A few days after the exhilarating news of the legal approval, Amani received a formal summons. Not to Kristen Stein's usual office or Coach Pronk's tactical room, but to the main administrative building – the heart of FC Utrecht's operations, adjacent to the imposing Stadion Galgenwaard. The request specified his presence, along with Mr. Stein as his guardian representative, in the club's primary boardroom at 10:00 AM sharp.
This felt different. More official, more significant than any meeting he'd attended before. The nervous energy that had dissipated after the breakthrough returned, albeit tinged with anticipation rather than dread. He dressed carefully, choosing the neatest club-issued polo shirt and trousers he owned.
Beside him, Mr. Stein offered a quiet, reassuring smile, though Amani could see the deep satisfaction in the veteran scout's eyes. This was the culmination of the journey Stein had initiated months ago on a dusty field in Mombasa.
They walked across the complex. The familiar training pitches and academy buildings seemed almost ordinary compared to the destination. Entering the main building felt like crossing a threshold.
The corridors were quieter here, carpeted, adorned with large, framed photographs of club legends and historic victories. The air hummed with a low thrum of serious business.
They were escorted to the boardroom, the same room where Amani's future had been debated by the board members. This time, however, the atmosphere was entirely different. Mr. Jansen, the Financial Director, and Ms. De Vries, Head of Legal Affairs, were present, but their expressions were no longer skeptical or cautious.
They appeared professional, welcoming. Kristen Stein and Coach Pronk were also there, their supportive presence a comfort to Amani.
At the head of the long, polished table sat the club's Technical Director, a respected figure Amani had only seen from a distance before. He gestured for Amani and Mr. Stein to take seats opposite him.
"Amani, Mr. Stein, welcome," the Technical Director began, his voice calm and authoritative. "Firstly, on behalf of the entire club, congratulations. We understand the journey you have undertaken to reach this point, Amani, and the dedication you have shown since arriving here. We are also immensely grateful," he added, nodding towards Kristen, Pronk, and Stein, "for the diligent work done by our staff to navigate the necessary procedures to make this possible."
He slid a thick, bound document across the table towards Amani. "As you know, the necessary approvals have been granted. Therefore, it is my distinct pleasure to formally present you with this offer of a professional contract with FC Utrecht."
Amani stared at the document. It looked incredibly official, bound in the club's colours, the FC Utrecht crest embossed on the cover. His name was typed neatly on the front page. Professional Contract: Amani Hamadi. His breath hitched. This was it. The physical manifestation of the dream.
And yet the Technical Director wasn't finished. After a short pause, he leaned forward with a hint of pride in his voice. "Amani, you must know that on the pitch, you've been nothing short of spectacular. Three goals and six assists in just four games in the Eredivisie at fifteen years old… that's virtually unheard of. It caught everyone's attention, even beyond this club. Rival teams have been inquiring about you, which is exactly why we had to move quickly to lock you down here."
He paused, letting the magnitude of that sink in. Amani's eyes remained on the document, but inside his head, the numbers swirled. Three goals… six assists… in four games. The enormity of it hit him anew.
He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and drew the document closer. Mr. Stein placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Take your time, Amani. Kristen and I have reviewed the details with Mr. Pieters. It reflects everything discussed," Mr. Stein advised quietly.
"We encourage you to read it thoroughly, of course," Ms. De Vries added smoothly. "But allow me to highlight the key financial terms, as agreed upon by the board."
She consulted a paper in front of her. "The contract is for an initial period of three years, the maximum allowable duration for a first professional contract signed by a minor under FIFA regulations. The remuneration package includes a base weekly salary of ten thousand euros (€10,000)."
Ten thousand euros. A week. The number echoed in Amani's mind, staggering in its implications. He tried to convert it mentally to Kenyan shillings, and the figure was astronomical, almost nonsensical. It was more money than his entire village probably saw in months, maybe years.
It was enough to change everything for his family. Enough to ensure his mother and grandmother lived comfortably, enough for education, for healthcare, for security he could barely have imagined just two years ago. The weight of that figure, the responsibility it represented, felt immense.
Ms. De Vries continued, outlining other components – performance-related bonuses (structured carefully to comply with youth regulations), contributions towards housing and living expenses, and the continuation of the comprehensive educational and welfare support outlined in the legal petition.
"It is a significant investment from the club," Mr. Jansen stated, his tone now one of pragmatic expectation rather than doubt. "It reflects our belief in your potential, Amani. We expect dedication, hard work, and continuous development in return."
"I understand, sir," Amani managed, finding his voice. "I will work harder than ever."
He opened the contract, flipping through the pages filled with dense legal text. He saw clauses about training obligations, conduct, image rights, and the strict conditions mandated by the Labour Inspectorate regarding working hours and education.
It was daunting, but beneath the legality, the core message was clear: he was officially a professional footballer for FC Utrecht.
After allowing Amani a few minutes to absorb the document, the Technical Director spoke again, shifting to a more practical matter. "Now, Amani, with the signing of this contract, you officially become part of the professional setup. As of next week, you will begin training full-time with the senior team under Coach Jan Wouters. Your development will be carefully managed to ensure you're not overloaded, but this step marks your formal inclusion in the first-team environment."
He smiled slightly. "This often comes with certain… perks. Including the potential to choose a squad number more traditionally associated with the first team, if you wish. You were assigned number 37 upon arrival at the academy."
Coach Pronk continued, "Next season, you'll officially be part of the first-team roster, though your minutes will be carefully managed due to your age. It's about easing you in, not overloading. Typically, first-team squad numbers range from 1 to 30. If there's a particular number you'd like provided that it is unclaimed, this is the time to speak up."
Amani looked surprised. He hadn't even considered changing his number. Thirty-seven had been assigned to him randomly when he first received his academy training kit. It hadn't held any particular significance then, just a two-digit identifier on his back.
He thought for a moment. Lower numbers felt more 'senior,' more established. Maybe number 10, the classic playmaker's number? Or 7, often worn by skillful wingers? It was tempting, a symbol of his new status.
But then he thought about the journey. Number 37 had been on his back during those first grueling training sessions in the cold Dutch air. It was the number he wore when he struggled to adapt, when he pushed himself through the demanding medicals, when he scored his first goals in academy scrimmages.
It was the number Kristen, Mr. Stein, and Coach Pronk had watched, assessed, and ultimately advocated for. It felt like his number now, intrinsically linked to this improbable chapter of his life.
He looked up, meeting the Technical Director's gaze. "Thank you for the offer, sir," Amani said respectfully. "But I would like to keep number 37."
The room was quiet for a beat. Kristen and Mr. Stein exchanged a subtle, knowing glance.
"Oh?" the Technical Director raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Any particular reason? It's somewhat unusual for a player signing professionally to stick with a higher academy number if given the choice."
Amani hesitated, then spoke from the heart. "It's the number I was given when I first arrived here, when everything was new and difficult. It was on my back when I started learning, when I started proving myself to Coach Pronk, to Mr. Stein, to everyone. It feels… like it's part of my story here now. It reminds me of where I started at FC Utrecht. I want to make this number known."
His explanation was simple, honest. It spoke of humility, of acknowledging the journey rather than just grasping at the symbols of arrival. A ripple of approval went through the room. Mr. Jansen nodded almost imperceptibly. Coach Pronk's lips curved into a small smile.
"An admirable sentiment, Amani," the Technical Director said, his voice warm. "Number 37 it is, then. We respect your choice."
The meeting concluded shortly after. Amani left the boardroom clutching the contract, the weight of the paper feeling both heavy and exhilarating. Ten thousand euros a week. Number 37. Professional footballer. The words swirled in his head, concepts so immense they were hard to fully grasp.
As he stepped back out into the daylight with Mr. Stein, the world seemed subtly altered. The future wasn't just a possibility anymore; it was a signed document, a weekly salary, a number on his back that he had chosen to define, rather than letting it define him.