The submission of the case to the KNVB marked the beginning of a new, more agonizing phase: the waiting. The meticulous preparation, the strategic meetings, the flurry of activity compiling reports and consents – all of it gave way to an unnerving quiet.
The future, once a distant concept, now felt suspended, hanging precariously on the deliberations of unseen committees and the interpretation of dense legal statutes.
Days bled as time went on. The off-season continued, marked by individual training schedules, school, and the slow rhythm of life outside the intense demands of the regular season.
For Amani and Malik, the initial relief of the break began to fray at the edges, replaced by a low hum of anxiety. While Mr. Pieters, the lawyer, who handled the direct communication with the KNVB, and Kristen Stein made it a point to keep Amani and Malik informed, albeit in simplified terms.
"So, what happens now?" Malik asked one afternoon, sprawled on the common room sofa, ostensibly studying Dutch vocabulary but mostly staring blankly at the page.
Kristen sat opposite them, a file open on her lap, though her focus was on the boys. "Now, the KNVB reviews everything we sent them. Their legal team checks if our arguments hold up, if the support plan is solid, if Amani truly qualifies as an exceptional case."
"And what are the arguments?" Amani asked quietly. He found the legal jargon confusing, but he needed to grasp the essence of what was being decided about his life.
"Essentially," Kristen said, trying to keep the legalese out of her voice, "we argued that the normal Dutch rules barring paid contracts for anyone under sixteen just don't make sense in your case.
The KNVB panel saw your highlight reel, three Eredivisie goals and six assists in only four senior appearances. They read the scouting dossier that calls you 'technically mature beyond his years, tactically adaptable, and already physically resilient enough to survive weekly first-team minutes.'
We showed them Coach Pronk's grading sheet straight A's for vision, decision-speed, and work-rate, plus a note from Jan Wouters himself that says, and I quote, 'Hamadi can already hold his own at this level; shielding him from professional minutes would stunt, not safeguard, his development.'"
She turned the dossier so Amani could see the bolded bullets:
Eredivisie impact: 3 G / 6 A, debut season
Duels won: 74 % vs. senior opposition
Physio report: negligible injury risk; rapid post-match recovery
Education plan: individualized schedule, on-site tutors, nightly study hall
Safeguards: strict minute cap, psychologist on call, guardian liaison
Kristen tapped the last line. "We had to prove the club will treat you like a student first, athlete second. Mandatory tutoring blocks, limits on double-session days, built-in rest windows, everything.
The board needed to believe this contract isn't 'child labor'; it's a structured educational pathway for an elite talent. And those numbers, your three goals, six assists, the way you threaded that pass at Kerkrade, let's just say they made our case a lot easier."
"And the money?" Malik chimed in, always interested in the practicalities. "It says here that it is €10,000 a week? Does that cause problems?"
Kristen nodded. "Ten thousand gross, yes but remember, a big slice goes straight into a protected trust. Until you're eighteen, you'll only receive a modest stipend for day-to-day expenses.
The rest is locked for education costs, family support, and long-term savings. That structure helped the board approve it; it shows we're not handing a teenager a blank cheque."
10000? Amani's thoughts travelled to his previous life of living in a small shack in Kibera.
Kristen managed a small smile. "It makes them look closer, yes. We had to justify it based on Amani's projected value and the club's investment in his future. Mr. Pieters framed it carefully to show it's part of a long-term development plan, not just a salary for immediate work."
"So, the KNVB looks at all that… then what?" Amani pressed.
"If they agree with our case, they add their official support and send the whole file to the government's Labour Inspectorate. They are the ones who make the final decision, granting the official exemption from the youth labor law."
"And if the KNVB doesn't agree?" Malik asked, voicing the fear they both felt.
Kristen's expression tightened slightly. "Then it becomes much harder. We could potentially appeal or try to address their concerns, but their endorsement is very important. Mr. Pieters believes we have a strong case, but there are no guarantees. These decisions involve interpretation of the law, and sometimes, bureaucratic delays."
The uncertainty settled heavily in the room. Amani tried to focus on his training, pouring his nervous energy into the fitness drills prescribed by the academy staff.
He ran longer distances, pushed himself harder in the gym, and practiced his dribbling and shooting against the unforgiving rebound walls. Physical exertion was his only outlet, the one thing he felt he could control.
Malik dealt with the tension differently. He cracked more jokes, tried to organize impromptu football games with other academy players staying over the break, and spent hours playing video games.
But even his usual bravado couldn't completely mask the underlying worry. He knew how much this meant to Amani, and by extension, to him. Their fates felt intertwined.
Mr. Stein remained a figure of quiet confidence, though even he showed subtle signs of the strain. He spent more time on the phone, his conversations often lapsing into hushed tones. He offered Amani reassuring nods but few concrete updates, aware that word of a teenage prodigy could travel fast.
Already, whispers from rival clubs and agents had begun to circulate beyond Utrecht's walls, reminding Stein how quickly a wealthier suitor might swoop in if the club did not move swiftly. His faith in Amani's talent was unwavering, but he was experienced enough to know that talent alone didn't always win bureaucratic battles.
Coach Pronk, meanwhile, used the waiting period to work individually with Amani, focusing on tactical nuances and decision-making drills. It was his way of investing in the future he believed in, regardless of the pending legal outcome.
"Control what you can control, Amani," he advised during one session. "Your fitness, your touch, your understanding of the game. Let the lawyers handle the paperwork. Your job is to be ready when the chance comes."
Days passed and June arrived, bringing longer days and warmer weather, though the chill of uncertainty remained. News trickled back from Mr. Pieters via Kristen. The KNVB had requested clarification on specific points in the educational plan.
They wanted further details on the proposed mentorship structure. Each request sent ripples of anxiety through the small group invested in Amani's future, followed by a flurry of activity as Kristen and her team gathered the necessary information and Pieters drafted the formal responses.
"Is this normal? Them asking more questions?" Amani asked Kristen after one such request.
"It can be," she reassured him, though her own brow was furrowed. "It shows they are reviewing it thoroughly, which is good. It means they haven't dismissed it outright. We just need to provide clear, comprehensive answers."
The process felt opaque, frustratingly slow. Amani found himself constantly checking his phone, hoping for news, any news. He tried to distract himself by exploring Utrecht's historic center with Malik, wandering along the canals, gazing up at the Dom Tower, but the weight of the pending decision was a constant companion.
He thought about his mother and grandmother back in Kenya. Mr. Stein had told them the club was trying to arrange a special contract, but Amani hadn't burdened them with the details of the legal hurdles. He didn't want them to worry. But their hopes, their future, were tied to this decision too. The pressure felt immense.
One evening, feeling particularly restless, Amani found Mr. Stein sitting alone on a bench overlooking the training pitches, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
"Still waiting, Mr. Stein?" Amani asked, sitting down beside him.
The old scout sighed. "Bureaucracy, Amani. It moves at its own pace. Always has, always will."
"Do you think… do you think it will work?" Amani ventured, the question hanging nervously in the air.
Mr. Stein turned to look at him, his eyes kind but realistic. "I believe in your talent, Amani. I believe in the case we put forward. Kristen and Pronk have done excellent work. Pieters is a good lawyer. We have done everything we can."
He paused, looking back towards the empty pitches. "But these things… they involve interpretations, precedents, sometimes politics within the organizations. It is not just about football. We have presented the strongest possible argument for why you are an exception, why this is the right path for you, and for the club. Now… we wait for others to see it too."
The waiting continued. The case sat on desks at the KNVB, then, presumably, moved to the Labour Inspectorate. Each passing day without news stretched the tension thinner.
The dream of a professional contract, once a distant star, now felt tantalizingly close yet potentially unreachable, hidden behind layers of legal tape and bureaucratic procedure. The maze wasn't just complex; it was agonizingly slow.
***
Thank you