "Alright, keep it together. Let's get going."
The Walk to the Press Room
The walk through the stadium halls was alive with post-match energy. Staff and players milled about, dissecting the ga, and David could feel the attention on him. It wasn't overwhelming—it was energizing.
"First press conference?" Curtis asked, glancing down at him.
"Yeah," David replied casually. "Not my first ti in the spotlight, though."
Curtis raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, really?"
David shrugged. "School tournants, youth leagues—you know how it is. Big goals, big monts, big interviews. Sa old, sa old."
Curtis chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, this isn't your school paper, kid. Just don't say anything daft."
"Relax," David said, flashing a confident grin. "I've got this. Just have to be honest don't i" David said making Curtis even more nervous at that
When they stepped into the press room, David's bravado flickered slightly. The bright lights, the caras, the buzz of murmured voices—it was all bigger than he'd imagined. But instead of shrinking, he straightened his shoulders, determined not to let anyone see a crack in his confidence.
Wayne gestured to the seats at the table. "You sit here, next to . Curtis, on my right. Let's get through this quickly."
The Press Conference
The questions started with Wayne, as expected. He fielded them with the calm, asured tone of soone who'd spent decades under the spotlight.
When the focus shifted, the room buzzed with energy. All eyes were on David.
"David," one reporter began, leaning forward. "First of all, congratulations on your debut and that incredible match-winning goal. How does it feel to make such an impact in your very first ga?"
David leaned into the microphone, his tone self-assured. "It feels... normal, honestly. I've been working for this mont for years. Scoring goals, making an impact—that's what I do. Tonight was just another step."
Curtis shot him a sideways glance, his lips twitching in amusent.
Another reporter jumped in. "You're only 15, and yet you started in such a high-pressure ga. Were you nervous at all?"
David didn't hesitate. "Nope."
The room laughed lightly, assuming he was joking, but his expression didn't waver.
"Seriously," he continued, "I don't get nervous. If you're good enough, you're good enough. Age doesn't matter. The gaffer saw that, and I just did what I've always done."
Wayne smirked, letting the comnt slide without interruption.
The questions kept coming, touching on his goal, his ambitions, and his relationship with Wayne.
"David," another reporter began, "you're working under one of the greatest players in Premier League history. What's that been like for you?"
David shot Wayne a quick glance, then grinned. "It's been alright."
The room chuckled.
"Seriously, though," he added, "it's a privilege. He's a legend, and I'm learning from the best. "
Wayne raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased by David's answer.
"One last question," a reporter called. "That celebration after your goal—it was... intense. Was that planned, or just the mont taking over?"
David chuckled. "You can't plan monts like that. It's instinct, you know? Scoring the winner, hearing the crowd—it's a feeling you can't describe. I just let it out."
The room broke into applause as the press officer wrapped things up.
Back in the Dressing Room
When David returned to the dressing room, the teasing began almost imdiately.
"Look who's back from his big TV debut!" Jason Knight called.
"How was it, Mr. Starboy?" another teammate added.
David shrugged, dropping into his seat with a grin. "Piece of cake."
Jason rolled his eyes. "I swear, your head's getting bigger by the minute."
"Don't hate because I'm brilliant," David shot back, untying his boots.
Wayne entered the room, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, lads, great performance tonight. Enjoy the win, but don't let it go to your heads. Training starts Monday, bright and early. David, Curtis—good job up there."
As the players began to disperse, David stayed back for a mont, replaying the night in his mind. He'd scored the winner, conquered the press, and earned the respect of his teammates.
The road ahead was long, and the challenges would only get tougher. But if tonight had proved anything, it was that David Jones was ready for whatever ca next.
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