The Dortmund training ground was alive with the usual buzz, yet today there was an unmistakable twist to the atmosphere. A new addition had joined the ranks—Matteo Rinaldi, a midfielder formerly of AC Milan. Richard, always observant, immediately took note of Matteo: tall, self-assured, tattoos winding their way down his arms, and a smile that seemed to challenge rather than welcome anyone.
Coach Schmidt clapped his hands together, breaking through the murmur. "Everyone, this is Matteo. Let's show him how we've been doing things around here."
Richard stepped forward, extending his hand for a shake. Matteo complied, offering a brief nod that felt cool enough to chill a warm day. "Let's see if you live up to the hype," he declared, his tone serious yet devoid of malice. It hung between them—a challenge, perhaps, with just a hint of a dare.
Richard clenched his jaw; it didn't feel right to respond to Matteo's bravado. Chidi leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Careful, Blake. That guy's ego could have its own postal code," he warned, eyes darting towards the newcomer.
The training that week morphed into a bit of a battlefield. Matteo seized every opportunity to showcase his skill, demonstrating his fancy dribbles and deft flicks while seemingly ignoring smart passes and fellow teammates. Richard concentrated hard, convinced that teamwork should triumph over flamboyance, yet every day brought fresh frustrations. When Matteo turned Richard into a mere footnote in a small drill—nutmegging him and celebrating like he had just clinched the trophy—it drew nervous laughter from the younger players. Richard managed a weak smile, but inside, he felt a resentment brewing.
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Matchday arrived: Freiburg faced Dortmund.
The stadium thrummed like a drum, the kind of excitement that could make one's heart race even before the match began. Richard started on the left wing, while Matteo organized himself in the central midfield. From the very first whistle, chaos reigned. Freiburg pressed hard, and Dortmund stumbled under the weight of it all. Matteo danced past defenders, opting to hold onto the ball instead of releasing it when Richard made clever, strategic runs—each one ignored, blocked by Matteo's solo performance.
Then came a rapid strike from Freiburg. They sliced through Dortmund's midfield as if it were butter, and before long, their striker neatly tucked the ball into the net. 1–0.
Coach Schmidt's shouts pierced through the din. "Play as a team! Matteo, keep it simple! Richard, stay engaged! Team above all!"
In the second half, Richard chased down every loose ball, sprinting through the pressure, finally seizing a moment to shine. He weaved past two defenders, preparing to deliver a brilliant cross. And what happened? Matteo—standing entirely free in front of the goal—fluffed the chance. Minutes later, Freiburg struck again. The final whistle sounded, and the score read 2–0. Dortmund had succumbed to defeat.
In the locker room, an uneasy silence descended like a heavy blanket. Richard slumped onto a bench, heart racing, sweat mingling with frustration. This wasn't merely about the loss—it was about feeling invisible. He had played his heart out, yet the team faltered due to someone's ego.
Lukas settled beside him, resting a hand on Richard's shoulder. "Tough match, mate."
Richard remained mute, his gaze trained on the floor. "We lost to ourselves," he mumbled, the words tasting bitter.
"You'll bounce back," Lukas replied softly. "But remember, Matteo seems to be playing for himself, not for the badge."
Richard looked up, letting the realization take root. Anger, disappointment, and a flicker of determination welled within him. This wasn't just a game; this was a test—a test of patience, skill, and heart. Next time, he vowed silently, he wouldn't let anyone steal his thunder. He would not just play the game; he would seize it.
The Dortmund training ground was quieter the following morning, still heavy with the residue of the Freiburg loss. Arriving early, Richard laced his boots with determination, replaying every moment from the match in his mind—every misstep, every ignored pass, every dubious act of Matteo's.
He could almost hear the whispers of doubt before they were spoken. Some teammates seemed skeptical of him, while others wore looks of pity. And as for Matteo? He appeared nonchalant, hardly affected by the defeat.
But Richard brushed aside such trifles—whispers, doubts, and petty rivalries didn't matter.
With single-minded focus, he endured the drills, sharp and intentional with every sprint and every pass. Sweat dripped down his face, muscles screamed in protest, yet he pressed on. This wasn't about showing off; this was about appearing—about proving that raw talent wasn't everything. It was heart, grit, and relentless determination that also counted.
Coach Schmidt observed from the sidelines, arms crossed, a watchful eye. "Blake," he called out, "you're running like a man possessed. Show me what you've got!"
Richard merely let his actions speak. During a small-sided scrimmage, he anticipated every pass, intercepted balls, and threaded through with impeccable timing. Matteo attempted to steal the spotlight, but Richard became an omnipresent force—reading the game, setting the pace, refusing to fade into the background.
Lukas nudged him during a water break. "You're on fire today. It's not just skill—it's your drive. They can't teach that!"
Richard nodded, pushing aside his fatigue. "I don't care who thinks they're better. I'm here to do my part, every single time."
By the end of the session, even Matteo couldn't overlook it. He approached Richard, albeit tentatively, with a nod. "You… you weren't trying to show off today. You were… everywhere."
Richard grinned just a bit. "Not showing off. Just doing my job."
Coach Schmidt clapped his hands, a smile creeping across his face. "Now, this is what I wanted to see. Skills are important, yes—but victory starts in the mind and the heart. Blake, keep this up, and you'll not only play for this team but lead it!"
Richard left that day, drenched in sweat and mud, muscles aching, yet his heart swelled with a quiet pride. He understood one thing now: he could be the new kid, face rivals, and even stumble at times. But as long as he possessed determination, heart, and focus, no one could ever eclipse him.
And as the Bundesliga season marched on, he made a silent vow: this was merely the beginning.