Middle-Aged Men Are Obsessed With Me -1
“Great work, great work!”
As soon as training ended, I greeted the senior players first without even a moment to catch my breath.
And I was greeting the coaches too, when I noticed a familiar face and looked again—it was Coach Luca.
For a moment, I was so out of it that I couldn’t even recognize him.
“Here, drink this first.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Coach Luca handed me a sports drink, and I finally let out a sigh, gulping it down.
Wow, this is really hard. Today’s training was tougher than any match I’ve played so far.
Even including the match against Juventus.
And it wasn’t like I’d been running that long since it was just training. The first team really is different. Completely different.
Whew.
As I was catching my breath like that, Coach Luca asked.
“No, what on earth happened?”
“Huh... pardon?”
What did he mean, what happened?
When I tilted my head in confusion, Coach Luca said.
“Weren’t you nervous?”
“Nervous? Of course... I was incredibly nervous.”
“But how could you show your play exactly as it is? I’m asking because even I can’t understand it.”
For some reason, the coach said this with a thrilled expression.
But I just kept scratching my head.
Well, it’s just...
It was possible because I was nervous.
The other first-team seniors probably trained while taking it easy since it was their daily routine, but I didn’t.
I was more nervous than in an actual match, and I approached training as if it were more real than a real match.
That’s why I could barely keep up with the tempo at all. If not for that, would I have dared to even touch the ball among first-team players?
They probably took it easy on me too, and since this brat seemed to be working hard, they gave me the ball an extra time or two.
And there were probably a few times they could have easily stopped me but just let me through.
“Amazing, this is amazing. You really...”
The coach couldn’t possibly not know that, yet he made a fuss for no reason, building up my pride.
Well, it seemed like he was telling me not to lose heart, so I was grateful at heart.
Whew.
Anyway, what’s important is that I learned a lot training with the seniors.
Even though it was just training, the first team’s defense definitely felt much more organized and harder to shake.
Each defender’s physique was one thing, but their reactions were incomparably faster than the U17s.
Their organization and split-second judgment were also far better, so from an attacking standpoint, I felt like I was being demanded to make the best possible choice every single moment.
Like how you naturally improve when you keep solving difficult problems in studying.
I too kept being given difficult problems, and as I worried about how to solve them, I felt my skills improving in real time.
Anyway, for various reasons, I felt rather proud that I’d kept up with training pretty well for a trainee.
And I gained confidence too.
The confidence that, having faced the seniors, I could take on anyone when I went back to the U17.
As expected, there must be a reason they say you have to play in the deep end.
Right when I was catching my breath with that sense of pride.
“You’re sixteen?”
A voice came from behind me, and when I turned my head, I saw a tall man looking down at me.
Ah, it’s Vlahovic. Our team’s first-team starting striker.
Vlahovic smiled broadly and said.
“Why weren’t you born two years earlier, huh?”
“...Uh, yes?”
“Then we would’ve been in the Champions League already.”
What is he talking about now.
Champions League?
“Anyway, that was good. Come up to the first team quickly. I like you.”
“Ah... I’ll work hard.”
Vlahovic patted my shoulder and went back with a smile.
Then Coach Luca, who was standing beside me, also put his hand on my shoulder and said.
“That friend, he’s had a hard time. He must have been very frustrated. On the outside, anyone can see he’s a target-type striker, but actually, he’s a forward whose strengths are his movement and link-up play.”
“Ah...”
“But it must have been frustrating doing nothing but waiting for crosses all the time. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him smile so contentedly. He must really like you.”
...Me?
Hmm. Actually, I guess it couldn’t be helped.
Today, he and I had good chemistry.
There were several situations where he scored thanks to my help.
However, that was only because his movement and finishing were so excellent to begin with.
His movement inside the box, his sudden darting runs, even his line-breaking runs in behind the defense.
His movement was so good that I just had to pass the ball following that movement.
Then he somehow connected it into a goal.
That was all.
There was nothing amazing about what I did.
Well, anyway.
At least I’m relieved that I don’t seem to have made a bad impression. I remembered the crowd chanting Vlahovic’s name during the last match against Palermo when no goals were scored throughout the first half.
That’s how famous he is. How good he is.
A player I wouldn’t dare even look at had praised me, so I couldn’t help but feel proud even if it was just empty words.
Whew.
At least I was relieved that I hadn’t embarrassed Coach Luca or Manager Tony.
And that I hadn’t been scolded by the scary Manager Vincenzo—
“...Uh.”
My heart, relaxed from receiving some praise, suddenly gulped.
Because I saw the manager walking briskly toward me from afar.
Manager Vincenzo, his face bright red, was approaching me with a frightening expression.
“...”
The manager, who had appeared before me in an instant, pressed his lips tight and began looking me up and down.
At that gaze, I unconsciously snapped to attention, and the manager began to run his hands over my body.
W-why are you doing this...!
“Hmm. Hmm!”
Ugh...
His rough hands swept over my entire body.
After touching my legs, waist, and shoulders, the manager suddenly scratched his head vigorously.
Then he soon let out a sigh and nodded. With a face that looked almost resigned, the manager spoke.
“How many kilos are you now? Your weight.”
“Huh? Ah, I think it was 63 when I measured about two months ago.”
“Really? It looks like you’d weigh more than that. Your height?”
“My height was 176.”
“You last measured two months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s measure again right now.”
“Uh...!”
The manager grabbed my wrist outright.
And I was dragged off somewhere like that.
*
“It’s 177.3.”
“And the weight?”
“66.5.”
“See. You didn’t look like 63.”
Ijian stood at attention on the machine measuring height and weight.
And Manager Vincenzo, standing before him, nodded his head.
177 and 66.
He was on the skinny side, but not to the extent that it was a problem.
Even his body fat was practically nonexistent, so it was pure muscle weight. There were first-team players with far more extreme specs than this. It was not a problem at all.
Earlier, Manager Tony had insisted over the phone that he couldn’t send him to the first team because the kid weighed only 60 kilograms, but that had been a lie after all.
The bastard. If you’re going to lie, at least lie convincingly.
How did 66 become 60?
Go order six kilos of meat at a butcher shop. It comes out as one big bundle. One big bundle.
“It was 176 and 63 when you measured two months ago.”
“Ah, yes.”
Well, anyway.
At Ijian’s answer, Manager Vincenzo nodded. If he had grown more than a centimeter and gained three kilograms in two months, it was indeed a fact that he was still in his growth period.
Players in their prime growth period needed to be protected with care.
While all players were the same in that regard, getting injured was something that had to be avoided at all costs.
Making them play too much might not be good either. Because the human body grows when it rests.
Matches could be played later, but physical growth stopped once it halted, once and for all.
“Hmm.”
Vincenzo wasn’t someone ignorant enough not to know that, so he hadn’t just been stubborn for no reason.
He wanted to call him up to the first team right away and have him play 60 or 70 minutes every week if he could.
But Tony had flown into a rage just at the mention of sending him to the first team, and Vincenzo himself thought that would be too much as well.
In the end, they had to find a compromise.
Of course, it hadn’t been easy.
How stubborn Tony was, goodness.
Talking as if the kid would fly away if you blew on him, as if he would shatter like glass if you tapped him.
It wasn’t as if he was Ijian’s mother.
While talking on the phone, Vincenzo had almost felt like he was being treated as if he were trying to do something terrible.
No, he was the one who had recommended him first?
Well, anyway.
Since letting him gain first-team experience without overdoing it wasn’t a bad thing, the two managers had found a compromise after repeated concessions.
Of course, there were still matters that needed adjustment, but the general conditions were as follows.
First, his appearances for the first team would be limited to once a month.
Second, other than that, he would play in the U17 league matches.
Third, playing time would be adjusted appropriately to around 50 minutes.
Fourth, he would not be made to contest headers.
Fifth, absolutely no pressure regarding performance would be put on him.
This much was a reasonable compromise.
Well, to be honest, Vincenzo had wanted to be greedy enough to have him play for the first team twice a month.
But since Manager Tony said that wouldn’t do, he had no choice but to concede.
Goodness.
As if this were some transfer negotiation.
He had never dreamed he’d be arguing with the youth team manager over something like this.
Well, anyway.
“...Hehe.”
Manager Vincenzo, who had been looking at Ijian, smiled. Where had such a treasure suddenly popped out from?
Leaving all other issues aside, if you only looked at his skill, he was a talent who could make it in the first team right away.
Moreover, that talent was one that could solve the team’s biggest current problem.
‘I’m going to dote on him to death.’
As Manager Vincenzo watched with a deep smile, Ijian averted his gaze for no reason.
Like this, he was nothing but a young youth player, but how did he show such sensible play on the field?
Manager Vincenzo said with a smile on his face.
“You need to work out harder.”
“Huh? Ah, yes.”
“Not training with the ball. I mean physical training. Are you doing some?”
“Y-yes, I’m doing it with the coach.”
“Good. Eat well too. How many meals a day do you eat?”
“Three... meals?”
“Three. Three is good, but make sure to eat snacks in between too. Healthy ones. At your age, even that much will make your body grow quickly.”
At Manager Vincenzo’s words, Ijian nodded his head. However, the kid had looked confused about what he was doing here since a while ago.
Ah, come to think of it, he hadn’t told him.
Manager Vincenzo said.
“From now on, you’ll be going back and forth between the first team and the U17 team. If you do well, you might even get to play in matches, so take good care of your body.”
“...Huh?”
“Well, no need to feel pressured. Just think of it as building experience in advance, and relax. The coaches and senior teammates will take good care of you. Except for me, they all look scary, but they’re not scary guys, so don’t worry.”
“...Ah, yes.”
Manager Vincenzo put his arm around the surprised Ijian’s shoulder.
“I’ll take you home. Let’s go.”
“Ah... yes...”
As they exited the training room like that, a vibration rang from Manager Vincenzo’s pocket.
He took out his phone and saw that it was a text from Manager Tony.
“...”
The moment he checked the message, Manager Vincenzo frowned and put his phone back in his pocket.
Another long message under the pretense of precautions. He’d read it later.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Why was he being so clingy. For a youth team manager.
When the time came, he should know to let the kid go coolly.
From now on, this kid’s manager wouldn’t be Tony, but him.
“So. The first-team training ground is much better than the youth training ground, right?”
“Huh? Ah, yes.”
“And how about this manager? I’m less scary than Tony, aren’t I?”
“Hm... yes...”
“Haha! That guy has an unfriendly face. He looks too finicky.”
Manager Vincenzo burst into laughter with an inexplicable sense of victory and headed toward the parking lot with Ijian.
Since this was the kid who would become Fiorentina’s future, the ray of light for fans weary of tedious soccer.
He intended to personally give him a comfortable ride home.
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