Football singularity

Chapter 772 Martine Rose

If you’re enjoying the story, consider voting to show your support. Feel free to join me on Discord to chat and share your thoughts: https://discord.gg/hTQJtj2K9U.

#More than 10 Chapters ahead on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/TrikoRex. If you have a moment, leaving a review would mean a lot to me and help me see who’s interested in the story’s future.

~~~

[2021-05-23 | Jackson, Baker & Partners, Shoreditch, London | 10:30 BST]

The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the conference room, casting geometric shadows across the polished mahogany table. Oluwaseun Eze, called Olu by his colleagues and friends, sat at the head of the table, his navy Tom Ford suit pressed to perfection, a silver tie bar catching the light as he adjusted his position. His neatly cut afro was freshly shaped, edges sharp, and the Cartier watch on his wrist a graduation gift to himself a year ago gleamed as he flipped through the brief on his tablet.

Jackson, Baker & Partners occupied the eighth floor of a converted warehouse in Shoreditch, all exposed brick and modern minimalism. The firm specialised in comprehensive marketing campaigns that bridged fashion, music, and culture, a crossover work that Oluwaseun had been doing part-time during his six years of University.

At twenty-five, he was one of the youngest Senior Visual Directors the firm had ever hired. His portfolio spoke for itself, though: cinematic music videos that had racked up millions of views, fashion magazine shoots that had set sales records for online brands, and built his own distinct visual language that clients specifically requested by name.

Still in his first year at the firm, he had yet to land his flagship project that would cement his name in the company. He could use COVID as an excuse for his above-average performance, but he knew that wasn’t enough to justify his £125K-a-year salary. That’s why he was excited about finally landing this meeting he had spent half a year chasing.

Across from him sat two representatives from Martine Rose, the British menswear designer whose deconstructed tailoring and working-class nostalgia had made her one of the most talked-about names in London fashion. Her brand was preparing for London Fashion Week in September, and they wanted Jackson, Baker & Partners to helm the campaign. No, they wanted Oluwaseun Eze, the name that had been making waves in their industry.

"Thank you for meeting with us on short notice," said the first rep, Claire Dobson, a woman in her early forties. She was Martine Rose’s brand director, dressed in an oversized pinstripe blazer and wide-leg trousers, very on-brand. "We’re on a tight timeline for Fashion Week, and your work came highly recommended."

"We appreciate the opportunity," Oluwaseun said smoothly, his London corporate accent polished from years of code-switching between his Nigerian roots and British professional spaces. "I’ve been following Martine Rose’s collections for years. The SS21 show was brilliant, especially the collaboration with Nike."

Claire smiled, pleased. "That’s exactly the energy we want to capture this season. But more impactful."

The second rep, a younger man named Marcus Okafor, who handled talent relations, leaned forward. "We’re thinking beyond traditional fashion campaign. We want cultural crossover. Music, sport, street culture, all feeding into the narrative."

Oluwaseun nodded, already visualising concepts. "What’s the budget range we’re working with?"

"£450,000 to £600,000," Claire said. "Depending on talent costs."

Oluwaseun’s eyebrows rose slightly. That was serious money in the upper-tier for a London Fashion Week campaign. "And talent? Do you have anyone specific in mind?"

Claire and Marcus exchanged a glance. Marcus pulled out his phone, scrolling briefly before turning it to face Oluwaseun. The screen showed a photo of Rakim Rex, mid-celebration, Leverkusen shirt soaked with champagne, the Bundesliga shield held high above his head. The timestamp read May 22, 2021—yesterday.

"We want him," Marcus said. "He is the perfect crossover between sports, urban culture, and mainstream media given his rising fame."

Oluwaseun’s hand paused halfway to his coffee cup. He stared at the image on the phone, his expression carefully neutral even as something uncomfortable shifted in his chest—Rakim Rex, 17, Bundesliga champion, DFB-Pokal winner, and Champions League finalist. The hottest name in world football right now, and it wasn’t even close.

And every time Oluwaseun saw his face—on billboards, on Sky Sports, trending on Twitter, there was this... feeling. Like looking at someone through fogged glasses, vaguely resembling someone he had long since forgotten. He’d chalked it up to a coincidence, considering that Rakim was American/German, raised in Orlando, and came from money if the reports were accurate.

Meanwhile, Oluwaseun’s past was a world away: Lagos poverty and the Niger Delta conflict, which forced him to flee to London with his family when he was twelve. Two completely different lives with no point of intersection, so why did looking at that face make his stomach tighten?

"Rakim Rex," Oluwaseun said, keeping his voice professional. He set down his coffee cup, buying himself a moment. "Bold choice."

"He’s perfect for the brand," Claire said, leaning forward with enthusiasm. "Young, dynamic, breaking barriers. He just became the youngest Bundesliga top scorer in history—41 goals in one season. And he’s got this effortless style off the pitch, have you seen his Instagram numbers?"

"I’ve seen it," Oluwaseun confirmed. He had, actually, everyone in the creative industry had been watching Rakim’s rise. The kid was a marketing dream, proven across various campaigns with different brands: elite talent, good looks, a genuine personality, and a knack for keeping his following engaged.

"We want to capture him before he gets too big," Marcus added. "Right now, he’s on the edge—about to explode into mainstream consciousness if Leverkusen wins the Champions League final. Getting him now, before he signs a big sponsorship deal, would be a major statement."

"And if they don’t win?" Oluwaseun asked.

"He’s still a seventeen-year-old who just won a domestic double and scored 65 goals across all competitions," Claire countered. "The narrative doesn’t change that much." They had a fair point, and he knew it as he studied his photo again.

"His fee will be astronomical even right now," Oluwaseun said, pivoting to practical concerns. "Especially with the World Cup next year and the Euros this summer. Every brand in the world that can vaguely associate with him will be trying to lock him down before the tournament."

"We’re aware," Claire said. "We’ve allocated up to £200,000 for his fee alone. Is that realistic?"

Oluwaseun considered it. "For a full campaign shoot, exclusive usage rights, and social media deliverables? Maybe. But you’re competing with Adidas, and Sainclare is his suit sponsor, which is set to expire, but given that they are also set to participate in the fashion week, the chances of renewal are high."

"Exactly why we need to move fast," Marcus pressed. "Before he’s oversaturated. We want him while he’s still selective about partnerships."

"And you think Martine Rose is selective enough to interest him?" Oluwaseun asked, not unkindly.

"We think he’s smart enough to recognise that high fashion credibility is different from sportswear endorsements," Claire replied. "Martine Rose isn’t trying to put him in boots or training kits. We’re offering cultural legitimacy in a space he hasn’t entered yet."

Oluwaseun nodded slowly. Rakim hadn’t done any high fashion campaigns yet; his endorsements were all performance-based. Apex boots and Sainclaire suits just used him as a walking billboard. Martine Rose would be a real step into the centre of the industry, a signal that he was more than just an athlete if they could land him.

"I can’t promise Rakim will jump on board but what I can promise you I wll do my best to bring Martine Rose’s visssion to life." He finally said, sitting back in his chair, knowing that he needed to sell himself instead of leaning on the off chance of signing an athlete. "I’ll need creative freedom,"

The two paused for a moment, sharing a look, before Clair spoke up. "That’s why we want you leading this," Claire said, her expression earnest. Your visual language, the way you shoot music videos—that’s what we want for this campaign. Rakim is our ideal face for this, but we want your visual eye to present the essence of the new line to the world."

Oluwaseun felt the weight of that statement settle over the table. This was the flagship project he’d been chasing since joining the firm. High-budget, high-profile, with a brand that actually understood creative vision rather than just wanting pretty pictures to boost numbers.

"I’m in," Oluwaseun said, extending his hand across the table. "Let’s make this campaign something people remember."

Claire shook his hand firmly, Marcus following suit. "We’ll have contracts ready by the end of the week. First creative meeting is scheduled for June 2."

"I’ll have initial concepts ready," Oluwaseun confirmed.

As they stood to leave, Marcus paused at the door. "And Rakim Rex?"

"I’ll reach out through the proper channels," Oluwaseun said. "No promises, but I’ll make the pitch."

The door closed behind them, leaving Oluwaseun alone in the conference room, staring at the image of Rakim Rex still displayed on his tablet. This was his shot.

.

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED...