I like the idea of a Brunorphanage, in which young and lonesome talents from around the Spanish-speaking world live in his large, slightly eerie, mansion, being fed and bettered as a person/footballer.
Failing that, and painfully similar, mutant footballers who find refuge and purpose in the vast manor of Professor Xaltor, learning to fight fiends such as Zahagneto.
Replicated across most clubs I'd imagine. In South London for example, there is a small, muddy field - surrounded by fly-tipping debris and infested by stray dogs if you can picture the scene - where there are a few mildew-covered caravans on bricks with the odd broken window. A fat, greasy-haired hag in a housecoat with a roll-up drooping from the corner of her mouth can be heard at 8am every morning bellowing 'Oi you facking Eagle Academy lot, get yer breakfast and fack off to training, I've got to get to the Bingo'.