The Terror of Desperation -2
I had hoped for it, but it was something I hadn't expected.
Being told to join the first-team training.
Had I really played that well?
Well, I certainly hadn't played poorly.
I had moved around actively to draw as much attention as possible, and I had even scored two goals.
Still, I hadn't thought I'd be called up this quickly.
When was the last time I had trained with the first team?
It felt like it had already been several months.
My heart was pounding.
“Huu.”
Calming my fluttering heart, I headed toward the adjacent training ground.
Normally, this situation would have been extremely burdensome, but given the circumstances, my excitement was even greater.
Could this be an opportunity coming my way?
“Excuse me, Coach.”
“Ah, yes. Jian.”
When I approached our U17 team's coach, Coach Tony, he greeted me awkwardly.
We had never really had a long conversation, so things were a bit awkward between us.
To be honest, it was like that with pretty much everyone on the team.
The coach placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke.
“Sorry for calling you out so suddenly.”
“It's fine.”
“The team without bibs. You'll be playing at the seconda punta position.”
“Yes.”
“Nothing special. Just run as you please. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Good. Wait a moment.”
Perhaps conscious of my level of Italian, the coach delivered his instructions in a tone that seemed carefully enunciated.
A role no different from usual.
But the first team was definitely different from the reserves.
Some of those kids had even trained with the senior squad before.
So I couldn't take this lightly.
“Forward!”
“Mark your man! He's cutting inside!”
Waiting briefly on the touchline, I observed the first team's practice match.
And as I did, I imagined things in my head.
If I was the seconda punta for the team without bibs...
Number 13. What was that kid's name again?
Ah, right. Gino.
If I were to take Gino's place.
I ran a simulation in my head of how I would play.
First, what I had to think about was why I was being put in that spot instead of Gino.
I had to figure out the coach's intentions in pulling Gino out and sending me in.
To do that, I first needed to compare Gino and myself.
Gino was... from what I remembered, a player of a similar type to me. Not physically dominant, but good at dribbling, passing, and penetrating runs.
Of course, our styles might be similar, but Gino was surely a superior version of me.
So Gino was on the first team, and I was on the reserves.
Anyway, in a case like this, there wasn't much difficulty.
When you substitute players of similar types, there's only one reason.
Stamina issues.
I was essentially Gino's backup battery.
So all I had to do was perform Gino's role exactly.
Nothing difficult about that.
However... there was one thing bothering me.
Namely, Gino was struggling.
The pressure being applied to Gino was quite intense.
Even without the ball, a marker stuck to him, and the moment the ball went to Gino, two or more players swarmed him instantly.
Contesting in such situations couldn't be easy, so Gino's turnovers were increasing.
Consequently, the frequency of passes directed at Gino was decreasing as well.
If that were me in that situation... first, I think I'd try to use the width of the pitch and find a way out.
That is, I had to drag the marker around.
Assigning a dedicated marker ultimately meant the defense was expending one man too.
If Gino didn't just stay in place but moved out wide or dropped into midfield.
The marker would have to leave his position too, inevitably creating empty space in that area.
I figured that's how you break the defense and change the flow... that was my line of thinking, at least.
Perhaps Gino thought differently; he didn't show much movement.
He probably thought he could shake the marker with individual skill.
There's no way Gino wouldn't know something that even I knew, surely.
“Jian, ready?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Gino doesn't seem to be in very good physical condition. I'm taking him out to let him rest, so no need for you to feel pressured.”
“Ah... yes.”
“Just do whatever you want to do.”
“Understood.”
Having said that, the coach cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone and called out to Gino.
At that call, Gino walked out slowly, and I ran past him toward my position.
As I ran, I suddenly realized I was incredibly nervous.
Come to think of it, to the first-team kids, this was nothing more than a practice game.
I had been seriously analyzing it all alone as if it were a real match.
For some reason, I felt a bit ridiculous.
But, regardless.
This moment was indeed an important opportunity for me.
So what if I took things a bit too seriously on my own?
It was better than humiliating myself in front of Jiu.
*Beeeep-!*
The match restarted with the opponent's goal kick.
I began to run lightly, believing in the power of desperation.
*
What I needed right now was to play beyond my abilities.
The pitch I was standing on wasn't some mini-game with the reserves.
It was the first team's practice match.
Overtaking Gino to claim a starting spot was pure delusion, but at the very least, I had to show the possibility that I could replace Gino's role in an emergency.
Only then could I earn a spot on the bench.
To do that, rather than being greedy for things I couldn't do, I had to focus on what I could do.
*Thump-*
*Thump-!*
Our team was circulating the ball from the back.
The opponent's defense stood in tight intervals, so angles for forward passes didn't easily open up.
Consequently, only lateral and backward passes continued.
From the outside, this scene probably looked boring, but the perspective from inside was different.
This was precisely when the fiercest battle of wits took place.
Especially in my case.
The reason forward progress from the back rarely happened wasn't necessarily the backline's fault.
Rather, it was more likely that the second-line players who should be receiving forward passes were the problem.
They had to be in positions to receive passes before anyone could give them.
Therefore, if I couldn't find an opening, this situation would inevitably become deadlocked.
To top it off, I was the odd one out.
If there was a problem with the second-line players' movements, was it more likely to be the existing starters' fault, or the fault of me, the outsider who had just been thrown in?
Obviously, the second one.
Even if that weren't actually the case, it would be easy to be seen that way.
In short, every time a lateral or backward pass was made, I was the one who grew most anxious.
I had to find the correct position even a second sooner and be there.
A position close to the answer wouldn't do.
As a reserve, I had to pick only the perfectly correct answer.
The one fortunate thing was that I had been watching from the outside and had already done some problem-solving in advance.
First, the solution began with dragging my marker around to open up space.
*Tat-tat-tat-!*
I boldly abandoned the forward's area and dropped into midfield.
Glancing back, I saw the marker following me as well.
I could see him hesitate slightly, as if wondering why he had to man-mark someone like me when I wasn't even Gino.
Ignoring him, I continued dropping and positioned myself among our midfielders.
Now, I had drawn one defender down, creating space in the opponent's half.
Now someone needed to exploit that space...
“Space! Go in!”
As expected of the first-team kids.
Without me having to say anything, one of the midfielders beside me was already running forward.
From here on out, it became a puzzle-solving game.
They couldn't leave the player running into the empty space alone, so someone would have to move.
Then the position that 'someone' had been guarding would become empty again, and another teammate would take it.
As this chain of interlocking movements continued, a gap would inevitably appear.
But the important thing wasn't predicting that a gap would appear; it was predicting where that gap would appear.
*Tat-tat-tat-!*
I too kept moving, constantly surveying my surroundings.
At the same time, I moved pieces in my head and ran simulations.
Running simulations like that... finally, the moment I finished calculating.
*Tat-tat-tat-!*
I ran toward the left half-space.
If my calculations were correct, the left side was where a free situation would eventually arise.
And for the ball to be fed into that space, it had to go through the left midfield.
That was why I was sprinting to the left.
If my calculations weren't wrong, the ball would come this way.
Had I really chosen the correct answer?
*Thwack-!*
It was coming.
The ball was coming.
Finally, a forward pass had been played, and it was heading toward me.
For now, I had chosen correctly.
But it was too early to celebrate.
I was nothing more than a stepping stone.
I still had the duty to pass the ball quickly and accurately toward the final target.
As the pass came toward me, I had been facing our own goal.
*Bwooom-!*
I struck the ball without stopping it, bending it around.
A piercing pass toward the left side.
My calculations were already complete, and the marker was still trailing behind me.
There was no time to trap it.
*Swoooosh-*
My pass stretched out to the left.
Without even time to admire it, I ran again.
My job wasn't over just because I had connected the pass.
I was a striker, after all. I had to penetrate toward the box until the very end.
However, since heading wasn't my strong suit, I had to run toward a position where I could receive a cutback.
“Hoo, hoo!”
I exhaled heavily and ran, gritting my teeth.
Truthfully, my feet weren't moving the way I wanted.
My damn trash stamina was a problem, but perhaps I had used my brain too much in such a short time; I even felt dizzy.
But I could keep running.
Because first—
*Thwack-!*
—the fact that my pass had accurately reached its target and created a wide-open chance gave me strength.
More than anything... the fear that if I stopped here, all the lies I had told Jiu might be exposed was what made my legs move.
Oh, man.
Who knew lies could be this terrifying.
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