[Two Weeks Later]
@TheChampionshipHub
Since Adam Wharton and Ian Maatsen joined Reading:
4 wins
0 losses
18 goals scored
3 conceded
Rafael Moretti's side are officially the scariest team in the Championship.
#ReadingFC
@FootyLad14
reading are playing like prime ajax 2019 and no one's talking about it
rafael moretti's a genius fr
@RoyalTalks
Maatsen x Savio link-up might actually be illegal.
Wharton running the show.
Moretti cooking something SPECIAL.
@TotalFootballDaily
Adam Wharton looks like he's been playing for Reading his whole life. Calm, composed, complete.
@EFLZone
The Savio-Maatsen left side is just pure carnage. 18 goals scored since they linked up. Who's stopping them? No one.
@LFCTransferRoom
Savio would start for Liverpool tomorrow.
Maatsen too.
Wharton lowkey would get minutes too.
Moretti's project is unreal.
@BarcaUpdates
Reading play like early Guardiola Barça.
Fluidity. Freedom. Fearless.
Moretti's fingerprints are all over it.
@BurnleyFanPage
letting reading take maatsen was our biggest mistake and now they're making us look like dinosaurs ffs.
@FootyMemes
reading fans watching savio, wharton and maatsen cook every weekend:
"WE'RE WINNING THE PREMIER LEAGUE"
Insert meme of guy celebrating too early
@NeutralFan101
Reading are inevitable at this point.
Top 6 is not even ambitious anymore — it's expected.
@FootyBanter77
damn this reading side would beat current chelsea.
….
It had been two weeks since the arrivals of Adam Wharton and Ian Maatsen, and Reading were soaring. With every game, they grew stronger, more confident in their fluid style of play. Four wins, no losses. Eighteen goals scored. Three conceded. It was hard not to feel a sense of pride in the way things were going, but Rafael knew better than to get too comfortable. There was still a job to do.
The atmosphere around the team was electrifying, but Rafael couldn't shake the nagging thought that something was still missing. The defensive line, while solid, wasn't quite where it needed to be. Sam McIntyre had been a revelation, but Oumar Sarr was starting to show cracks in his game, a few missteps that were hard to ignore. They needed someone to shore up that backline, especially as the season's intensity picked up.
Rafael's eyes scanned his team's recent performances, his thoughts drifting. In an ideal world, he'd have a world-class centre-back, someone who could read the game like a book and offer that extra layer of security. But the transfer window was closing fast, and he was running out of time.
"Two days," he muttered to himself, his fingers tapping against the edge of the desk as he stared at the clock on the wall. Time was slipping through his fingers.
He didn't want to make another signing. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. The squad was shaping up well — too well to disrupt with another potential change. But then his thoughts shifted. He remembered the youth team, a space where talent had been flourishing, and one particular name stood out. Fontana.
The 17-year-old centre-back had been impressing everyone at the academy. Standing at 6'5", he had the physique, but it wasn't just that. What had really caught Rafael's attention was his composure. For someone so young, so raw, he played like someone with far more experience. Calm, measured, reading the game with the kind of maturity you didn't see often at that age. His potential was undeniable.
Rafael leaned back in his chair, his hands folding over his chest as he thought it through. The club had already made some major moves with Wharton and Maatsen — but this was different. Fontana was a gamble. The kind of risk that could either pay off big or blow up in his face.
Still, the idea of promoting him to the first team was tempting. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was ready for the challenge.
His mind raced through the possibilities, the decisions he'd made so far. Bringing through youth talent had always been part of his philosophy. There was something incredibly rewarding about giving a young player the chance to prove themselves on the biggest stage. Fontana had the tools, but was he ready for the Premier League? That was the real question.
As Rafael sat there, contemplating his next move, his phone buzzed. A message from Dempsey. It was brief, but it hit right where he needed to focus.
"How's the centre-back situation looking? We need to make sure we're strong all over the pitch."
Rafael thought about Fontana again. He was the kind of player who might just surprise everyone. But the leap from youth to first team wasn't always easy, no matter how well he'd been performing in training.
Just as Rafael was about to respond to Dempsey's message, a soft knock on the door interrupted him. He looked up to see Fontana standing in the doorway, his tall frame awkwardly filling the space.
"Luca," Rafael called, a smile tugging at his lips. He stood up, waving the young player in. "Come in, come in."
Fontana stepped forward hesitantly, his eyes flickering around the office before settling on Rafael.
"You called for me Coach?" Fontana asked, his voice still carrying that youthful edge.
"Of course," Rafael said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. "Take a seat."
As Fontana sat down, Rafael couldn't help but notice the nervous energy radiating from him. It was natural, given the circumstances. Fontana wasn't here to talk about a transfer or a loan; he was here because Rafael had been watching him closely. And the conversation they were about to have could change his life.
"You've been doing well with the U21s," Rafael began, choosing his words carefully. "Really well. Your development has been impressive."
Fontana's gaze softened with relief, but he didn't say anything.
Rafael leaned back in his chair, studying him for a moment. "I'm considering a big step for you. It's a big opportunity. I'm thinking about promoting you to the first team."
Fontana's eyes widened slightly, though he kept his cool. "You mean… now? You want me to play in the first team?"
Rafael nodded slowly, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. "We need some reinforcements at the back. You've got the physicality, the composure. You've been impressing in training. So yeah, I'm seriously considering it."
For a moment, Fontana didn't speak. Then, slowly, he nodded, his gaze firm. "I'm ready, Coach. I'll do whatever it takes."
Rafael smiled. "Good. I knew you'd say that. Keep working hard, and we'll see where it goes. But remember — this is a big step. It's not going to be easy."
Fontana nodded again, his expression unwavering. "I'm ready."
As the young player stood to leave, Rafael sat back in his chair, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling inside him. This could be the start of something great. Or it could be a decision he'd come to regret.
But in that moment, one thing was certain: Rafael was going to give Fontana a shot. And with that, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride — giving a young player an opportunity to prove himself was exactly what he believed in.
And as the door closed behind Fontana, Rafael's mind already moved on to the next challenge. The season was only getting started. And with these new pieces in place, Reading were about to make a real push for something special.
For now though, he had a press conference to do.
….
Rafael walks into the press room, feeling a mix of pride and focus. The nine-game unbeaten run, which has seen Reading surge up the table, is a testament to the hard work his team has put in. However, with Luton coming up tomorrow, the challenge is far from over. The atmosphere in the room is charged with anticipation — there's a sense that something bigger is on the horizon for Reading, something they're capable of, but only if they continue to push.
Rafael sits down, glancing around at the cameras and reporters in front of him. His calm demeanor gives nothing away, but inside, he's fully aware of the weight of this moment. A successful run has put them in 12th, with 47 points, a mere 13 away from 6th place — and 6th place is still within reach, especially if they can continue their run of form.
The first question comes almost immediately.
"Rafa, after a remarkable run of 9 unbeaten games, how do you feel about the team's progress? You've gained more points in those 9 matches (25) than the previous manager did in 22 games (22). Is this a turning point for Reading?"
Rafael takes a moment to gather his thoughts. It's been a whirlwind few weeks, and though the results have been satisfying, he knows this is just the beginning. "It's been a solid run, absolutely," he begins, his voice steady and measured. "But we haven't achieved anything yet. What we've done is lay the foundation for the kind of football we want to play. The players have responded well to the changes, and they've bought into the philosophy. But we're not about to rest on our laurels. It's easy to get distracted by good results, but I keep telling the team: the real work starts now."
There's a brief pause as the reporters scribble down notes, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
"And now, sitting in 12th with 47 points, you've managed to turn things around dramatically. With just 13 points between you and 6th place, do you feel like you're in a position to push for a top-six finish this season?"
Rafael's smile is subtle, but there's a glint of determination in his eyes. "Of course, we're always aiming higher. There's no reason to stop pushing. We've shown in these last few games that we can compete with anyone. The squad has a lot of potential, and if we continue to play with confidence and fluidity, we'll put ourselves in the conversation for those top spots. Luton will be a tough test, make no mistake about it. They're in third, 69 points, and we know it's going to be a battle. But we're not here to be complacent. We'll take them on just like we've taken on everyone else."
The room feels charged as the next question comes, more focused on tomorrow's game against Luton.
"And with Luton's form this season, sitting comfortably in third, how do you plan to approach the game tomorrow? Are you planning to go all out?"
Rafael's expression becomes more serious. "We respect Luton's quality. They've earned their place, and they've played excellent football. But we've shown we can play against the best — it's not about outdoing them individually, it's about outplaying them as a team. We'll keep doing what we've been doing. Play our football, move the ball quickly, and be relentless in our pressing. The players have shown they can step up when it matters, and I have no doubt they'll do that again tomorrow."
The questions continue, but there's a noticeable shift in the atmosphere as one reporter asks about Paul Heckingbottom, Sheffield United's manager, who had made some pointed comments about Rafael's work at Reading.
"Rafael, recently Sheffield United's manager Paul Heckingbottom commented on your work here. What do you make of his words?"
At the mention of Heckingbottom's name, Rafael's lips curl into a small but amused smile. He leans forward slightly, eyes glinting with both amusement and focus. "Ah, yes. I saw his comments. He's an interesting character, isn't he?" he says with a knowing glance. "Listen, every manager has their own approach. We all have opinions, but I don't get distracted by what others say. I focus on my team and our goals. If Sheffield want to talk, that's fine — we'll do our talking on the pitch. I'm sure Sheffield are doing well, but we face them on the last day of the season, right? It'll be interesting for sure."
The room erupts in a mixture of chuckles and murmurs. The comment has the desired effect — it shifts the focus back to Reading, and the way Rafael has transformed the team in such a short time. His composure, both on and off the pitch, is unwavering. He leans back slightly in his chair, a quiet confidence in his response.
"Right now, though," he continues, his tone calm, "I'm focused on Luton. They're the team in front of us. Tomorrow is all that matters."
The next question is more light-hearted. A reporter asks, "With your recent success, are you thinking ahead to next season? What can Reading fans expect from you and your team?"
Rafael's eyes narrow slightly as he thinks about the bigger picture. "We are thinking long-term. The goal is to build a team that's strong for years to come. We're not looking to just make a push for the top this season, we're laying the groundwork for something sustainable. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tomorrow's game is the priority. Everything else comes after."
With that, the press conference draws to a close, the journalists continuing to buzz with questions. Rafael stands, offering a small nod to the room. "Thank you, everyone. See you tomorrow."
As he leaves the room, the noise of the press murmurs behind him. The focus now shifts to Luton, but with every passing day, Reading is beginning to feel like a side that can take on anything.
…
The Madejski Stadium was alive with energy, the kind of atmosphere that only a rejuvenated team could generate. Reading, under Rafael Moretti's guidance, were no longer the struggling side they had been at the start of the season. The fans could feel it—a new wave of hope and excitement coursing through the club. Today, they would take on Luton Town, who sat in third place, and Reading were ready to show just how far they'd come.
Moretti set the team up in his preferred 4-2-3-1 formation. Lumley was in goal, and in front of him, the defense consisted of Yiadom, McIntyre, Sarr, and Maatsen. In the middle, Wharton and Loum provided the defensive shield, while Casadei played in the advanced midfield role as the 10. Ince and Savio occupied the right and left flanks, respectively, with João leading the line up top. It was a well-balanced side, designed to both defend solidly and attack fluidly.
The game kicked off with Reading immediately setting the tempo. Ince and Savio wasted no time in linking up, their chemistry evident from the start. It was Ince who broke the deadlock in the 7th minute, after a clever exchange with Savio. A quick give-and-go on the left wing saw Savio play a perfectly timed pass into Ince's path. Ince finished with ease, calmly placing the ball into the back of the net as the home fans erupted in celebration.
Luton, who had been expected to dominate the game with their higher league position, found themselves on the back foot. Reading pressed high and fast, not allowing Luton any time on the ball. The fluidity of Reading's game was clear, their quick passes and off-the-ball movement constantly pulling Luton out of shape. With Wharton and Loum controlling the center of the park, Luton struggled to break through.
As half-time approached, Reading's dominance was starting to show. Casadei made a daring run through the middle, cutting through Luton's defense before being fouled just outside the box. The referee awarded a free-kick in a dangerous position, and the crowd held its breath as Savio stood over the ball. He struck it with precision, curling the ball over the wall and into the top corner. The stadium roared as Savio raised his arms in celebration—2-0 to Reading.
After the break, Luton came out with more intent, but Reading's defense remained firm. In the 58th minute, Wharton made a brilliant through-ball pass to Ince, who raced down the right flank, showing off his speed. He looked up and saw Savio making his run into the box, but instead of passing to him, Ince whipped a cross to the far post. Maatsen, arriving late, met the ball with a perfect volley, sending it crashing into the net. The stadium exploded again as the fans celebrated the stunning strike. 3-0 to Reading.
Luton tried to mount a comeback, but Reading's structure was too tight. The fluidity that Moretti had instilled in the team allowed them to dominate possession, controlling the game with ease. The midfield, led by Wharton's calm composure and Loum's dynamism, stifled anything Luton tried to create. And in defense, McIntyre and Sarr stood tall, keeping Luton's attacks at bay.
As the final whistle blew, the Madejski Stadium was alive with cheers. The 3-0 scoreline was a perfect reflection of Reading's superiority on the day. They had shown that they were no longer just a team fighting to stay afloat—they were a side capable of dominating the top sides in the league, and with Moretti at the helm, their ambitions were sky-high.
….
Up in the stands, tucked away from the booming Reading fans, two sharply dressed men watched the match with an intensity that didn't waver. Their conversation was low, almost lost beneath the noise of the stadium — but their focus never strayed from the touchline.
One of them leaned in, eyes narrowing slightly.
"This kid's a genius," he muttered, the awe barely hidden in his voice.
"Moretti," the other replied, following his gaze to the slim, sharp-eyed figure on the sideline — arms crossed, shouting tactical tweaks, reading the flow of the game like a veteran chessmaster.
"Nineteen years old… nineteen," the first man repeated, shaking his head almost in disbelief.
"I think he could save us."
The second man didn't hesitate. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and straightened up.
"Then let's send him an offer," he said. His voice was decisive — no more time to waste.
Both men stood, sharing a brief look — a silent agreement. Valencia was drowning back in Spain: unstable, lost, crying out for leadership. They needed vision. They needed nerve. They needed exactly what they were seeing now in this teenager, commanding his players against one of the toughest teams in the league.
As they disappeared into the crowd, one of them muttered almost to himself:
"Before the rest of Europe wakes up."