The first day of preseason training arrived with the familiar, humid air of late summer. The past season's triumphs—the league title, the national camp, the England debut—felt like a lifetime ago as Ethan, Callum, and Mason were directed towards the U16s squad.
The physical difference was immediate and stark. The returning U16s were taller, broader, and moved with an unshakable confidence. They owned this pitch. Ethan, Callum, and Mason, champions of their own age group, were now the newcomers, the "kids" from the year below.
A lean man with an intense gaze and a clipboard clutched in his hand blew a sharp blast on his whistle. "Listen up!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chatter. "For those who don't know me, I'm Coach Shaw. And let me be clear about something: I don't care about last season's trophies or what's written about you in the local paper. The U14s are in the past. As of today, reputations mean nothing. The only thing that matters is what you show me on this pitch right now. Earn your shirt. Simple as that."
The message erased all past glories. The session began with an intense possession drill, and the step up in physicality was brutal. Early on, Ethan received the ball and was immediately knocked to the turf by a powerful shoulder from the U16 captain, a commanding midfielder named Jake.
"Get up, Matthews!" Coach Shaw yelled from the sideline. "This isn't U14s!"
The trio struggled. Callum, used to outsmarting defenders, found himself being outmuscled. Mason went into a thunderous 50/50 tackle with Jake, a clash of wills that ended with the older player coming away with the ball, earning a sharp "Well done, Jake!" from the coach.
Frustration began to bubble up. During a water break, Mason wiped sweat from his brow, his jaw tight. "We're letting them push us around."
"They're huge," Callum muttered, rubbing his shoulder.
Ethan caught his breath, his mind racing. "We can't outmuscle them," he said, thinking back to the lessons of the previous season. "So we have to out-think them."
When the final scrimmage began, they changed their approach. Instead of trying to match the older boys for strength, they focused on speed of thought and movement. Ethan stopped holding onto the ball, playing quick, one-touch passes to move the defense around before a challenge could arrive. Callum stopped trying to fight the center-backs and instead made sharp, darting runs into the channels behind them.
In the final minutes of the game, their moment came. Ethan, anticipating the play, intercepted a pass in midfield. Before the larger players could close him down, he took one touch and threaded a perfect, defense-splitting pass into the space he knew Callum would be attacking. Callum latched onto it, and with a composed finish, slotted the ball past the keeper.
It was a goal created by intelligence, not strength. From the sideline, Coach Shaw offered a single, sharp nod of approval before immediately shouting instructions to his defenders.
As the session ended, Jake walked past Mason. "Got lucky, kid," he sneered. "This is a long pre-season."
Mason just stared back, his expression unreadable.
Walking off the pitch, bruised and exhausted, Callum shook his head. "That was the hardest session I've ever had."
"Good," Mason said, his eyes still fixed on Jake's back. "It's supposed to be."
Ethan looked from the determined face of his friend to the imposing figures of his new teammates. Winning the U14 league had made them kings. Playing for England had made him a hero. But here, on the first day of preseason under a new, demanding coach, he was an underdog again. He smiled to himself. He knew exactly what he had to do: prove himself, all over again.