The cab ride over to the training facility, Copley Green, is short. It’s only two miles away from Ashdown Park, but long enough that it gives me a moment to breathe.
Luke leans back in his seat. “So,” he says, watching me, “how do you feel so far?”
I let out a sigh, not meeting his eyes. “Well, I’m tired.”
“Not what I meant, Addison.”
I stare out the window as North London unfolds outside.
“I think it’ll be fine,” I say eventually. “Besides, it’s only a year.”
“And what happens if you actuallylikeit here?”
I look over at him and huff out a small laugh. “I won’t.”
Luke raises a brow, but doesn’t argue with me. The cab turns into the facility’s parking lot, and we step out into the crisp air again.
“Well, this is Copley Green,” he says, pointing toward the large, sleek facility with Rockford FC’s crest displayed over the main entrance. He leads me straight through the lobby, bypassing the security checks. “Morning, Jenna,” he says, tipping his head at the receptionist. “This is our new PR, Addison Scott. I’ll get her sorted with an access card later.”
“Nice to meet you,” I tell her. She smiles and nods, and I continue to follow Luke, my nerves fluttering.
“We’ll go up and meet Agnelli first,” he says, pushing a button for the elevator. “Might as well meet the big boss straight away.”
I nod and follow him into the elevator. It takes us upstairs to an office overlooking the outdoor training facility. Inside, Alan Agnelli stands near the window, looking out at the pitch. He’s in his mid-fifties with neatly styled salt and pepper hair. His suit is perfectly tailored, but not in a showy way.
Luke knocks at the open door, and Alan immediately turns around. The moment he smiles, I know he’s different from most sports moguls. His smile is genuine, and it seems to brighten the entire office.
“Addison,” he says warmly, crossing the room to shake my hand. “Welcome. Welcome to Rockford FC. We’re so pleased to have you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Agnelli, I’m—”
“Alan, please.” He smiles, gesturing toward the chairs opposite his desk. “Please sit down. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.”
Luke excuses himself and heads down to training, promising he’ll find me after.
“I really appreciate that, Alan.” I listen carefully as he lays out his history with the club, from saving them from the brink of liquidation to now being on the cusp of promotion. It’s a true Cinderella story—a PR dream, honestly. But hearing him talk about it, it’s so clear he’s not the type of owner to simply throw money at the team and walk away. He’s invested. The enthusiasm in his voice makes it clear—he’s a fan first, owner second. That alone sets him apart from any sports franchise I’ve ever worked with.
Most teams are owned by some faceless conglomerate or billionaires looking for something shiny to add to their cabinet. They don’t understand the sport. They don’t even care. But this? This feels personal.A passion-driven, family-oriented ownership is a perfect PR angle. I couldn’t write this up any better if I tried.
“We’re just so excited to have you, Addison,” he says, clasping his hands together. “The club is growing fast, and I really think you can help shape our story.”
“I’m excited to get started,” I tell him. “Do you have any expectations of me?”
He smiles. “Stability. This club and this community have been through a lot over the last decade. We’re growing fast, and with that attention comes pressure. I need you to handle that with grace, and with teeth when necessary.”
I smirk. “Grace and teeth. I can do that.”
“Ah! There you are!” Alan calls out, looking beyond me. A moment later, two gentlemen step inside the office wearing matching Rockford FC tracksuits. “This is Jim Potter, our manager,” Alan says, gesturing toward the taller of the two gentlemen.
Jim is all energy—he bounces forward with an easy, confident grin, offering me the firmest handshake I’ve ever felt. Strong, but genuine. “Addison!” he exclaims. “Great to have you with us.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Potter. I’m looking f—”
“Jim, please.” He smiles at me.
“Jim,” I repeat. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“This,” he says, gesturing to the man next to him, “is my assistant manager, Stan Frederickson.”
