Twenty was better year for him than 18 had been. Sure, he'd come back from the US Camp to be unceremoniously traded to PSG for far more money than he'd thought he was worth. But Chelsea sure as hell were going to say no to 35 million in transfer fees, and he was at least going to country he shared a language with. And, honestly, PSG had been good for him. Pressure was off, so to speak, and he'd started to blossom in his role. Hell, they'd even had a decent run at the Champions League, before an untimely injury had them swapping out their best keeper.

Also, he sort of liked Paris.

He turned though, when he felt a tap on his shoulder and smiled at Carlos Sanchez. "Well, well...The- what is it they call you again? Die Mauer, die Große Mauer?" He asked, laughing a little as he held up his hand and pulled Carlos into a hug. "How've you been, man? Saw that final....rough break, but damn- you played well."

Gael always figured Carlos was going to play well, and was largely grateful he wasn't trying to sneak balls into the back of the net around him. It helped his rise to 'best of the best' in France a lot easier. His goal average was much better now than it had been at Chelsea. He averaged 1.6 goals a game, and his passing accuracy was 94%.

"You know what car we are waiting for?" He asked, smiling easily.