Often times, it was important to take the good with the bad. Such as life, Giovanni would get a rude awakening to the reality of football. Soccer could be a fixed sport.
While the better team would usually win, underdogs won more often than they really should've because of betting curves created by odds makers, controlled by gangs such as the Triwizards. But a rival gang, another of the larger gangs in the reach of the ten galaxies, the Zetats wanted a piece of the action now. And Viche didn't want to budge. While all Gio wanted to do was play soccer, it would get a lot more complicated when a knock came at his mom's door when he was home alone.
It was Viche Vichescha himself, and he had an interesting proposition for young Giovanni Jurgen, who wore the number nine jersey in honor of his grandfather he never knew.
"Do I know you?" Gio asked in a flat tone.
"I was friends with your grandfather," the aging Viche replied.
"Can I help you or something?" Gio posed.
"What's more important to you: money or fame?"
Gio scratched his head for a brief second and said, "I'm not sure. No one has ever asked me that, but aren't they correlated in a way?" Gio quizzed, totally unsure of how Viche knew Pep.
"I used to fix games with your grandpa. I'd ask him to lose to the most unthinkable teams when he was on a heater."
"He didn't do that, though, right?" Gio said, having only been told of his grandfather's nobility and truthfulness.
"He did a few times, when he was trying to pay back that massive loan he took out to bankroll the purchase of the Sancho twins you play with now," Viche informed.
"I'd choose money," Gio let out, knowing he could be in for a lot of it.
"Excellent," Viche said as he wrapped his arm around Gio's shoulder and took him to the carrier truck parked at his house. "In this truck," Viche paused for dramatic effect, "is one thousand suitcases full of unmarked thousand dollar bills. It is just over two billion dollars worth of money, and you just have to do us a simple favor to have it all."
"What am I supposed to do?" Gio bravely asked.
"All you have to do is never score a single goal in your entire career!" Viche said like it would be easy for a goal-hungry talent to not score a single goal. After all, even some goalkeepers have scored goals. Gio had no clue how he was supposed to play for thirty-four years without scoring a single goal.
"Umm," Gio said, a bit reserved as to the fact Viche was asking him to tank his career, "I don't know if I can do that."
"Look, Giovanni, the most you'd possibly make even as a top player is three hundred million less than what we're offering. Why wouldn't you take the offer? It's all straight up cash. You literally don't even have to do anything for it. And, I'll give you the option to accept payments weekly. You don't have to take it all at once. We realize it can be awfully tricky putting more than 1.2 million dollars in the bank, and I'm willing to protect your money for you for free. People are already betting on it. This could make both of us very wealthy," Viche said as he opened the back of the truck, grabbed a suitcase full of jewels, and tried to sweeten the deal he thought he could lose, "you take me as a jewelry man. Do you like watches?" Viche asked as he put a gorgeous gold banded watch on Gio's hand.
"I know what you're doing," Gio jerked back, but the glare of the watch took him. He was lost in its craftsmanship.
"Here," Viche said as he finished putting it on his hand, "this is the most valuable watch in the entire world. It's estimated value is fifty-five million dollars. I want you to have it to at least consider my offer, but should you not accept my offer, the watch comes back to me, or you lose your left hand."
