WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?! WOOH! WOOH! WOOH WOOH! WOOH!
The alarm clock screamed at 6:30 AM.
Harry jolted awake, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar ceiling. Then it all came flooding back—the match, the accommodation, the system.
Jamie was already up, rummaging through his bag.
"Morning, superstar," Jamie grinned. "Sleep well?"
"Like a log." Harry stretched, feeling the ache in his legs from yesterday's match. "You?"
"Nah, not for long. Kept thinking about what Coach Frank said about the full-time training with the club. This is mental."
Harry swung his legs out of bed. Through the window, he could see other lads from different age groups already jogging around the pitches. Some looked like they'd been up for hours.
"Come on then," Harry said, grabbing his washbag. "Let's see what we've signed up for."
---
The dining hall was bigger than Harry had expected. Maybe sixty or so lads spread across long tables, ages ranging from fourteen to eighteen. The younger ones sat together, looking nervous. The older lads commanded the tables near the windows.
As a fourth tier League Two club, Salford had to have a functioning youth system comprising of the U15s, U18s, U19s, and U21s. Even if for the sake of keeping up image. At the very least, they would be lacking compared to clubs at their level.
Harry and Jamie found spots with the rest of their team. Tommy Henderson was already halfway through a full English breakfast.
"Alright, lads?" Tommy said through a mouthful of sausage. "Sleep like babies, did we?"
"Speak for yourself," Danny Mills muttered, dark circles under his eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about the next round."
"The draw' still two weeks away," Riley Croft reminded him. "Plenty of time to worry about that later."
A tall lad from one of the older teams walked past their table, stopping beside Harry's chair.
"You're the new boy, aren't you? The one who scored twice yesterday?"
Harry nodded, suddenly aware that half the dining hall was watching.
"Nice one. About time someone from the lower years showed some bottle." The older lad stuck out his hand. "Marcus Webb. U19s captain."
Harry shook it. "Harry Whittaker."
"I know who you are, mate. Word travels fast around here. Keep it up."
After Marcus left, Jamie leaned over. "Bloody hell, Harry. You're already making waves."
Harry just focused on his breakfast. Toast, eggs, beans. Simple food, but it tasted different knowing he was eating it as a proper academy player.
After breakfast, his phone buzzed. A text from his elder sister, Ellie:
Harry smiled at the never-changing "Ellie Banter" and typed back a fierce comeback:
---
The education block was a short walk from the accommodation. Spacious classrooms, white boards, everything Harry's old school had dreamed of having.
Mrs. Patterson introduced them to their teacher, Mr. Davies—a young Welsh lad in his late twenties who looked more like a footballer than an academic.
"Right then," Mr. Davies said, clipboard in hand. "I know you're all buzzing about yesterday's result, but this morning we're doing maths. GCSE level, so pay attention."
And as every kid would react to hearing the word "maths", the groans were audible.
"Football careers are short, lads. Even if you make it to the Premier League, you'll retire at thirty-five if you're lucky. What then?"
He had a point. Harry pulled out his notebook and tried to focus on the quadratic equations. But his mind kept drifting.
Halfway through the lesson, Mr. Davies called on him.
"Harry, if x equals three, what's the value of this equation?"
Harry stared at the whiteboard, the numbers swimming slightly. "Erm... twelve?"
"Close. Anyone else?"
Noah raised his hand from the front row. "Fifteen."
"Correct. Pay attention, Harry. I know you had a good day yesterday, but that doesn't mean you can switch off in here."
Harry's cheeks burned. A few lads snickered.
The rest of the morning crawled by. English literature came next, where they discussed some famous poets and their works Harry didn't understand. Then Science, where they talked about energy transfer and Harry found himself thinking about how the system might work.
By lunch, his head was spinning.
---
The afternoon was different.
At two o'clock sharp, all twenty-five members of the U18 squad stood on the training pitch in matching tracksuits. The sun had come out, burning off the morning mist.
Frank stood in front of them with two coaches Harry hadn't met before.
"Right, lads. Meet Carl Henderson—our new fitness coach. And this is Steve Murphy, technical development."
Carl was built like a brick wall, all muscle and intensity. Steve was smaller, nimble-looking, with intelligent eyes.
"From now on," Frank continued, "training is split into phases. Technical work with Steve in the mornings after education. Physical conditioning with Carl in the afternoons. Match preparation on Thursdays and Fridays."
He paused, letting it sink in.
"Today, we start with fitness testing. Carl needs to know where you all are physically. Then Steve will assess your technical abilities."
"Let's go then," Carl barked. "First up, bleep test. I want to see who's got the engine and who's been eating too many pies over the break."
The bleep test was torture. Harry managed level 12 before his lungs gave out, gasping and bent over with hands on his knees. Jamie lasted until level 10. Tommy Henderson, surprisingly, made it to level 14.
"Not bad," Carl said, writing numbers on his clipboard. "But we'll get those numbers up. Next, sprint tests."
Forty-meter sprints. Harry clocked 5.2 seconds, which felt decent until he saw Riley Croft run it in 4.8.
[DING!]
[Fitness Assessment Complete]
[Current Physical Condition: Above Average for Age Group]
[Stamina: 47/100 - Potential for significant improvement identified]
[Pace: 55/100 - Natural speed confirmed]
The system's analysis felt clinical but encouraging.
After an hour of physical tests, Steve took over for technical assessment.
"Right, lads. Simple stuff to start. Juggling, first touch, passing accuracy. I want to see your natural ability."
Harry grabbed a ball and started juggling. Left foot, right foot, thigh, chest, head, shoulder. He managed forty-three touches before it hit the ground.
"Good control," Steve noted. "Now let's see your passing."
Twenty passes from fifteen yards, aiming for cones. Harry hit seventeen out of twenty.
[DING!]
[Technical Assessment Complete]
[First Touch: 48/100 - Consistent but room for refinement]
[Passing Accuracy: 72% - Above average precision]
[Ball Control: 52/100 - Natural ability evident]
The numbers were encouraging, but Harry could see areas that needed work.
Finally, Steve set up a simple dribbling course. Cones to weave through, finished with a shot on goal.
Harry had run similar courses hundreds of times in park kickabouts, but this felt different. More precise and measured.
He took his time through the cones, focusing on keeping the ball close. His final shot found the bottom corner.
"Nice finish," Steve called. "Next!"
[DING!]
[Daily Objective Complete: First Training Session]
[+4 XP earned - Excellent effort and focus]
[Current Experience: 169/200]
Four XP from one training session. At this rate, he'd reach level two within a week.
---
That evening, Harry sat at his desk trying to finish his maths homework. Jamie was already asleep, exhausted from the day.
His phone rang. A call from his mum.
"How was your first day, love?"
"Knackering. But good. The education stuff is hard, but the training was brilliant."
"Are you eating enough? You sound tired."
"I'm fine, Mum. Just adjusting to the changes, that's all."
"Your little sister wants a word."
Sophie came on the line. "Harry! Ellie showed me the training pictures on the club website. You looked proper professional."
"They took our pics?"
"Probably for marketing exposure in their social media platforms. You're famous now. Mrs. Thompson asked me for your autograph."
Harry laughed. "Tell her she'll have to wait until I make it big in a few years."
After he hung up, Harry opened his system interface one more time.
[Current Experience: 169/200]
[31 XP needed for Level 2]
If training could give him 3-4 XP per day, and match performances could give him 20-50 XP, he was looking at maybe a week to ten days before his first level-up.
The thought was exciting and terrifying at the same time.
He closed his eyes to sleep and soon enough, drifted off.