Episode 215: A New World - 1
Gulp, gulp.
I rinse my mouth with a sports drink and swallow it down.
Under the now blazing sun, I briefly rest in the shade, catching my breath.
Rattle.
In the center of the training ground, coaches pull over carts and scatter the balls inside across the pitch.
Having just finished light jogging, dynamic stretching, and interval running, it seems the real training is about to begin.
“Hoo—”
But calling it “real” feels hollow—my breath is already heaving right up to my chin.
My expectation that things would go easy since it’s the first day was shattered long ago.
I lost count of how many laps I’d sprinted at full speed around the field.
Thanks to that, I nearly dropped to the back during the last few laps, but I gritted my teeth and ran, fortunately not falling behind.
Everyone else was running like it was nothing, so I had to pretend I was fine too—it was excruciating.
Honestly, it’s not like physical training is new to me, so it wasn’t beyond endurance.
Running is literally just a warm-up, right?
Feeling exhausted during the warm-up phase was quite disconcerting.
Do big clubs really differentiate themselves from other teams starting from the warm-up?
While thinking that, the coach calls the players together.
“Alright—”
Training bibs are handed out to the players one by one.
Three colors total.
The bib I received is red.
“To your positions—”
I put on the bib and look around to see players gathering in threes and fives, as if used to this.
At a glance... it looks like four players each in red bibs and fluorescent bibs, with two in white bibs sandwiched in between.
I’m briefly gauging where I should go when the coach calls me over with a gesture.
It seems he wants me to join that group.
I go over and take my place.
Then I look at the faces of my teammates... Hmm.
I feel like I’ve entered the wrong group.
“...”
The players in red bibs like me are Rúben Dias, Rodri, and Kovačić.
The two in white bibs are Julián Álvarez and Erling Haaland.
And positioned on the opposite side in fluorescent bibs are Jérémy Doku, Jack Grealish, Phil Foden, and De Bruyne.
I don’t know what we’ll be doing, but just looking at those names, I can tell I’ve landed in a brutal group.
I was already nervous, but I’m growing even more tense; I feel like I need to keep my head on straight.
“Ready—!”
At the coach’s signal, the players begin to spread out.
I read the room, check the players’ positions, and find my spot.
For a moment, a battle of glances unfolds.
*Beep—!*
At the same time the whistle blows from behind me—
*Bang—!*
A ball is fed in between us.
The first to get his foot to the ball is Phil Foden on the opposite side.
*Tap-tap—!*
The moment Foden takes the ball, the red bibs—my teammates—rush in.
Pressure is applied immediately, so Foden passes to the side, and the ball goes to De Bruyne’s feet.
Pressure is applied again.
*Bang—!*
*Bang—!*
Looking closely, this is just a Rondo.
The ball-circulating drill commonly used as a warm-up.
*Bang—!*
*Bang—!*
But as can be seen from the pass speed and pressing intensity, here they don’t treat Rondo as just a warm-up.
This is... basically a real match, isn’t it?
*Tap-tap—!*
There’s no time to space out.
I match my teammates’ movements and move into the position I need to take.
Cutting off the routes the ball might escape through, I keep my head on a swivel, tracking the fluorescent bibs’ movements.
*Tap-tap—!*
...We pressed hard.
The opponents’ continuous triangulation and footwork are amazing, but our side’s movements forming an efficient pressing shape are incredibly agile too.
We succeed in isolating Grealish, who has the ball, in an instant.
However, I soon realize that was a miscalculation.
*Bang—!*
Grealish’s pass goes in an unexpected direction, and Álvarez in the white bib receives it.
Álvarez passes the ball to De Bruyne, who has already found open space, and we end up having to reorganize our positions anew.
Now I get it.
I had wondered which side the white bibs were on; it seems they play on the attacking side.
Right now they cooperate with the opponents, but the moment we take the ball, they cooperate with us.
In the end, it’s a format of six attackers versus four defenders.
*Bang—!*
*Bang—!*
Even while my belated understanding is catching up, the ball keeps circulating.
That speed is overwhelming to track with just my eyes.
For a moment, memories of being run ragged against Man City in the last Champions League flash by, and I feel a slight pang of PTSD.
Now I understand how they could carry on such a smooth passing game in a real match.
If they train like this, it’s only natural.
Good.
Push aside the stray thoughts. Now that I perfectly understand the rules, it’s time to focus solely on stealing the ball.
I expand my senses, bringing the white-bibbed players onto my radar too.
*Tap-tap—!*
The opponents’ movements are amazing, but our side’s movements are flawless as well.
The only sound on the pitch is the ball being kicked—partly because I’m focused, but also because everyone is automatically making the right movements.
The problem is me.
I just need to find the right answer and move, but if I can’t keep up with my teammates, structurally I feel like I’ll never be able to win the ball back.
Then what will happen?
Won’t everyone think that inwardly?
“Don’t they do this kind of training at Fiorentina?”
“Why can’t he even keep up?”
I can endure looking inferior on my own, but I can’t stand my origins being looked down upon.
I need to focus more.
*Bang—!*
The ball sticks to Foden’s feet.
Kovačić closes in immediately, and Foden’s eyes dart rapidly, looking for an outlet.
*Tap-tap—!*
At the same time, players trying to receive and players trying to block routes move while checking each other.
In that process, several routes come into view.
No matter how well the defensive side maintains its formation, gaps are inevitable with a 6 vs 4 numbers advantage.
However, if I can spot that gap one step before the opponent and move one step faster, cutting off the pass isn’t impossible.
Because in the end, the opponents have no choice but to send the ball through those gaps.
*Tap-tap—!*
The moment I dash to the left—
*Bang—!*
the ball comes loose from Foden’s foot.
Left.
The direction I moved.
I stretch my leg out long to intercept.
*Smack—!*
...I got it.
Done.
Interception successful.
But contrary to my expectation, the play doesn’t end and continues.
*Tap-tap—!*
The opposing players begin pressing around me.
At the same time, my teammates scatter into open spaces.
And then, out of nowhere, the coach’s counting voice rings out.
“Six!”
So it doesn’t end just because I won the ball?
At Fiorentina, it did, but not here, it seems.
Without even time to panic, I first evade the pressure and pass to a teammate.
*Bang—!*
“Five!”
Right there, offense and defense switch, and as the passes continue, the coach’s count decreases by one each second.
“Four!”
*Bang—!*
“Three!”
*Bang—!*
“Two!”
*Bang—!*
“One!”
*Bang—!*
And when it’s finally time for zero to be called—
*Beep—!*
A whistle takes zero’s place.
As that whistle sounds, all the players finally stop.
“Red, one point!”
And one point is given to us.
Since the count started at 6, is it a point awarded for stealing the ball and keeping it for 6 seconds?
Suddenly, memories of the last match come to mind again.
The memory of struggling against the immediate pressure that followed after somehow stealing the ball.
So this was the reason.
Not just the determination to win the ball back, but a rule that if you lose it, you must win it back within 6 seconds.
...What a brutal rule.
With such a rule and players capable of executing it, no wonder I could barely touch the ball in that match and just had to watch their passing.
I can’t help but marvel.
“Ready—!”
But there’s no time to shudder either.
The training continues immediately.
*Beep—!*
Along with the whistle, a ball is fed in from outside again.
The direction that ball is headed... is me.
*Bang—!*
The moment I receive the ball, I switch back into focus mode.
Sometimes during a match, there are moments when you can gauge whether you’re doing well by the opponent’s reaction.
When the opposing players’ expressions furrow and their voices grow rough, you realize you’re doing well.
In the match against Man City, except for a few moments, we had no choice but to spend most of our time frustrated.
Man City played so well that it felt like we weren’t playing a match but being bullied.
Back then, I couldn’t bring myself to like Man City’s football no matter how hard I tried.
But now that I’ll be playing that kind of football... a strange excitement wells up.
I hate being on the receiving end, but on the giving end, it’s definitely got to be fun.
I’ve started to become interested in Man City-style football.
*
The Rondo, which at Fiorentina was nothing but a warm-up, continued here with such intensity and for so long that it could easily be considered the main training.
It was so relentless that by the time it ended, I couldn’t tell whether I’d been training or playing a match.
The fortunate thing is that I didn’t make any notable mistakes during it.
It was truly interesting training, but honestly, I was nervous that I might not keep up.
I think I focused as if I were in a real match by myself; whatever the case, I didn’t fall behind, so I consider that good enough.
Well... I don’t know how I looked in the eyes of the other players, coaches, or the manager, though.
“Hoo—”
But the training wasn’t over yet.
It was already moving into the second session.
While the players gathered in one spot to rest briefly, in front of the goal the goalkeepers were preparing with their gloves on.
Shooting training seemed to be next.
However, this team doesn’t seem to do shooting training normally either.
Because the coaches had begun setting up poles in front of the penalty box.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Once ready, the coach calls the players, and they line up trudgingly.
...I read the room, needlessly retied my shoelaces, and stood at the very back of the line.
Going first is burdensome.
I need to watch how it’s done first.
With my heart nervous once again, shooting training begins immediately.
The first to step up is the team’s starting striker, Erling Haaland.
“...”
I’ve felt it since earlier, but even his back looks monstrous.
A tall frame with broad shoulders.
The blonde hair as long as his legs is impressive, but more impressive is his appearance.
I somehow find myself staring blankly.
Thanks to that, while my gaze was stolen by him, when I came to my senses, a slightly unusual scene caught my eye.
Haaland had taken his position a short distance from the penalty arc, and around him in all directions, coaches holding balls were standing widely spread out.
Haaland in the center kept tapping the ball in place while constantly looking around.
It seems he starts without knowing from which direction the pass will come.
It’s a training that requires not just simple shooting, but also concentration and quick reactions.
For no reason, I grow more tense and wait for the pass to begin.
“Hey—!”
Then a coach’s shout suddenly rings out.
At the same time, a powerful pass is sent toward Haaland.
*Bang—!*
However, the direction is completely different from where the coach’s voice came from.
It may look like a childish trick, but the person involved must be quite confused.
*Bang—!*
But Haaland receives the ball skillfully.
Having trapped it under his feet with a soft touch,
*Bang—*
*Bang—*
he immediately exchanges one-two passes with a nearby coach, passes through the poles, and then—
*Booooom—!*
splits the net with a cannonball-like left-footed shot.
The goalkeeper who was also training couldn’t even react and just stood in place.
“...”
Seeing that, I almost clapped but lowered my raised hand.
Because nobody around showed any particular reaction.
Even Haaland is returning without any expression.
It was a clean touch, pass, and finish that would make anyone want to applaud.
Is it just something taken for granted here?
Thinking that makes me even more nervous.
Up until the Rondo, I could somewhat ride along with my teammates... but this is different.
Moreover, I have to do it in front of everyone, so I’ll be in the spotlight.
...I couldn’t help but think that failing at this would be a huge problem.