Chapter 89: [89] "The January Clearance"
The transfer window in January seemingly moved differently, especially compared to that of the summer.
Summer was ambition dressed as strategy. January was a bit more decisive. Clubs cutting losses, cashing in on discontented players, manufacturing exits for men whose hearts had already left the club’s project months before they later followed.
SC Valois had two of those men.
Henri called Luc into the office on the morning of January 8th, the day after the Vannes cup tie.
Henri had two names written in red pen, circled once.
LACOMBE. DEMIRCI.
"Lacombe has accepted a move to RC Alsace," Henri said, sitting behind the desk with his hands flat on the surface. "It’s a three-year deal. It’s the longest and highest paying contract he’s been offered in his career. His agent called me last night."
Luc read the names. "And Demirci?"
"Tied to Union Aquitaine. They lost their right winger in December to a serious knee injury. They need cover. Demirci wants regular first-team football without competition." Henri rubbed the back of his neck. "He hasn’t been a starter since he took a knock and Cillian started filling in at wide right. With how we need to play from now on, tactical demands increasingly ask for a different profile from both Dermici and even Cillian in that role."
Luc pulled a chair and sat down without being offered one.
"When do they go?"
"The paperwork clears by the fourteenth, after the Nord game. They can continue training with us till the thirteenth."
"Right between AC Nord away." Luc folded his arms. "You’re telling me this now."
"I’m telling you this now because Valérie wanted the squad notified in the right order. The board first. Then you. Then the team." Henri looked at him directly. "You’re effectively the last person who needed to know before the dressing room."
The promotion in the chain of command was still strange.
"Idriss," Luc said.
"What about him?"
"He’s had strong performances. I believe we should have no problem ahead of Lacombe’s departure."
He walked out after they had discussed some of his other teammates.
---
The locker room had already heard between the time Luc had stopped to get his things from his car before arriving in the dressing room.
Cillian was sitting with his arms on his knees looking at the floor between his boots, processing the departure of someone he’d been playing alongside for full seasons was always tough.
Idriss was pulling on his shin guards in complete silence, which was not unusual, except the silence had a different quality to it this morning. He was calculating his position in a squad that was actively reshaping itself. Hoping he wouldn’t have to fight as much to retain a starting position as he did at the beginning of the season.
Bastien was at his locker with his back to the room.
Luc walked past all of them, since they already knew, no need to re-announce it. He dropped his bag, laced his boots, and went straight to the pitch.
Klaus was already outside, doing passing combinations with the reserve goalkeeper because his personal trainer had apparently designed a session specifically for wet January grass.
He looked up as Luc from across the pitch.
"Heard about Lacombe and the Norwegian, Derma," Klaus said, striking a ball to the keeper’s left.
"It’s Demirci, and he’s Turkish," Luc said.
"That actually checks out. He plays like a Turk." Klaus received the return pass. "We’re light in the wide areas now."
"We were always light in the wide areas. The difference is now we have no natural right anymore."
Klaus drove another shot to the keeper. "Valérie is buying?"
"Already bought." Luc picked up a ball from the training bag. "Apparently."
Klaus looked at him properly then.
"You don’t know who."
"I know just the one she told me." Luc placed the ball at his feet. "You can never read her well enough."
---
Bastien found Luc after the session.
Bastien stood at the edge of the training area in his muddy boots, his training jacket unzipped despite the cold temperature.
"I heard you told Henri I should continue to start," Bastien said.
Luc toweled sweat from the back of his neck. "I told Henri you’d been performing above the level of the players ahead of you."
"Same thing."
"Maybe, but not exactly."
Bastien came a step closer. The tentativeness that had defined his first months at the club was largely gone. What remained was a young player who had slowly, painfully earned the right to be direct.
"Luc, I know I’m not guaranteed a position in midfield. Now that Dario is fully fit we’ll likely move on from the ’central midfielders playing wide’ thing, am I starting against Nord on Saturday?"
"That’s Henri’s decision."
"But you carry weight with Henri."
"I carry weight with Henri on tactical matters," Luc said. "Lineup selection is his job at the real end. My job is to make the lineup relevant or irrelevant enough for some changes once the whistle blows."
Bastien absorbed that without flinching.
"I’ll be ready," Bastien said. "Whether he starts me or not, I’ll be ready."
"I know you will be," Luc said.
---
Lacombe came to Luc’s apartment that evening.
Not at Juliette’s. At Luc’s actual apartment, the one in the 8th arrondissement that he’d largely abandoned but still kept the keys to because Valérie paid the lease. Not all the members of the squad knew Luc had moved in with Juliette. Lacombe was lucky to catch him on the day he needed to get something.
Lacombe knocked. Luc opened the door.
Noé Lacombe stood in a heavy wool coat, his hands in his pockets, his face carrying the expression of a man who had made a conclusive decision.
"Alsace," Luc said, stepping aside.
Lacombe walked in. "Three years. Their manager wants me as the central attacking piece. It’s the kind of role I’ve never had here."
"Because of me and now Idriss."
"Don’t rub salt in my wound." Lacombe sat on the counter stool. "I’m not bitter about that. I want you to know that. You’re better than me. I know it. You’re probably going to be better than every striker in this league if you aren’t already."
Lacombe broke his train of thought a bit, then continued, "the thing is, I helped build what you have here. I was part of the early wins, like your first match."
"You were."
"I just wanted to say that. Before the window closed and I was in a different city and it was too late to say it without it looking like I was being sentimental."
Luc leaned against the kitchen counter.
"You set up important goals this season," Luc said. "You played your role every time it was asked of you. Alsace are getting a complete player."
Lacombe stood up. He extended his hand.
Luc shook it.
"Win the cup, since my new club are already out, I’ll continue to root for Valois," Lacombe said at the door.
"We intend to."
---
Demirci’s goodbye was shorter.
A handshake in the corridor after the final joint training session on the twelfth, Friday before Nord. Two sentences. Something about luck and something about goals. Then Demirci picked up his bag and walked out through the same gates he’d walked through for four years.
Nobody made a scene of it.
That was the most honest version of a footballer’s exit. Just a simple goodbye, a bag, and a different set of training cones waiting at his next club.
[System Notification]
[Squad Composition Update: Lacombe and Demirci departed.]
[Wide coverage and overall squad depth reduced.]
[Valérie Laurent has initiated two transfer acquisitions. Arrivals pending.]
[The window is still open. The team is reshaping.]
The team was reshaping. That was one way to put it.
He walked to the car park, got in the Porsche, and drove toward Juliette’s. The transfer window had taken three players from them in total.
Whatever it gave back would arrive in different personalities entirely. Klaus as one example.