On a gloomy Thursday morning, Miguel woke up, ready for school. Since he was fourteen, he was in his second year of ESO—high school.
He got out of bed, his room covered in posters of his idols, and headed to school.
The day at school was actually more interesting than the average day, but Miguel wasn’t really the academic type. While the teachers talked about history or math, his mind remained elsewhere, totally focused on his football career. School just felt like a place he had to be until he could get back to the pitch.
After school ended, he rushed ho to eat a quick lunch and prepare for training day.
As he packed his bag, he started daydreaming like he always did. He dread of being a huge star, playing for Real Madrid in front of a screaming crowd. He imagined playing with elites like Vinícius Júnior and Rodrygo, just as Kylian Mbappé is now playing in Madrid after growing up watching Cristiano Ronaldo and is now finally on the sa stage.
Miguel thought back to the last match against Móstoles.
Even though they won 1-0 because of the penalty he earned, he had so doubts. Miguel hated how easily that big defender had overwheld him, making him deeply worried about his physical strength, and whether he’d cut it for U16, a tougher division.
But he shook his head and threw those thoughts out the window.
"Three points is three points," he muttered.
The Superliga was already tough on its own. All he wanted now was another win in the next away match against Rayo Vallecano.
By the ti Miguel got to the facility, it was afternoon, but the sun remained shy. It was a cold, grey day with a muted sky, shrouding what could have been a very vibrant day. But Miguel didn’t mind. The weather never decided his mood.
He also made sure he ca early, just like he always did. The boy had too much discipline for his own good.
Being punctual gave him extra ti to do so light jogging, stretching, and grab a hot chocolate from the vending machine. He even got to chat for a few minutes with Coach Nick and the Sporting Director about the next ga plan.
As the other boys began to arrive, the energy at the club’s base picked up. The coaches handed out a list of the day’s objectives on a piece of paper, along with small doses of glucose to give them a boost.
Phhhwwwwee! "C’mon, boys!"
Miguel never hesitated. As soon as the whistle blew, he joined his assigned group to begin rigorous shuttle runs. He still wanted to be the fastest, even if he wasn’t the strongest.
From across the field, Diego was lining up to get his training bibs from the equipnt shed, but his head was almost a 360 as he watched his new system host start his drills with a weird intensity.
Diego watched every move Miguel made, waiting for the system to start siphoning that incredible speed.
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"Miguel, my brother, don’t be so selfish! Pass that ball!" Maicon yelled out in quick, pleading Portuguese. After sprinting in circles, he was left huffing and puffing, his face red.
Miguel grinned. But instead of passing normally, he perford a quick roulette, making Maicon stumble like a clumsy toddler, before flicking the ball with the outside of his boot to the player on the left. Maicon chuckled, yet changed direction to keep up the chase. Once any part of his body except his hands touched the ball, he’d get to leave the center, and the person who lost the ball would take his place. A classic ga of Rondo.
The training field was a factory of action. The U14 youth team split itself into different groups for warm-ups, and the air was filled with the sound of boots thudding against leather and coaches blowing distant whistles.
Diego was stuck in a quieter group. They were doing basic step-over passes and static ball-control drills. Compared to the fun, high-energy chaos the bigger boys were having over there, it felt incredibly boring.
While Diego tried to focus on his own boring drill, a short, playful argunt broke out among Miguel’s group. Enrique, a short guy with a quiff, was the one chasing the ball. He had lunged to intercept a pass, and a roar of "YOU’RE OUT!" went up.
"What??"
"It grazed your arm!"
"Nah, it’s a lie! I didn’t feel nothing!" Enrique shouted, his face getting scrunchy.
Diego giggled from across the grass. It was a totally unnecessary scene, but it was hilarious. The boys gathered around Enrique, debating fiercely as if they were in a Supre Court trial. So of them were laughing their guts out at how serious Enrique was being about his honor. It was the kind of team chemistry Diego really wanted to be a part of!
While Diego was staring, one of the boys–a tall defender with a sharp jawline—noticed him ogling from the boring zone of the field. The boy squinted, then held up two beckoning fingers, waving Diego over.
Diego squinted back. His heart sorsaulted.
Pointing a finger at his own chest, his mouth opened. "?"
The tall boy, Justin, gave a firm nod.
Miguel and Maicon looked over, curious to see who was being invited.
’Damn, what do they want with ?’ Diego thought. ’Are they going to make fun of ? Or do they actually want to play?"
Diego didn’t want to look frightened, so he put on his best cool guy face and jogged over to where the half-dozen were gathered. As he got closer, the circle seed to grow bigger and more intimidating.
These were the starters—the guys who actually wore the jerseys on Saturdays while he sat in his neon bib!
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A/N: Thanks for reading!
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