"Nine goals, my friend. Nine." Terry Quinn repeated Blaise's words at the start of the half in a teasing tone while cooling down.
"Fuck you." A two word reply and a hit to the head was all Terry got in return. "You promised to help me! And all you had was that single lucky goal?"
"Lucky? That's pure skill for you! What luck? I don't even know what the hell luck is!" Terry tried to save his face. "And I helped you! I scored one! Isn't that enough help?"
"Did the two of you say that you wanted to come back from 9 down?" Cam once again snuck up from behind them to rub salt on their wounds. "Are you two insane?"
"Fuck you too! Your crosses are complete ass!" Blaise can't help but display his childish behavior against these two. "How many times did you give the keeper the ball straight from a cross?"
"Can't help it. They're strong. I felt pressure, you know?"
The game ended 10-2. The last few minutes of the game was the most fun the reincarnated Blaise had playing football in the last few years. He ran wild, lost possession, dived into tackles, and got tackled hard.
Everyone thought that the training match was done when Blaise unleashed a last ditch half volley rocket from 25 yards out to close the game with a bang.
He was happy to have found another reason to do better in this life.
"Don't you think we did well? We basically won against them in the second half!" Blaise threw a fact at their faces.
"They're not even taking the game seriously!" Terry groaned.
"We aren't even on their radar, you idiot." Cam hollered.
"At least we showed the first team, and the boss, what we're made of, yeah?" His mischievous grin made the two beside him realize the fact. "We made them know us, and that's more than enough this time."
***
Two weeks later...
As the calendar neared the end of July, teams all around the Football League began making their final moves to improve their respective rosters. That's because the league season will begin next Sunday, just six days away.
In the city of Sheffield, a young man in a hoodie jacket was being followed by two people in suits.
He has huge headphones underneath the hood of his jacket, a small gaming console on his hand, and a large pair of circular framed glasses. His slouched posture, and nerdy look shouldn't ever scream a high caliber young football player, and yet…
"Are you sure this loan can give him more chances than he would have at Stamford Bridge?" The man in a three-piece suit said to the shorter man beside him.
"Yes. In fact, our team wanted to play him as a key central midfielder. As you should know, we use a two central midfielder system, so we have ample space for him to feature. Plus, he has the skills, and qualities we're looking for in a player we want." The shorter, pot-bellied man was confident in his loan signing.
"Alright. The paperwork was finalized by his parent club anyway, so he's gonna be in your care for a whole year. I hope you honor your promises for his loan." The taller man was the young footballer's agent, and he's the one responsible for the player's non-football affairs, allowing him to focus on his play.
Loan moves can be summarized in one word: rental.
These are moves that younger players, and sometimes out of rotation older players, partake in to gain more playing time, or match experience on a loan club, that their parent clubs can't give in the meantime.
This is, for the most part, a mutually beneficial deal for the three parties involved.
The player involved would be able to play regular football in an appropriate level of competition, and see gradual improvement because of the matches.
The loan team would gain a player they need for a certain amount of time without any cost besides a portion of the player's wages, that they would usually never manage to sign without opening their wallets.
The parent club would be able to help their hot prospect be ready for the future with either the club or elsewhere. And if it's an older player, a lifeline out of the club— either to secure a better transfer or better situation elsewhere.
"We're here now, Alain, time for your medical." The agent lightly tapped his young client's shoulders.
"Huh? Can I just finish this game? I can't pause this. Please, mister." The young lad didn't even bother removing his headphones as he pleaded. He also didn't even look at his agent.
"You should tell that to the man who brought you here."
The young man relented after that. He sulked yet still closed his portable console and embarked on a series of physical and medical tests for the club to know if the player has any medical or physical issues before completing his loan move.
To be honest, this youngster does not care much about a lot of things. There's only three things he cared about.
First, is playing football. It doesn't matter much to him if he played Sunday League, Semi-Pro, or at the Premier League, as long as he plays the sport he always loved.
Second, is playing games. It doesn't matter much to him if he played on consoles, phones, or computers. He just wanted to play games alongside football.
Third, was his mom. The person who cared about him the most. The person that always believed in him. His biggest reason for entering the football world.
He doesn't care about anything else aside from these three.
"Your physical shape is fantastic based on the tests. Our team doctors also found out that you have no hidden injuries or illnesses. They are glad to give you a clean bill of health to complete your loan move here." The club chief operating officer announced.
Alain didn't respond. He's engrossed at what he's doing in his console. He needed a small slap on the back from his agent, and only then did he remove the headphones on his ears.
"Oh… uhhh… what's happening…" He was a little taken aback that a lot of old people were in front of him without him noticing. "Hi… uhm… I didn't do anything bad…"
"Let me repeat what I said again. Your physical shape is tip-top, and you don't have any hidden medical issues, so we can complete the transfer in the immediate future."
"Nice! That's uhhh… great! Thanks for having me here! Please... let me play league games!" He stuttered his way to finishing his statement, making it known that he wasn't the kind of player good at speaking.
As the League One season got ever closer to the start, many pundits believed that Sheffield went another level stronger.