Rebuilding Rovers

Chapter Five: The Search for a Savior (and a Sponsor)

The day Harry Whitaker officially took charge of Brentwick Rovers was unlike anything I’d seen since I’d transmigrated into this chaotic reality. The club’s training ground, usually a depressing expanse of uninspired drills and half-hearted jogging, was buzzing with energy.

Fans gathered outside, chanting Harry’s name like he was a war hero returning from battle. Reporters swarmed the gates, desperate for a quote or a photo. Even the players seemed to straighten up, running faster and hitting passes with a precision I hadn’t seen before.

Inside the manager’s office, Harry was already hard at work, poring over scouting reports and footage of potential signings. His intensity was palpable, and for the first time, I felt like we had a real shot at turning this mess around.

But as we soon discovered, the optimism was short-lived.

“The Winter Window Problem”

“I’ve identified three players we need,” Harry said during our first strategy meeting. “A commanding center-back, a creative midfielder, and a proper striker who can actually find the net.”

“Sounds great,” I said, nodding. “Let’s get them.”

Harry shot me a look that could cut steel. “Do you know how much that will cost?”

“Ballpark it for me.”

“For quality players? At least five million, maybe more,” he said.

Jenna, who had joined us for the meeting, winced. “We don’t have five million. We barely have five hundred thousand.”

Harry sighed. “Then we’ll need to get creative. Either we sell some players or find another source of revenue. Otherwise, we’re stuck with this squad, and I’ll be honest—it’s not good enough to avoid relegation.”

Relegation. The word hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew enough about football to understand that dropping to the lower division would be catastrophic. Less TV money, fewer fans in the stands, and even more financial struggles.

“We’re not getting relegated,” I said firmly. “I’ll find the money. Just focus on the team.”

“Good luck,” Harry muttered. “You’ll need it.”

“The Sponsor Dilemma”

After the meeting, I locked myself in my office and started brainstorming ways to raise funds. The easiest solution would’ve been to sell one of our top players, but Harry had already vetoed that idea.

“I need every ounce of talent we’ve got,” he’d said. “We’re not selling our way out of this.”

That left one obvious avenue: sponsorships. The club’s main jersey sponsor had pulled out earlier in the season, citing “disappointing performances and lack of brand alignment,” which was corporate speak for “we’re embarrassed to be associated with you.”

Replacing them had proved impossible so far. Brentwick Rovers wasn’t exactly a hot commodity in the sponsorship market. Still, I wasn’t about to give up.

I grabbed a whiteboard and started listing potential industries that might be interested:

• Local businesses? Too small.

• Tech startups? Unreliable.

• Energy drinks? Maybe, but not ideal.

Then it hit me. We didn’t need just any sponsor. We needed a headline-grabbing sponsor. Someone so unexpected, so bold, that it would generate buzz on its own.

Jenna poked her head into the office as I was furiously scribbling ideas. “You look like you’re plotting world domination.”

“In a way, I am,” I replied. “We need a sponsor, and I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Let’s hear it.”

I tapped the whiteboard. “What if we partner with someone unconventional? A brand that wants to make a splash by associating themselves with the ultimate underdog story?”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Like who?”

“Think outside the box,” I said. “Streaming platforms, esports companies, trendy apps. What about a cryptocurrency exchange? Or a bold PR move—imagine ‘Brentwick Rovers, sponsored by… an anti-relegation insurance firm.’”

She gave me a skeptical look. “Crypto and insurance? Bit risky, don’t you think?”

“It’s not about the industry; it’s about the narrative,” I explained. “Brentwick Rovers is a club on the edge of disaster, but with the right partner, we can turn it into a redemption story. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that?”

Jenna thought for a moment. “Okay, I see where you’re going with this. But how do we sell it to potential sponsors when our track record is, uh… abysmal?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” I said, grinning. “We own the abysmal. We turn it into a story. ‘From rock bottom to redemption—be part of the rise of Brentwick Rovers.’”

“The Pitch”

The next day, I worked with Jenna to draft a pitch deck that highlighted the club’s history, its loyal fanbase, and the “once-in-a-lifetime” opportunity to be part of its comeback.

We started reaching out to companies, using every connection we could find. Most were polite but uninterested. A few laughed us off entirely. But just when I was about to give up, we got a response from an unexpected source: Steelcore Energy Drinks, a growing brand known for its edgy marketing campaigns.

Their CEO, an eccentric billionaire named Dane Simmons, was intrigued by the idea of sponsoring a struggling football club. “We love an underdog,” he said during our first call. “And if you guys can keep the chaos entertaining, we’ll back you.”

It wasn’t a done deal yet, but it was progress. For the first time, it felt like we had a fighting chance.

“Harry’s Approval”

Later that week, I met with Harry to give him an update.

“How’s the hunt for funds going?” he asked.

“We’ve got a potential sponsor,” I said. “It’s not finalized, but it’s promising. They’re willing to invest enough to cover the players you want.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Steelcore Energy Drinks? Sounds like a gimmick.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But it’s money. And it’s money we desperately need.”

He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. Just don’t let their logo ruin the jerseys. This club still has some dignity left.”

“Noted,” I said, smirking.

As I left his office, I felt a surge of optimism. The pieces were finally starting to fall into place. With Harry at the helm, a potential sponsor on the horizon, and the transfer window approaching, Brentwick Rovers might just have a shot at survival.

Of course, knowing my luck, something would probably go horribly wrong. But for now, I allowed myself to believe in the impossible: a comeback for the ages.