Oliver Smith was always overlooked.
He thought that some of it was because of his name that was as common as they come, and some of it was generally because of relatively ordinary looks, playstyle, personality, his mediocre talent, and his almost nonexistent presence.
He can play multiple positions from as deep as defensive midfield, central midfield, attacking midfield and to the striker role at a competent level. Not the best, but at the very least average.
Today, he's playing a more advanced playmaker role in a midfield duo. Oliver, or Ollie, as the members of the team call him, knows that he isn't the real playmaker here. He knows he's in this role just to complement the shining star of their team by doing the dirty work. Someone that he believes is likelier to break into the first team later this year than him ever breaking through at all.
He advanced into the final third, while glancing back a few times to look at their eye of the howling storm: Blaise Atkinson.
When he came in, the team dramatically changed for the better. And for a rotation player with dim prospects like him, he's both a godsend and a curse. He was so good he could flip games on its head, but he was so good that he automatically occupies one spot in the starting eleven. Which means less opportunities for the average joes like him.
'Fuck! Why are you sending it my way!' Ollie was puzzled when instead of going by himself, Blaise sent the ball to his direction.
He came to meet the ball, and realized… 'Where the fuck is the guy marking me?'
Right before he turned back towards the goal, he managed to catch one last look at Atkinson.
He's double teamed. That's why he sent the ball to me… why am I surprised?
As if fate had finally smiled upon him, when he saw what's in front of him, he shivered in delight. It was only the keeper left. The defenders are covering the flanks, and the closest central defender was sucked in by the lone forward, which was someone Ollie was also a bit envious of.
"This is my chance to shine!"
At the last moment, even with his mind focused on the rare chance, he managed to avoid the last ditch effort of the defender that had caught up from the side.
He then struck it like his entire footballing life depended on it and what its results would be.
The strike was neither fast nor powerful, but instead it had a surprising amount of finesse.
The ball missed the goalkeeper's outstretched arms, and nestled comfortably at the back of the net.
"FUCK YEAH!" Ollie jumped up and down like a man possessed in celebration for this unlikely goal of his. This was the very first time he scored a goal after graduating from the Sheffield Blades academy, and he did it in such an intense derby game at that!
The bloke was in cloud nine.
Ollie can't help but thank Blaise Atkinson's gravitational pull that afforded him enough free space to get off a shot. He was skeptical at first, but now, he had nothing to say but his sincere gratitude.
"Thanks for the pass, Blaise!"
"That should have gone my way." Cameron jumped at the back of Ollie. "If only he saw me."
"Now, now. I am not a legendary playmaker... yet!" Blaise slapped the ecstatic man's back. "That was a nicely placed finish though!"
"Congrats brother!"
"Nice goal, you fuck!"
"I know you had it in you, Ollie!"
The boys of Sheffield went up 1-0 after that Oliver Smith goal in the 26th minute. Having lost one of their starting central midfielders and their starting center back to suspensions following their red cards against Crystal Palace, this could be considered a fantastic scoreline for them in Cassidy's eyes.
Sure, he may have said those words in the dugout earlier, but he knows it's a tall task to ask for his team to win this game.
But now? Not anymore.
He forgot that he has a talent that is out of place in the under 18 ranks, that can flip the game at its head with just a single moment of inspiration. He now had a goal lead, and he'd be lying if he said he's not expecting at least another one.
His faith had been rewarded as if his mind was read by the players.
A quick, short passing play found Terry Quinn on the right with room to run. The number of passes in succession continued rising without any interruption nor challenge from the Leeds defense. The number of boos too rose from the dissatisfied home stand, but it's not directed to the away fans, rather, it's for their own team that looked powerless.
After the ball got back to Quinn near the right side corner flag, he crossed the ball high and fast into the penalty box. It was headed out, albeit somewhat tame, by the Leeds center back outside the box.
With so many bodies in the box, there's no way someone can score from a half volley in that range anyway so it's gonna be alright…
At least that's what Leeds were thinking…
Blaise was surprised no one from Leeds followed up on that badly cleared ball, especially with this one falling just outside the box.
If they don't want to follow up, then I'll make them regret not doing so!
As a defensive midfielder, he rarely ventured this deep in the opponent's half. If he does, it's mostly as a ball carrier, or on set pieces, or arriving late to recycle possession.
He's here just to recycle possession and keep the attack from going bust. But now, a golden opportunity for a goal fell to his unassuming feet.
He struck it with his left foot on the half-volley, taking the Leeds players off-guard. Blaise saw that his rocket of a strike hit a Leeds player in a weird area before going out of bounds…
The hands of several Sheffield players in the vicinity rose up in quick succession.
"It's a penalty!"
"Ref, it's a handball!"
The referee, who's also just outside the box, saw it with clarity. It's a penalty indeed. He pointed to the spot after whistling for handball. He called out the unlucky defender whose arm was hit, and showed him a yellow card.
Just a minute later, Blaise stepped up for the penalty he won.
Blaise struck the ball, as the concert of boos in the crowd reached its melodious peak.
On Blaise's face was a wicked grin, as the concert of boos in the crowd vanished, and then replaced by a hushed, and cruel silence.