15th of July 2013
The reincarnated Blaise Atkinson arrived in front of the Sheffield Blades complex an hour before the start of his first ever training session with his new club, and his reincarnated body. His anticipation was high, albeit the fact that he himself can't deny that he can beat the star player of Blades in a one versus one right now.
'This is a League One club after all, I should make my thinking relative to this league.'
He retooled his thinking to the appropriate level of skill and technique. He's played in this league in his past life, and he knew that a lot of players here can be of the same level of athleticism as the top divisions, but most aren't on the same level in terms of skill, and technique.
He knows that to get up there in the divisions, a skill that could be effective there was needed. But as a former prodigy, he also knew that having solid technique, and skill is the way forward.
Technique he lacked in his first life.
Again, the word lacked is relative here. If you compared him to Championship (Second Division) players in terms of technique, he'll still be elite. But if you throw the past Blaise into the pit that was the Premier League… and as a central midfielder at that?
The difference is disheartening.
He knew that the reason he reached and lasted at the top for almost a decade was his set piece prowess. He was always the first choice when it came to free kicks close to the box. He always was first choice when it came to penalty kicks.
He was that good at it.
The team he played in overlooked all his glaring weaknesses just for the few times he could try and get goals via his specialties.
Now, given a second chance at life, he'll hone his skills to a level he only dreamed of before.
'It all starts here.' Taking a deep breath, backpack in tow, Blaise entered the grounds with his arms wide.
Bam!
He promptly got hit by a stray ball in the face, knocking him off his feet.
"Fuck!" He touched his sorry nose for signs of bleeding. "Where'd that ball come from?"
"Oh… hey there mate, apologies for that. No ill intent on it." A small, tanned man with a happy aura rocking a Sheffield training jersey stretched out his hand in apology. "Name's Quinn— Terry Quinn… just a youth player, so please… I'm really sorry."
"I'm new here… so it's fine. Blaise Atkinson, a new youth player too." Blaise wore a friendly smile on his face. "We might be teammates from now on, so I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, mate."
'Now this is a name I can remember. Terry Quinn started here too huh.' His inner self was smiling like a man with ulterior motives.
"Yo, Terry what's taking so long…" The sentence was left hanging as the speaker's eyebrows knitted. "You're Blaise Atkinson, right?"
A man also on a Sheffield training jersey, with his lean frame, and dark skin came in with a questioning look. Of course, Blaise was also shocked to see him here, knowing his academy background.
"Why the fuck are you here?" Both Blaise and the newcomer asked each other in concert.
"Well… you two seem to have a history together… hmmm… let's see… when did you two break up?" Terry asked with a straight face.
The man on the Sheffield trainers gave him the middle finger, while Blaise didn't even react to the question.
"Bah. Two killjoys. We already have Cameron, and now even you, Blaise? No fun." Terry sighed before he walked away grumbling.
Well… the two didn't even bat an eye.
"Yo, Cam. Fancy seeing you here. I never thought you'd even think of going here."
"Based on what? My Sheffield Sunday roots? That's irrelevant."
"As brutally honest as ever eh? Well, whatever floats your boat. We'll be teammates again anyway."
"What? You also got a contract?" Okojo even covered his mouth in apparent shock.
"Hey now! I performed way better than you! You got a contract, and so should I!"
"You performed better than me? Dream on."
"You…!" The 32 year old mind of Blaise ran out of words to use against this fellow.
***
It's the start of preseason in England.
Players come back from their vacations and start their training to return to playing fitness before the football season begins in August. This is the time for roster changes, roster battles, tactical adjustments, intense training, and friendly matches.
The English transfer window is already in full swing, bringing players from everywhere in the world to their new clubs in England. The clubs spend their cash on upgrading their team, filling in holes on their rosters, and to get new blood in their team.
As for the new bloods on their first training session…
"What's that? An intra-squad match?" Blaise can only hide the smile on his face upon knowing this revelation.
"Yeah, we of the under 18 youth squad, usually get battered by the senior team at the start of preseason. We're like their first punching bags, dare I say. It's tradition for us here in Blades." Terry, a homegrown Sheffield academy graduate explained. "We think of it as practical experience, but hehe… we got beat like 16-0 last year. We could probably make it 16-1 this year, with a Manchester grad like you."
"Let's dream big, brother. We'll beat them instead!" Blaise put his arms over his new friend's shoulders.
"Woah! I like that self-confidence! Seems like we have a winner here!"
"Beat them huh? How should we do that?" Cam came out of nowhere and snuck in the middle of the two, and put both his arms over the duo's shoulders.
"Hehe… now this is gonna be interesting."
The new youth team players have already been introduced to the team first thing in the morning. Blaise easily gathered the most attention, being a graduate of SC Manchester's fabled academy. Cameron too, got multiple glares, being a graduate of cross-town rivals Sheffield Sunday…
The early morning session consisted of a hell of a lot of warm-up exercises, and fitness drills. The youth team manager stressed the importance of regaining fitness more than anything else in preseason. He kept on repeating that it can make or break the start of the season.
As the day wore on, the tired faces of the youngsters started appearing one by one. Some were struggling for breath. But most, if not all, kept their energy reserves at an acceptable level in anticipation of the match with the senior team.
Blaise wasn't one of them though. He slogged it out the whole day, doing his best drill by drill by drill. He knows that stamina is something a midfielder should have an abundance of, and what better time to improve it than when he's still young. Though he's really just doing the tasks the most efficient way he knew.
"Brother, don't expend all your energy on the drills! That may cost you later!" Terry gave helpful advice from behind him.
"It's alright. I'm training my stamina above all else. A midfielder can only have more of it." The honest to goodness reply made Terry rethink his advice.
"Fine… Just don't collapse on us, alright? We need some top academy leadership later on!"
The friendly banter was interrupted by a loud whistle. It was the youth team coach.
The tired eyes of the youngsters either perked up, or narrowed. They know what will happen next.
The ass whooping.