It's Monday morning, and the U18 squad waits outside the coach's office, summoned through the group chat.
'Damn, we've been here for 15 minutes. Where's Coach?'
As more players arrive, they exchange puzzled looks.
'Where is he?'
They shrug. Time passes, and worry begins to set in as school is about to start.
'What if this is his way of telling us he's retiring?'
'What?'
'Think about it. Maybe he's sick of you guys—tired from the stress of coaching us. Especially Adrian, who always has something to complain about.'
'Leon, just shut up,' Adrian mutters, giving him a shove.
'Then where could he be? He hates it when we're late, but now he's making us wait.'
Finally, the coach rushes in, carrying his bags awkwardly, looking disorganized and tired.
'Coach, we're going to miss assembly. Why did you call us?'
'Don't worry about that—come in.'
They enter the office, crowding around the table while the coach sets down his papers.
'Is everything alright, Coach?'
'Yeah...yeah, I just had a late night. Alright, take your seats and let's get started—Wait. Where's Che?'
The players glance around, realizing he's missing. Suddenly, Che bursts in, panting.
'Sorry I'm late, Coach... I didn't know we had a meeting.'
'I sent a message in the group chat. Didn't you see it?'
'No... I'm not in the group chat.'
'Why not? Captain, why isn't he in the group chat?'
'I forgot, Coach,' Adrian admits sheepishly.
The coach sighs. 'Never mind. Sit down. Is everyone here? Good.'
He straightens his papers. 'Our upcoming match is against Fichtenhöhe Gymnasium. I've been researching them since Saturday night. Here's what I've found: they rely heavily on their midfield for a high-intensity press when they lose possession. But their real strength lies in their passing game. Rather than explaining further, let me show you footage from their last match.'
He opens his laptop and plays the first 30 minutes of Fichtenhöhe's game. Their opponents barely get to touch the ball, overwhelmed by the press. When in possession, Fichtenhöhe confidently keeps the ball for long stretches, moving it swiftly. In just 30 minutes, they score four goals, leaving the players watching both impressed and uneasy.
'Okay, boys, that's what we're up against on Saturday. We won't be able to avoid their press entirely, but we can counter it with disciplined defense. Today's practice will focus on off-ball drills and counterattacks—quick transitions to avoid holding the ball too long and allowing them to regain possession.'
The players groan at the thought of potentially practicing without a ball.
'We'll also work on your mental stamina while defending. Understood?'
'Yes, Coach!'
The meeting ends, and the players head to their classes.
**Later that afternoon**
The players stretch before practice begins.
'Okay, boys, start with two laps. Go!'
They jog around the field.
'Hey Che, look who's here to watch you. Have you talked to her yet?' Leon teases, pointing to Amelie sitting in the stands, focused on her phone and headphones.
'No, but she's the one who told me about the meeting this morning.'
'Weird. Amelie has no interest in football... Unless—hey, Captain! I thought you said you weren't helping Che with your sister!'
'Shut up, Leon! Focus on practice.'
Giggles ripple through the team.
'Hey! Stop slacking—run faster!' the coach barks.
After their laps, the team splits into five groups of four for defensive drills.
The objective: maintain defensive discipline by communicating effectively in 4v4 situations, with attackers allowed only one touch per possession.
The coach blows his whistle, and Che aggressively presses the ball carrier, leaving his position. The assistant coach halts the drill with another whistle.
'Che, the point of this drill is communication and discipline. Don't leave your position without signaling to your teammates!'
'Sorry, Coach!'
'Don't apologize to me—apologize to your teammates for potentially conceding a goal. This game will require mental focus. Understand?'
'Yes, Coach!'
The teams strategize. Che's group forms a square shape, while the attackers opt for a diamond formation.
The drill restarts, with the attacking team passing the ball around patiently. Che fidgets in his position, eager to win the ball.
'Che! Don't move—hold your position!'
Che nods but struggles to resist the urge. When the attackers show no intent to advance, he charges forward, intercepting a loose touch and scoring on the small goal.
Before the assistant coach can whistle, one of Che's teammates snaps.
'What the hell are you doing?!'
'What do you mean? I won the ball and scored.'
'The drill isn't about winning the ball!'
'What? Isn't that what defense is about?'
'Coach, send this kid back to U14!'
'What did you just say?' Che fumes.
The coach blows his whistle, silencing them.
'Alright, new rule: if you break the drill's principles, you'll run two laps while your teammates do pushups one at a time. Understood?'
'Yes, Coach!'
The practice resumes, and Che continues to struggle, unable to grasp the tactical discipline. Frustration mounts as his teammates yell at him, but he refuses to quit.
By the end of practice, Che's team collapses to the ground, exhausted, while the others head to the locker room, laughing.
'Bro, could you be any dumber?' Adrian chuckles, nudging Che's foot. 'At this rate, you might not start this weekend.'
Finally, they muster the strength to sit up.
'Hey guys?'
'What?'
'Can you tell me what I was doing wrong?'
'Practice is over. Figure it out yourself,' one teammate replies, walking off.
Nate stays behind, sighing. 'Alright, listen. I'll explain it like I would to a kid. You need to understand this before Saturday.'
After 10 minutes of patient explanation, Nate checks in.
'Got it now?'
'Yeah, I think I do.'
'Good. Just remember, this isn't about showing off—it's about helping the team.'
'Why are you helping me? You know I might take your spot in the starting lineup, right?'
Nate shrugs. 'Doesn't matter. This is my last year, and all I care about is winning. If your addition helps us do that, I'm happy.'
They head to the locker room together, ready for the next challenge.