"And you were telling me not to mess up," Valen said to Alex after he made the mistake leading to Team 2's equalizer. "Bench players talking like starters. Tch. I hate it."
On a normal day, Alex would have responded. He probably already had a response lined up, ready to spit out in that loud tone of his, throwing the blame back or saying something about Valen's injuries or about him being too quiet for someone who wanted to play football at a high level. But Alex did not feel like it. Valen was right, and Alex knew it. He let the team down, and there was no hiding from it.
The rest of the match passed without either team creating any real chances. Both teams looked cautious, like they were playing not to lose rather than to win. The defenders were careful, the midfielders were recycling the ball, and the attackers were making half-hearted runs that never really threatened anything. Everyone looked like they did not want to be the one who made a mistake.
The match ended in a draw. James stepped forward after the final whistle, calling both teams together near the sideline. He spoke for a few minutes, pointing out mistakes and praising the standout performers. He talked about pressing angles, about composure on the ball, about off the ball movement. It was clear he was paying attention to everything, even the small details most people ignored.
James did not say anything to Valen, but Valen did not mind. It would have been nice to hear something, but Valen knew he just had to work harder. He was not in a position to expect praise, not yet.
After James finished talking, he called two players forward, one from each team, to play rock paper scissors. Since the match ended in a draw, this was the fairest way to decide who would play the next match immediately. The losing team would have to play consecutive matches.
Team 1 won, so Team 2 would play against Team 3 next.
The players swapped bibs and took positions on the pitch. James and the assistant coaches made quick adjustments, giving a few tactical instructions before the whistle blew. Valen moved to the side, watching while drinking water from his bottle. He stretched his legs lightly to keep them from tightening up.
The match between Team 2 and Team 3 started and it quickly became clear that Team 2 was tired. Playing two matches back to back was not easy, especially with the level of intensity James demanded. Team 3 took advantage of that. They were sharp, moved the ball quickly, and pressed high whenever they lost it. They looked like a team that was ready to make a statement.
Team 3 scored the first goal around the fifteenth minute. A quick combination down the right, a cutback to the penalty spot, and a calm finish into the bottom corner. Team 2 tried to respond, but their legs were heavy and their minds looked tired. Team 3 kept pushing, and near the end of the match, they scored again. A corner was not cleared properly, and one of the Team 3 midfielders struck a volley that deflected past the keeper.
The match ended with a score of two goals to nil in favour of Team 3.
After a short rest, Team 3 played against Team 1. Valen was back on the pitch, ready to play again. He felt the soreness in his legs, but it was not the type of pain that made him worry. It was the type of pain that reminded him he was moving again, that he was pushing himself.
The match started, and both teams looked eager. Team 3 had the confidence from their previous win, and Team 1 wanted to finish the day strong. The midfield was busy, players pressing, tackling, and moving the ball around with purpose.
Valen stayed wide on the left, scanning the field, waiting for the right moment to make his move. Sam was playing just behind the striker, drifting into spaces, linking up play, and controlling the tempo.
Around the twentieth minute, Sam picked up the ball near the halfway line. He beat one man with a quick touch, drove forward, and slipped a pass into the channel. Valen had already started his run, timing it perfectly to beat the offside line. He took the ball in stride, carried it into the box, and struck it low into the bottom corner with his left foot.
The ball hit the net, and Valen felt a rush of satisfaction. It was a simple goal, but it meant a lot. It was proof that he could still do it, that he could still make a difference.
Ten minutes later, Sam doubled the lead. Team 1 won the ball high up the pitch, and Valen was involved again, playing a quick one-two with the left back before sending a low cross into the box. The defenders tried to clear it, but the ball fell to Sam near the penalty spot, and he fired it into the net.
Team 1 was two goals up and in control, but Alex almost ruined it. His habit of making strange decisions showed up again. First, he scored a clumsy own goal, trying to punch a cross that he could have caught, but instead the ball deflected off his glove into the net. Then, a few minutes later, he almost gave away another goal when he misjudged a back pass and nearly allowed the striker to intercept.
The defenders had to scramble to clear the danger, and James shouted from the sideline, telling Alex to focus. Alex looked rattled, but the team managed to hold on, and the match ended with a 2-1 score.
After the match, James gathered everyone in the center of the pitch. The players formed a circle around him, sitting on the grass, some stretching their legs, others leaning back on their hands.
"Alright everyone, I cannot say that I was not impressed with what I saw, but at the same time there were one or two of you that I felt could have played better than you did," James said, looking at some of the younger players who were called up from the U16. "It is obvious that some of you are not yet ready for this leap and will have to train with the younger age group for a little more."
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.
"Like I said, I am impressed with what I saw and I have a very good idea of who would start games and who would be on the bench. But my opinions can be changed if you work hard enough. Alright, that is enough for now. You may all leave."
Valen stood up and walked straight to the locker room after James dismissed everyone. Some of the players stayed behind, laughing and talking with their friends, replaying moments from the matches, arguing about fouls or missed chances. Valen did not have anyone to talk to. He was not exactly popular in the team, and that was fine with him. He came to play football, not to make friends.
He entered the locker room and started taking off his boots, untying the laces slowly to avoid pulling too hard on his sore ankles. The room smelled like sweat and grass, with the sound of showers running in the background and the clatter of studs against the tiles.
"Hey man, you played really well."
Valen turned around, surprised by the voice. It was Sam, sitting on one of the benches, already out of his boots, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"Yeah. Thanks." Valen nodded, placing his boots neatly beside his bag. "You did good too. Not just good, you were the best player on the team."
Sam nodded at the compliment, a small smile on his face. The two of them talked for a while, discussing moments from the matches, laughing at some of Alex's mistakes, and going over the goals they scored. Sam mentioned how the midfield felt easy to control when Valen made the right runs, pulling defenders away and creating space.
After a while, Valen checked the time on his phone.
"I should get going before my mom starts worrying," he said, standing up to grab his bag. "One would think I would have a bit of freedom at seventeen."
Sam laughed, nodding. He told Valen that he was staying at the club's accommodation, so nobody really cared where he went, as long as he returned before the curfew. But even then, Sam admitted he did not really know many places around yet since he just moved from Nigeria. There was nowhere for him to go, so he would just stay around the club, maybe go to the gym or watch some videos.
Valen told him that he would see him tomorrow, and Sam gave him a fist bump before Valen left the locker room.
The walk home was quiet. Valen listened to music through his earphones, replaying moments from the matches in his mind, going over the goal he scored and the assist he provided. He thought about James's words, about the way Sam encouraged him, and about how his body felt on the pitch.
When Valen got home, he was surprised to see his mother waiting for him in the living room. She was seated on the couch, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other, her leg resting on a stool as she flipped through the pages.
"How was training?" she asked without looking up from the newspaper. Even though she asked, she already knew the types of answers she was used to getting. Valen would either not answer, blame the coach for favouring other players, go on a long rant about unfairness, or just say "fine." Ever since his second ACL injury, he never gave any other type of answer.
Back then, when he got that second injury, she tried to convince him to quit football. It broke her to see him so broken. But Valen was determined, and she knew she could not stop him, no matter how much she worried.
"It was good. Very good." Valen answered with a smile.
Stella, his mother, lowered the newspaper and turned to look at him. "Training was very good. Are you sure?"
"Yeah." Valen said, letting out a small laugh. He knew why she was surprised.
"You reckon you will start?"
"I do not know." Valen replied, dropping his bag near the staircase. "But I think I should make it to the bench this time."
There was a bit of excitement in his voice, and it was clear on his face. Valen had not gotten any playing time in two years. Three, if you counted the year he spent regressing after his first injury. For him, making the bench was a big step, and after what he showed in training, he felt like he at least deserved that much. It was enough to get him excited.
"Well that is good." Stella smiled, looking at him properly now. "Dinner is in the fridge. Microwave it after you take a shower, alright?"
Valen nodded and turned to head toward the kitchen.
"After a shower." Stella repeated, narrowing her eyes at him.
Valen raised his hands in mock surrender before walking toward his room.
While he was walking to his room, his mind kept replaying the training matches. He did well, got a goal and an assist, showed what he could do when he was confident and moving freely. Even if his reputation was not the best, his performance today had to convince someone.
Valen entered his room and started taking off his clothes.
Even if he could not convince the coach today, there was still tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.
No matter what, he would nail a spot down in the starting lineup.