On the sixtieth minute, the equalizer came.
Eli Fortis received the ball wide right. He darted inside, dragging Ollie with him. Instead of crossing, he slipped it back to Jamie Walsh at the edge of the box.
Jamie didn't hesitate. He curled a left-footed shot around Danny Mills.
This time, Tommy Henderson was beaten.
The ball hit the inside of the post and rolled into the net.
1-1.
The Black team celebrated, Jamie pointing to the sky. "Told you boys!"
Harry clenched his jaw, frustrated. They'd been the better team for most of the match.
Frank's voice cut through the celebration. "Concentrate! Game's not over!"
The last ten minutes were frantic. Both teams went for the win, the intensity cranked up to match level.
Harry switched wings with Riley, trying to find a different angle. From the right side, he had more space to cut inside on his stronger right foot.
In the sixty-seventh minute, he almost snatched a late winner.
Noah Perring found him with a clever through ball. Harry was in behind Kian Madders, bearing down on goal.
Tyler Vane came out to narrow the angle, making himself big.
Harry tried to place it in the bottom corner, but Tyler got down quickly, smothering the shot with his body.
"Brilliant keeping!" Frank called, though Harry could see the frustration in the gaffer's eyes.
The Black team pressed for a winner too. Marcus Thompson got in behind Reece Holloway with three minutes left, his cross just missing Oscar Dealtry's outstretched boot.
In the dying seconds, Harry had one last chance.
He cut inside from the right, beating Kian again, then drove toward the box. Noah Perring overlapped on the left, dragging defenders with him.
Harry ignored the pass, letting fly from twenty yards.
The ball curled beautifully, dipping toward the top corner.
Tyler leaped high, fingertips pushing it over the crossbar.
"Unbelievable, Tyler!" shouted Finlay Hume, slapping his keeper on the back.
The whistle blew soon after. 1-1.
Frank gathered them all at midfield again, his voice carrying in the cold air.
"Good session, lads. You've blown the Christmas pudding out your legs now. I saw sharpness, I saw commitment. Still rusty in places, but much better than I expected."
He looked at both teams, his eyes lingering on certain players.
"On Saturday, we host Walsall. Just four days from now. Today's training session was your chance to prove you're ready for the starting eleven. Some of you showed me plenty today."
Harry caught his breath, sweat clinging to his forehead despite the cold. His legs felt heavy, but his mind was sharp.
Frank wasn't finished. "Walsh, excellent distribution today. Vane, outstanding shot-stopping. Mills, solid leadership at the back."
He paused, looking directly at Harry.
"Whittaker, good movement and work rate. But I want to see more end product. You're getting in good positions, now make them count."
Harry nodded, taking the criticism on the chin. Frank was right—he'd had chances but hadn't taken them.
As the lads jogged back toward the changing rooms, Jamie Walsh fell into step beside Harry.
"Good session, mate. That shot at the end nearly had me worried."
"Nearly doesn't win matches," Harry replied.
"True. But you're looking sharp. Sharper than before Christmas."
Noah Perring joined them, still breathing hard. "We played well as a unit. The understanding's getting better."
"Has to be," Harry said. "Walsall won't give us as much time on the ball as we had today."
In the changing room, Frank posted a sheet on the notice board. "Training schedule for the week. We'll have a light session Wednesday, tactical work Thursday, then match prep Friday."
Harry studied the schedule, already thinking about the areas he needed to work on. His crossing had been decent, but his finishing needed to be sharper.
[Training Session Complete]
[Key Passes: 5, Shots: 4, Defensive Actions: 3]
[Final XP Gained: +4]
[Current Experience: 133/400]
The system's summary was encouraging. An overall 6 XP for a training session was solid progress, and his overall play had been more complete than just focusing on goals.
---
That evening in the accommodation, Harry sat at his desk reviewing his school works. Jamie Walsh was already asleep, exhausted from the session.
His phone buzzed. A text from his little sister, Sophie: {How was training? Are you going to play on Saturday?}
Harry typed back: {Don't know yet. But I'm ready if the gaffer picks me.}
{You better score. I've told everyone at school my brother's a footballer now.}
Harry chuckled despite himself. The pressure from home was different from the pressure at the academy. Warmer somehow.
Another text came in, this time from Ellie: "Mum's been checking the club website for team news. She's proper nervous about Saturday."
"Tell her I'm fine. Just focused on training."
"I will. Don't put too much pressure on yourself, yeah? You're still just 15."
Sometimes Harry forgot that. The academy environment made everyone feel older, more professional. But Ellie was right—he was still just a kid from Northside Greater Manchester, trying to make his family proud.
He closed his phone and opened his tactical notebook. Frank had given each player one at the start of the season, encouraging them to analyze their own performances.
Under "Areas to Improve," Harry wrote: "Finishing in tight spaces. Decision making in final third. Maintain work rate for full 90 minutes."
Under "Strengths," he added: "Movement off the ball. Defensive recovery runs. Creating chances for teammates."
The list was getting longer as his understanding of the game deepened. The system was tracking his technical development, but this kind of self-analysis was just as important.
Tomorrow would bring another training session, another chance to prove he belonged in the starting eleven for Saturday.
Harry switched off his bedside lamp and lay back on his pillow, already visualizing his next opportunity to impress Frank.
Four days until Walsall. Four days to secure his place in the team.
The competition for places was fierce, but Harry felt ready for the challenge.
The system had shown him his potential. Now it was time to deliver when it mattered most.