c39: The Mission Must Be Completed
Just last night, while Vardy was indulging in a night of passion with a blonde beauty, the English football world was buzzing with excitement.
After scoring the winner against Manchester United in the last league round a stunning solo run that left Rio Ferdinand and Wes Brown in the dust Vardy came off the bench again in this match to net the equalizer. Two goals in two substitute appearances this kind of efficiency was unheard of, and it instantly made Vardy a media sensation.
While Wayne Rooney had burst onto the Premier League stage by scoring a screamer against Arsenal at just 16 years old and ended the 2002–03 season with six goals in 33 appearances for Everton, Vardy's early career exploits were carving their own legend. Rooney was a prodigy. But Vardy? Vardy was a phenomenon rising from the mud of non-league football.
Two goals in two games. Not starts substitute appearances. His goals were not just tap-ins either. They were clinical, composed, and timely. For fans, pundits, and even rival managers, it wasn't just form.it was flair, composure, and instinct. Vardy didn't look like someone testing the waters in top-flight football. He looked like someone who belonged.
All of a sudden, Vardy's story became legend overnight.
"I play Sunday League, too. If Vardy can score at Old Trafford, why can't I?"
That was the sentiment echoing through pubs, parks, and locker rooms all over England.
His performances sparked a quiet revolution. If a player like Jamie Vardy could make the leap from Stocksbridge Park Steels to Everton and deliver Premier League points, how many other hidden gems were being overlooked? Clubs began deploying more scouts to lower-league matches, youth fixtures, and even Sunday Leagues, hoping to unearth the next Vardy. This was the Vardy Effect in full swing.
Even Sir Alex Ferguson, who had personally watched Vardy tear through his defense, was left speechless. Vardy's goal against Manchester United was a classic counter-attacking screamer, but in this game against Everton it was a different kind of brilliance. With City struggling to break down Everton's disciplined back line, Vardy made a subtle run between Tony Hibbert and Joseph Yobo, latched onto Arteta's through ball, and slotted it past Nigel Martyn with icy precision. It was a poacher's goal positioning, timing, instinct. A hallmark of a natural finisher.
Ferguson's face was expressionless, but his mind was racing. Had he misjudged? What if United hadn't sent Vardy out on loan this summer? With Ruud van Nistelrooy and Rooney sidelined, Saha unreliable, Bellion ineffective, and Solskjær still recovering post-surgery, the "abundance" up front now looked painfully thin.
And now, here was Vardy, not just surviving but thriving, scoring match-changing goals against Premier League opposition with a swagger that defied his humble origins. The two goals had directly earned Everton four points points that could be pivotal in a race for European spots.
But it was too late for regrets now.
Jamie Vardy had become the Premier League's most sensational newcomer. A super-sub. A folk hero. The press dubbed him "The People's Striker," and newspapers splashed his name across back pages with headlines like "From Pub to Premier League: Vardy's Rise" and "The Boy Who Outscored Rooney".
Of course, everyone knew how fickle the media could be. If Vardy drew a blank in the next match, he would no longer be the inspirational story he'd become a target. But for now, he was riding the wave.
The following morning, back at Finch Farm training ground, the mood was light. Everyone had seen Vardy at the club's team party the night before. And while no one openly talked about it in front of manager David Moyes who would've benched anyone caught sneaking into a nightclub on the pitch, the jokes flew freely.
During interval training, Thomas Gravesen jogged over with a mischievous grin. "Jamie, I saw you dancing last night. That blonde glued to your side you two were getting along better than Phil Neville and a sideways pass!"
Vardy chuckled nervously.
"Oi, don't act innocent," piped up goalkeeper Richard Wright. "Your girl made mine look like Tony Hibbert in a nightclub. Where'd you find her Champions League level or World Cup?"
"I think we've all been wrong about you," said Leon Osman with a lewd smile. "You don't chase them. You just wait, and they come to you. You've got that 'mystery' vibe like Berbatov, but with better hair."
Vardy gave a long, helpless sigh. He knew there was no escaping these three animals.
But the worst part?
They weren't wrong.
I didn't do anything, but the beautiful woman came to me, and I spent a wonderful night with her.
No wonder their tone sounds sour!
"You can't be envious. Look at you, you two have bald heads and your height is a disadvantage. How could you be as popular as a young boy like me?" Vardy hit the three friends mercilessly.
That's right Gravesen and Carsley were famously bald even during their playing days, while Leon Osman stood only 172 cm tall. By contrast, Vardy, full of energy and charm, looked every bit the modern-day football idol.
As soon as he finished speaking, the three men ganged up and gave Vardy a rough tumble, making him cry for his parents.
The rest of the team only gave them a quick glance before returning to their drills. After all, it was Vardy again. He was always the one getting "punished" after running his mouth.
...
After training, Vardy hitched a ride home in Carsley's car and locked himself in his flat.
That's right. He had one goal in mind—access the system and collect his rewards.
Everton's 1–1 draw had secured them a valuable point, and with Vardy scoring the equalizer and being named Man of the Match, he had earned three system coins.
Added to the five he earned from scoring the winning goal against Manchester United in the previous round, his total balance now stood at eight.
Still, even with eight coins, the top-tier traits and upgrades in the system remained painfully out of reach. Vardy could only kneel before the overpriced goods.
And because he hadn't pulled off any outrageous or comedic moments in the last match, he didn't get any new trait points. A pity, really—he could've used more quirks like "Crowd Hypeman" or "Unflappable."
However, what gnawed at Vardy most were the active missions received mid-game.
Three red cards!
If he didn't care about Everton's fortunes, he would've dived headfirst into the challenge—three red cards meant a random unique trait and five valuable trait points.
But how could he do that to Everton? It felt completely unprofessional.
Everton, under David Moyes, was a club with grit and a strong team ethic. Even without Vardy, they had reached the Premier League and punched above their weight. He knew he was just the icing on the cake—not the cake itself.
After a full night of agonizing over it, Vardy reached a hazy conclusion.
The mission had to be completed. The rewards were too good to pass up. But the red cards had to be earned strategically.
He analyzed the fixture list. As long as he didn't get suspended for high-stakes matches—against clubs like Arsenal, Chelsea, or United—it wouldn't affect the club too badly. He'd sit out the easier games, like the ones against struggling sides such as West Brom or Sunderland.
He'd also make sure that any red card-worthy foul or incident only happened once Everton had built a safe lead. After all, what's the use of scoring if your sending-off causes the team to drop points?
In that light, this challenge didn't seem so bad. Vardy could work the system while still protecting Everton's interests.
Complete the task. Grow stronger. Help the team. All in one go.
It was a brilliant plan—one that made Vardy chuckle smugly.
Of course, deep down, he still cursed the system every few minutes. What kind of idiotic mission was this? If he didn't need the system to become the next Premier League superstar, he would've uninstalled it already.
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