August 3rd.
The humid air of summer was blowing through the city of Sheffield. It was the middle of summer now, and the four divisions directly below the Premier League in the English football pyramid will hold their season openers tomorrow night.
As such, there is both a tense and excited atmosphere in and around Bramall Lane. It was even more pronounced on the training grounds.
The day was about to die down, and the floodlights were already on. The last day of training was mostly pre-match team talks, tactical arrangements for game day, and some light training to keep the players' bodies in optimal condition.
Most of the first team are inside the video room, watching the tape of tomorrow's opponents, which unsurprisingly was their play-off opponent last year— Wimbledon.
A fellow former Premier League team that has fallen through the divisions, but are now regaining their steam and ambition.
Both teams are solid preseason picks to get back to the playoffs and maybe get promoted to the second tier. Since both have retained most of their players from their last years' playoff runs and have added key rotation pieces in positions of need.
They're gonna face off again a few months after Wimbledon ended Sheffield's hopes of reaching the playoff final.
On the pitch, the other players of the club— back ups and youth players, continue with their respective methods of cooling down, and ending this light training day.
The merry band of three youth prospects— Atkinson, Okojo, and Quinn— was already talking about their respective predictions for tomorrow's game.
"Loss. We lost to them last year, and we didn't change that much." A straightforward yet pessimistic opinion from Cam. "Just 1-0 though."
"It surely has to be a draw. It has to be! We're strong, and they're strong!" Terry even raised a finger in each of his hands. "1-1. They score early, and then we rally, until a beautiful stretch of football by our seniors leads to an equalizer!"
"You should have some faith, young men. Of course it's gonna be a win!" Blaise has no idea how this game turned out in his first life, but it surely won't hurt to believe in his own team. "2-0 mates. You heard it here first. We'll win in comfortable fashion."
The trio defended their opinions with enthusiasm, until it reached a point where their fellow teammates in the youth team had also chimed in and given their honest opinions and predictions about tomorrow's opener.
"We won't lose at the very least!"
"No, no, no! We're not ready for strong opponents this early!"
"The hell? You call yourselves Sheffield players, huh? Of course we'll win, donkeys!"
The loud bunch of youth players also caught the attention of the first team reserves. A few of them approached the youngsters with fierce eyes, seemingly annoyed at the ruckus this late on the day.
"Oy, oy, oy! What's the hot topic in here, kids! You're too damn loud!" The one that spoke was one of the team's older players, a guy with a full beard on. "Care to share it with us old guys?"
"Mister Potts, they're playing around with predictions!" Blaise was surprised about Alain Prosser's very familiar way of speaking toward Potts, and the fact that he's here instead of in the video room. He's already thinking about what sort of connections these two have off the pitch. "We'll win, right Mr. Potts?"
"Oh. Of course we'll win. You don't know how strong those arseholes are when they're serious." He stroked his beard as he thought of what to say next. "Well… you should have an idea, but I implore you to not underestimate your senior team."
The slight nods and smiles from the other backups reaffirmed the stances of the other backups.
Now, the clamor was gone, and was replaced by faithful glances from the other youth.
"That's our ex-captain and icon for ya." Terry, a born and raised member of Blades, knew more of the in's and out's.
"Oh? He's the ex-captain?" Blaise had no idea.
"Yeah. He's a legendary son of the club, and the last player still in the club from our last Premier League season eleven years ago." Terry's eyes were filled with awe and pride. He was but a young boy when he watched the club at its peak from the stands of Blade Lane.
And that man was there, as one of the club's key players.
"Shame though, he's thirty eight now. He doesn't have the pace to keep up." As a fellow Sheffield native, Cam also knew his stuff. "He's still pretty good for this division though, what with all the experience and skill he got from the higher divisions."
"He's a midfielder, I reckon?" Blaise mysteriously asked out of the blue.
"Yeah… he's a defensive midfielder in general. We don't play it usually in manager's formations… so coupled with his age, he just doesn't play much anymore." Terry's eyes became teary at the current treatment of one of his club's heroes.
"Don't tell me you want to learn from him?" As if he knew how Blaise's mind worked, Cam's blunt question caught Blaise off guard.
"Why not? He's basically a godlike existence here! Won't it benefit me?"
"You can't just go in and ask for him to take you in!"
***
It's game day.
The club staff was assembled at the sidelines of the training pitch. Every single player contracted by the team was gathered up in the middle of the pitch, alongside the coaching staff.
The light conditioning and strategy training by the club for today's game was already done earlier in the morning.
Right now, Sheffield manager Steve Bronson was holding a piece of paper. He moved back a little away from the players and straightened his polo shirt.
"Today, we embark on yet another season of football. This year is a little more special than the last." He abruptly stopped and had a coughing fit, lightening up the mood. "Damn that cough, it's ruining a special day. Anyway, this year, we aim for outright promotion to the Championship."
The shock in the faces of the club staff behind him, and the youth players behind the first teamers, was palpable. They didn't expect that the manager would aim that high especially with what the team's relative inactivity in the current transfer window.
"Now, don't be shocked, everyone. I think it's about time this club aimed for the Championship. Our ascent this past half-decade was gradual, our steps were steady, allowing us to consolidate and strengthen ourselves to fight better against this division. This year though, is different." Bronson's eyes peeked through every single player's eyes during his small pause.
"What's different is that, I believe that this squad has outgrown this division and is ready for the next level."
Blaise's ears perked up.
"I believe we can take this division by storm…" He decisively crumpled the paper into a ball and looked into every player's eyes with an expectant gaze.
"So help me make it happen."
The players' tension was dissolved into a torrent of determination and swirling motivation by the gaffer's pep talk.