All the extra hours on the field and in the gym are paying off. I’ve got jets on my feet. New moves in my playbook. I’ve never been fitter. And it shows.
I got the ball rolling with Danny and Julio. Now it’s time to bring in the rest of the team. I work with new partners at every practice, pumping up their confidence, figuring out how to get them the ball, talking it over after.
It comes together, bit by bit. Before long, we kick serious butt. We start to hold our shape again and score more goals. It’s a team effort.
Well, mostly. No point getting Gil involved. He’s not a team player, on the field or off. He hardly says a word to anyone but Alex. Even then, Alex does most of the talking.
Alex is G.I. Joe’s new BFF. They eat together, hang out together, sit on the bus together.
All the stuff my brother used to do with me.
I’ve got more important things to do. I watch game films in my spare time for fresh ideas. Our games and first-team games, as well as the best teams in history. Man U with van der Sar between the pipes. Barca. Real Madrid. Bayern Munich.
I study how soccer’s best playmakers get the job done. I take apart their attacks, replaying them again and again. I want to think like Fàbregas. Challenge like Yaya Touré. Sometimes Coach watches with me. I ask him questions, and he always asks a few of his own. He adds names to my watch list too—Xavi, Iniesta and Pirlo.
But today he has more on his mind than game films. He pulls up a chair and sits across from me.
“You said you were looking for answers last month. Well, lad, my eye’s been on you ever since. I’ve never seen you put forth so much effort. You’re not just playing faster. You’re playing smarter.”
“Thanks, Coach. I’m doing my best.” I smile to myself. He never misses a thing.
“It shows. Your initiative on the attack is changing how we play. I like it. I’d like to bump you up to mid sometimes. Give you better opportunities to score. What do you think?”
“That would be great!” I’d call the shots, right in the heart of the game.
He purses his lips for a moment. “You know, I always thought you held back a wee bit with Jonesy. But you’ve really stepped it up since he left. You’re bringing the other lads along for the ride too. That kind of team leadership will get us to the playoffs. It might get you to first team someday. Or to coach.”
I should be proud, but I feel a little guilty. I didn’t come up with this plan because Jonesy left. Not exactly.
“However…”
Uh-oh.
“Whatever’s between you and Gil”—Coach leans forward—“work it out. We’re fighting two other teams for those playoff spots. Every win counts. Maybe every goal.” He wags his finger at me. “And every player too. So keep your personal issues off the pitch and off the scoreboard.”
I’ll do my best, but Coach doesn’t understand how personal it is. I can’t leave Gil at the field. Alex brings him home.
Not physically. Not yet anyway. But he talks about him. Asks me to hang out with them. Tells me I should be nicer.
Nicer. Like he’s my mother. Like I’m the bad guy.
Playing the good captain makes him suck as a brother. So yeah. It’s personal.
Good thing my workouts keep me so busy.
Good thing I met Luka.