(The next training session)
The coaches stood back, quietly watching as the players ran their passing drills. One of the assistant coaches flipped through a stack of papers, stopping at Che's profile. He stepped closer to the other two, joining them without saying anything at first.
"I just finished going through the medical tests," he finally said. "Che's progress is actually crazy for someone who's only been here a few weeks."
"Yeah, and his tactical awareness is getting sharper too. He's clearly improving in training."
"Think he's ready to start?"
"Not quite. He's still a bit raw, but for sure—he'll get more minutes."
"Hmm, I don't know. He looks ready to me. I'd start him in at least one game."
"Nah, too soon. We start him now, he might get too hyped and the pressure could mess with him. Better to ease him in and get him used to the rhythm."
"Alright, fair enough."
"Besides, Felix is slowly getting back into form. We're lucky to have someone like Che step up and take over when needed."
Meanwhile, training was going smoothly for Che. He was focused, but a flash of his first ever session and the trip to the medical room crept into his head. He missed a pass.
"Louw! Focus!"
"Sorry, captain."
…
The day's session was way more intense than what Che was used to. He was still adjusting, but overall, it went well. After the drills, the whole squad headed to the evaluation room, where the coaches broke down their last game.
…
Later that day, the coaching staff had their weekly meeting with the senior team's coach, mostly focused on tracking progress and identifying players ready to move up.
The spotlight this time? Bence Tóth. The 18-year-old Hungarian centre-back who'd just joined this season, and was already on the senior coach's radar.
There was a strong push to have him train with the first team for the rest of the season—and maybe even join them full-time during pre-season.
What made him stand out? His defensive IQ and ball-playing skills. Basically, your prototype modern-day defender. Some even said his passing was as good as a midfielder's.
…
Meanwhile, Che, Felix, and Leon were chilling at their table, snacking and arguing—as usual.
"Snickers."
"Nah. Twix is better."
They went back and forth for nearly 30 minutes. Flavor. Popularity. Texture. It became a full-on chocolate debate.
"You guys like arguing, don't you?" Felix finally said, watching the chaos unfold.
"Yeah, you lot are always fighting," Speidel chimed in from across the table.
They both turned to face him.
"I'm not fighting. He's just too dumb to get what's actually good."
"Says the guy with no taste."
And off they went again—this time arguing over who was more stupid.
"Really? Again?"
"Are they even friends or just rivals at this point?"
"Beats me, bro."
The bickering carried on all the way to the car. Then they started arguing about football. Loud enough that the driver rolled his eyes halfway through the trip.
At Leon's place, he kept talking until the driver had to clear his throat just to remind him they'd arrived. Even stepping out of the car, the argument kept going.
The driver just shook his head and drove Che home.
As soon as Che got out, his phone started buzzing. It was Amelie.
"Amelie—hey! What's up? Everything okay?"
"Yeah, just checking in on you."
"Why?"
"Ah, sorry. I probably shouldn't have called—"
"No, no. I'm glad you did! Just didn't expect it, that's all."
She chuckled. "It's just… I barely see you at school now. And you don't text anymore."
"Sorry about that. Football's been taking up all my time lately."
"Yeah… my brother told me I shouldn't talk to you too much. Said I'd distract you."
He was walking into his building as they talked.
"You wouldn't be a distraction. Honestly, I'd like it if you called more often. Just to hear your voice."
"Yeah? Then you better call me sometimes too."
"I will… I promise."
"Bye."
"Bye. I'll text you later."
He walked into the apartment. His mom was at the stove.
"Oooouuu, who was that?"
"No one."
"Oh really? 'No one' who you're texting later?"
"Mom. I have friends, okay? Let me live."
"Alright, alright! Don't roast me, jeez."