The Riverside fell into a strange hush.
Every eye in the ground followed the spinning ball as it arced into the sky. Even the benches on both sides stared, momentarily frozen, unable to process what Jake Ashbourne had just tried.
"Is he… shooting from there?" someone in the East Stand blurted, half–laughing in disbelief.
From the touchline, a few Bournemouth subs exchanged glances.
"That's sixty yards… it's sailing out, surely."
It had all happened so fast. Digger's run down the right had opened a channel, but instead of pushing further forward, Jake had taken one touch, looked up, and launched it from just inside the centre circle.
High. Too high, most thought.
The Bournemouth goalkeeper had been bracing for a long clearance, already stepping forward to watch it drift over the bar. But as the ball reached its peak, something was wrong. It wasn't just dropping — it was dipping, violently, spinning back toward goal like it had been pulled by a string.
A falling ball.
The keeper's casual jog turned into a desperate back–pedal. His eyes widened. He leapt to meet it, hands outstretched.
"There's no way that's got power from there," he told himself — just before the ball crashed off his palms with a sting that numbed his fingers.
It ricocheted off him, down into the side netting.
The referee pointed to the centre spot. Goal.
For a split second, the stadium was stunned. Then the noise came like a wave.
"It's in!"
"It's in!"
"Oh my god — Ashbourne from halfway!"
The Riverside roared like it hadn't in years. Fans were on their feet, some hugging strangers, others clutching their heads in shock.
Dylan Mercer, up in the press box, had been mid–sentence into his recorder. The moment the ball dropped in, he nearly dropped the mic. He'd seen chips, screamers, volleys — but this? From sixty yards? In the Championship? From a sixteen–year–old American?
Down on the pitch, Jake raised both arms, letting the sound wash over him. This was why he played — the rush, the disbelief in the faces around him, the way a single moment could make the whole stadium feel alive.
Bournemouth players glanced at each other, deflated. That one strike had ripped the air out of them.
The rest of the half played out with Middlesbrough in full control, pressing harder, feeding off the energy from the stands.
At the break, Coach Mark Marrow didn't hold back. He wrapped Jake in a hug that nearly lifted him off the floor.
"You see what you just did? You broke them. Absolutely broke them."
Every teammate came over to slap his back, grab his shoulders, or pull him into a quick embrace.
"We're not losing this now."
"Must win, boys. Must win."
They kept their word. In the second half, Bournemouth's spirit was gone. Jake threaded another perfect ball through for Onajeke, who buried the second.
Full–time: Middlesbrough 2–0 Bournemouth. Five straight wins in the league.
The next morning, the headlines were everywhere in Teesside:
"Ashbourne's 60–Yard Wonder Goal Lights Up the Riverside"
"American Prodigy Leads Boro to Five in a Row"
"Pep's Brother Spotted Scouting at Riverside"
Spanish outlets even ran it under:
"The Talent La Masia Missed — Shining in England"
Jake didn't dwell on it. After a day's rest, it was straight back to training. But when Mark Marrow called him into the office afterwards, he found a familiar face sitting on the sofa.
Jake froze for a second, then grinned.
"Pere Guardiola…?"
Pere Guardiola leaned back in his chair, scanning Jake Ashbourne with an assessing look.
"I've watched you play," Pere began, his tone direct. "And you don't belong stuck in a lower-tier league like this. You need a bigger stage."
Charlotte Reeves sat quietly beside Jake, listening as Pere explained his proposal. He wanted to sign Jake and become his agent. His reputation preceded him — well-connected, experienced, and known for getting his players into the right situations.
Jake trusted Charlotte's judgment, and she had already vetted Pere's background. The man knew people — coaches, scouts, sporting directors.
The two of them went over the contract. Jake flipped through the pages and found nothing unreasonable. Perrin would handle all transfers and take a 10% commission on them, plus 10% from endorsements and commercial deals. Wages and bonuses, however, were Jake's alone.
Compared to some agents who split earnings 50-50, this was almost generous.
Under Emma's witness, Jake signed.
"Jake," Pere said seriously, "your time at Middlesbrough might not be long. They're a solid club, but you need a platform that matches your potential — ideally one playing in Europe. Still, we have to be smart about it. We need a club that guarantees you playing time."
Jake nodded. "I want to finish the season here. That's non-negotiable."
"Fair enough," Pere replied. "I'll aim for next summer's transfer window. In the meantime, remember — your image rights must stay in your hands. Never sign those away."
Jake smiled faintly. This was professionalism. His job was to play; Pere's job was to clear the path.
That night, Pere moved fast. Middlesbrough's management got a call from him demanding a raise for Jake — the maximum salary in the squad. Talks got heated.
Coach Mark Marrow was well aware of Jake's contract situation. Although Jake still had two years left, his release clause meant any club willing to pay could take him without Middlesbrough's approval.
Marrow watched Jake train the next morning, a lump forming in his throat. Sixteen years old and already playing like a seasoned pro. Marrow had been planning to build next season's team around him for a Premier League push, but deep down he knew — if a bigger club came calling, Middlesbrough wouldn't be able to hold on.
In the end, they reached a new deal:
£20,000 per week salary
£5 million release clause
Jake's personal promise to stay until the end of the season
From £2,000 a week to £20,000 — in just a few games, Jake's value had exploded.
But there was no time to dwell. The Championship was relentless. With Tell sidelined by injury, Middlesbrough's attack still tore through opponents thanks to Jake's creativity.
Round 18 — Away vs Wigan Athletic: 4–1 win, Jake with a hat-trick of assists.
Round 19 — Home vs Blackburn Rovers: 5–0 demolition, Jake with another assist hat-trick.
Round 20 — Away vs Millwall: 5–1 thrashing, Middlesbrough unstoppable.
Eight consecutive league victories. Local media was buzzing. National outlets picked up the story.
"Middlesbrough Create the Championship's Biggest Miracle!"
"The League's Deadliest Duo: Ashbourne and Onajike!"
"Who Can Stop Middlesbrough?"
Just two months earlier, fans were praying for survival. Now they were dreaming of promotion. Jake led the league in assists; Onajike topped the scoring charts.
For Coach Marrow, it was a bittersweet joy. Success brought attention — and attention meant bigger clubs circling. And not just for Jake.