"What is this?!" he shouted. "I scored an important goal st year! I'm an icon of this club!"
Jeremie Cordell, the tattooed midfielder who appeared more on social media than in game statistics, clenched his fists.
"We’re the foundation of the team, and he... Reinhart... treats us like garbage!"
Their grumbling grew louder, and soon they decided to confront Reinhart directly.
"Hey, Reinhart, what’s the meaning of selling us?"
"You’re a rotting foundation. And I’m rebuilding," Reinhart replied calmly.
However, the cold stare only made Jeremie, Halvor, Luiz, and Milo explode.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY A ROTTING FOUNDATION? YOU BROUGHT IN KIDS AND TURNED THIS CLUB INTO A FOSTER HOME!" Jeremie’s shout was so loud it caught the attention of other pyers.
Reinhart, calm as ever, opened his tablet and spoke:
"Training from this week..."
"Luis (5) left-winger with low speed and poor passing, very unsuitable for a wing-back. Milo (5.3) failed to provide creative py and always wasted the ball. Jeremie (6.1) (4 goals, 1 assist in a week) is zy and doesn’t help his teammates. Lastly, Halvor (4) just stands up front, can’t read his teammates’ vision, and his headers are mediocre. Not up to the standard for a striker."
Hearing this, the four pyers swallowed hard because that was all they had done, even though they were pying against the reserve team.
But Reinhart didn’t stop there, reading more notes aloud:
"Lucien Ito, 1 day of training (7.5), always positioned in the blind spots of the starting pyers. Recorded many successful passes. Passing accuracy 87%, crossing accuracy 85%. 3 assists, 2 goals. Duvant, 1 day of training (8), was able to disrupt the starting team’s defense. Scored 3 goals, 2 assists."
"Do you see the difference?" Reinhart said, making the atmosphere even more somber.
"Two pyers who just trained yesterday had better stats than you over the entire week. Even with their weak nguage skills, and they’re pying with the reserve team. You’re trash, not fit for my pns. No debate, you’re all being sold."
With firm, authoritative steps, Captain Conrad walked towards Reinhart. His strong aura diverted everyone’s attention. The young pyers, the coaches, even the four senior pyers who had just been verbally reprimanded by Reinhart, all focused on the captain.
Conrad wasn’t just a senior pyer; he was a living legend of Bradford, the one who stayed when the club was relegated, the one who led his teammates when their saries were deyed, the one who kept pying despite injuries, the true one-team pyer.
"Reinhart!" Conrad's voice boomed, cutting through the tense silence. "Enough with your dictatorship."
Reinhart only gnced briefly, his expression still ft.
"I’ve been here for a long time. I know who works hard and who wastes time. But you... you’ve been here only a few weeks, acting like you know everything. We’re not just numbers in your damn stats."
Jeremie, Halvor, Luiz, and Milo felt a slight lift in their spirits. Other pyers began whispering, watching closely. But Conrad wasn’t finished.
"Yes, their performances have dropped. But they’re human, not robots. Sometimes it takes time, sometimes they need a push, not being humiliated and discarded like trash. You say you want to rebuild this team? By destroying what little foundation we have left?"
Reinhart stood, still holding his tablet, without replying a single word.
"You think those young kids will be loyal to you after seeing how you treat the seniors?" Conrad stepped closer, standing only a meter in front of Reinhart. "Lucien, Duvant... will they trust you if today you discard those who’ve fought for this club for so long?"
Still, no response. Reinhart just stared at Conrad with a bnk look before turning his gaze away.
"I won’t let you treat us like this," Conrad continued, his voice rising. "If you want to build a team, do it with heart. Not with numbers, not with a cold attitude suited only for machines."
The atmosphere grew even more tense. Everyone waited to see if Reinhart would lose his temper.
But suddenly, Reinhart lowered his tablet, gnced at the clock on the wall, then without a word, turned around and walked out of the room. His steps were calm, almost painfully unwavering.
Conrad clenched his fists. "DID YOU HEAR ME, REINHART?!"
Reinhart didn’t stop. He opened the door and left without a gnce.
Silence.
No one dared to speak. Some pyers just looked down. The young ones seemed confused. The older ones appeared defeated. Even Jeremie, who had been the most furious, could only sit in silence, letting the reality seep into him.
Conrad stood frozen, his breath heavy with emotion. But behind his stern face, there was a deep wound and disappointment.
Perhaps for the first time in his career, the captain felt powerless.
The next five days passed like a storm.
Cassandra, with exceptional efficiency, handled the negotiations and transfers. There was no room for drama or tears. A total of eleven pyers were sold to various clubs, with the transfer sales reaching ￡2,000,000. Jeremie, Halvor, Luiz, Milo, and several others all left Bradford City. There were no farewells, no ceremonies. Only their names disappeared from the locker room board.
On forums and in comment sections, the debates were inevitable. “Finally! Enough of the pyers who only run in style on the field. Reinhart is fixing the foundation. I support this!” – @HollowPassion “This is crazy. Holt was the heart of the club. You can’t throw away the heart and expect the body to survive.” – @ZanderForever “Is this club going bankrupt in the end?” – @Bradforddown “Sometimes we have to burn the forest to grow a new one. I believe in this fire.” – @TrueTactics “Without icons, without direction. This club has lost its soul. Be careful, Reinhart.” – @OldBloodBradford
Three days ter, news broke that stunned fans again—senior coach Josh, Jean Paul, and the marketing director Branford were all fired due to a scandal involving pyer recruitment that didn’t align with one of the pyer agencies.