17th August.
The city of Sheffield on a Saturday morning is more or less the same as on weekdays. There're less commuters on the streets, but they are replaced by droves of people in their casual and less formal wear. But today should be different, cause today is a derby day.
Blaise got out of the train station in his usual Blades' training jacket and pants with another youngster barely reaching his shoulders. He's scribbling on a small notebook as he avoided the foot traffic without any trouble.
Blaise found out that he's a Sheffield academy player a week ago in training. The coach welcomed a new batch of under 18 eligible players to the team exactly one week ago. This short lad is part of those new academy players.
"Oy, stop writing so much while walking!" Blaise looked back as the guy behind him was like a creepy nerd writing. "Or is that part of your daily training routine? Avoiding people while writing and walking?"
He thought it made sense, since the youngster whose name he found out as Callum Rowe was avoiding the pedestrians with ease even with his focus on writing.
"Yes, sir. I kind of realized how much it makes me more alert to my surroundings and makes my movements more slippery." He's still writing while walking and talking. "So it's kind of become a part of my daily commute now."
"Don't sir me. I'm just a year older than you."
As the two neared the team facility, Callum asked a question. "Sir, have you experienced a derby game before?"
The question made Blaise's prominent angular jawline twitch as a rush of memories flooded into him and evoked a multitude of emotions within him.
The unhinged emotions, the audacious spirit, the unwavering faith, and the delirious screaming in the stands.
All of it he's experienced and more.
As if taking Blaise's silence as a queue, Callum hastily said. "I'm sorry for intruding on your personal experiences sir…"
"You aren't intruding…" Blaise started with a huge sigh. "I did participate in the Manchester juniors derby last season."
The two walked into the Under 18s training pitch together, and sat down at one part of the pitch, before Blaise regaled his junior with his bittersweet tales from his two experiences of the Manchester derby last year. He noticed that he can remember it in exquisite detail, probably owing to the fact that this body of course had the memories of the 17 year old him.
The short 16 year old's shaking was visible, as Blaise relived the intensity and passion of both matches. Blaise acted out his free kick winner of the first derby, drawing expressions of admiration from the youngster.
Within the next few minutes, Callum's face twisted into a different expression.
Blaise was now telling him about the return fixture he wanted to forget. Callum rued how his senior missed a wide open net after the keeper failed to get the ball in his own box. He also felt a surge of negative emotions when Blaise told him he missed the equalizing penalty. Adding insult to injury, Blaise was sent off for a bad tackle inside the box, giving up another penalty goal in the process.
Callum both experienced the sheer ecstasy of scoring a winner in a rivalry match, and the pits of hell after a calamitous implosion on the second Manchester youth derby. He also lamented how Blaise went from hero in the first game to a zero (more like a negative, in his opinion) on the other.
He's pumped. He now wants to be a part of the derby game more than ever. He wants to experience the reverie of fighting off against the club's local, and historic rival.
The appearance of Blaise's two buddies, Cameron and Terry, ended Callum's daydream.
"Yo, my short bro." Terry instantly wrapped his arms around Callum's shoulder. "Ready for tonight's derby?"
"Yes! Thanks to sir Blaise my mind is fully ready!" Callum bowed like an awkward anime character.
"Blaise is no sir." Cam was unhappy that Blaise is making Callum call him sir, and is now glaring daggers at him. It's just that things like this are against his principles. "Go now, Rowe."
Their junior member had left to join up with his fellow academy players, while Cam folded both his arms on his chest and looked at Blaise as if asking for an explanation.
Blaise had no idea what this guy is on about. Is it the 'sir' thing? I don't even want him calling me that!
"Drop that mate. Blaise was as uneasy as you when he's called sir." Terry's inference made Blaise smile.
What a reliable brother!
"Terry's right. I kept on telling the guy every time not to call me sir. I'm not a damn knight!"
The folded muscular arms of Cam finally fell back down to his sides. "Fine."
The trio talked a little more until the balding youth manager Cassidy eventually arrived with a notebook in hand. He called on his boys to huddle in the bleachers for some final team preparations before they face their crosstown rivals later.
***
Cameron breathed in the air he's oh so familiar with. He lived in one of the residential areas in the northwest of Sheffield, just a few blocks away from Sheffield Sunday's legendary stadium. His mom, dad, grandparents, and every close relative of his was born and raised as a Sheffield Sunday fan.
Now, he's playing for the team they oh so despised.
Blaise put his hands at the shoulders of his friend and gave him a smile. "Feeling the heat?"
Terry put his hands on the other shoulder. "Is Mr. Focus feeling emotional coming back to your academy ground?"
"Shut up. My family will watch as Sheffield Sunday supporters…" The revelation shocked both of them silly. "How can I not feel the heat?"
The three of them reached the center of the field alongside the other 8 of the starting 11. On the opposite side of the referees, 11 teenagers wearing the Sheffield sky blue uniforms held their heads high.
A few of them though, were stealing glances at Cameron, who's currently wearing the captain's armband just for a single reason alone: He's a Sheffield Sunday academy graduate that's gonna be a pretty good target of their rivals' aggression.
"Pal, are you ready to destroy your old mates?" Blaise riled him up. "We're ready when you are."
Cameron's eyes had finally lost its rare uncertainty, and replacing it was the teenager's unbreakable iciness.
"I'm always ready."
He licked his lips.