Getting a standing ovation from a crowd had always been reserved for excellent performances, club legends retiring, club legends leaving, and for players that have left a mark.
Blaise Atkinson clapped his hands to the beautiful show of support his home youth league crowd gave him after being substituted in the 80th minute. He always loved ovations like these, since it made him feel like he was loved, and treasured. He also caught a glimpse of his father at the stands, giving him a thumbs up and a creepy grin on his face.
Walking to the sidelines, his mind wandered off to the rapturous ovation of his legendary super sub free kick winner in the World Cup Final. The sparkle in his eyes had never been brighter, as the thousands of camera lights flashed, the fans from multiple countries chanted his name, and through the delirious clapping that mesmerized his ears.
It's kind of bonkers for him to be comparing the greatest day of his career— the one that catapulted him to superstardom— to a youth league game ovation he's getting now. But hey, in this life, this was his first one.
Although he's sure it's not going to be the last.
Blaise finally exited the pitch, leaving behind a trio of assists in another stellar game for him.
Young Callum grabbed the third goal. Blaise once again showed his remarkable vision and passing range with a beautiful long ball from their own half to the Millwall final third, finding a darting Rowe run by the right sideline.
Rowe cut inside at the most opportune moment, leaving the defender second guessing at where the small man went. And from an acute angle, the academy youngster struck it with power that should not exist in a body like his.
***
"Mr. Atkinson! Can I crash at your—" Terry waved his hands at the middle aged man and spoke.
"No!" The Atkinsons interrupted him without holding back. Blair Atkinson didn't want this plague entering his house ever again, and Blaise doesn't want that madman to spoil what had been a great day.
"Uhh… sir… can I go to your place?" The meek voice of Callum came after he raised his hands to speak. "You're going to celebrate your promotion, right?"
A lot of eyes suddenly shifted Blaise Atkinson's way.
He cursed Callum on his head.
"HAHA… yes…" Blaise gave a dry laugh, as his teammates slowly but surely crept their way closer to him as if wanting to join in the fun. "Fuck! I know what you punks are thinking!"
Father Atkinson's cooking mastery was tested by the entirety of Sheffield youth team that night, as he cooked and sent out dish, after dish, after dish like a conveyor belt.
Blaise meanwhile, hid the pictures of his mom from the rowdy cast of teenage boys, avoiding the consequences of leaving her smashing looks out there in the open. Before also removing all the alcoholic drinks in the fridge and storing it somewhere out of reach of anyone. He then joined in the childish, yet nostalgic, fun his teammates are having.
It was a wild night for the Sheffield Under 18s.
***
The next day.
There was a somber mood in the Under 18s training pitch early in this overcast morning.
No one is focused on the light morning drills and warm ups anymore. That doesn't mean they're not doing it, it's just that… their best player will leave this small youth team training pitch for the greener grass of the first team training pitch. How could they focus?
Only the duo of Blaise Atkinson and Cameron Okojo had the focus and work ethic to still train seriously like it's no big deal. Terry Quinn, and Callum Rowe were lagging a bit behind the two, while murmuring to themselves how these two guys could still be serious.
For one, Terry knew that Blaise wasn't affected by any of these sentimental nonsense. He said last night that he would most likely still play with them on some days for game time. It's just that he won't train with them together anymore…
Plus, well Cameron… about him… he also said last night that he had asked the coaching staff to let him learn the ropes of being a center attacking midfielder. Which the coaching staff without any surprises agreed on, as Okojo broadening his horizons would be nothing but a great thing for him and the team in the longer term.
So he's dead focused on filling the gap.
Whether that gamble will go Cameron's way, Terry had no idea.
"Let's take this thing seriously now, kiddo." Terry Quinn sighed, before his figure sped past and caught up with the two at the front of the group. He's aware that it's his responsibility to move forward, as a football player, and as a dreamer.
Near the benches on the sideline, Under 18s boss Ryan Cassidy and first team manager Steve Bronson are conversing. They're talking about last night's set of results, which ended up as vital wins for the two.
Bronson was also focused on Blaise Atkinson's performance last night in particular.
His coaches had said that he was phenomenal on the defensive midfielder position, for a player who'd started playing that role for a few games. His passing range was extraordinary for someone his age, along with his vision, that they concluded would be great even by League One standards.
The one thing that concerned the coaches was that one instance with his right foot…
Well, that's a bridge he'll cross when they get there.
He looked at his new hot prospect with discerning eyes. He first looked at the face that could carry the hopes of a club, and won't be out of place as a protagonist in teenage movie flicks. He then looked at his confident stance, sported by many of football's biggest names. Bronson was satisfied with this gem just from looking at him alone.
The youth manager called out his lads for a huddle. Most of them looked a little lethargic, hadn't even broken a sweat from all the unfocused casual jogging they did. Only four people looked drenched and determined.
Bronson was glad the lad he's picking up was among the four. He took a quick look at the other three and made a mental note of their appearances before he started talking on behalf of the youth manager.
"I have always envisioned my team to be a team filled with academy graduates, or players that are promoted from the youth teams." He looked at each and every one of the youths in attendance. "If I could avoid signing players for the first team via transfers and just promote youth players, I will not miss the opportunity to do just that."
The first team manager beckoned for Blaise Atkinson, who's standing at the far back of the group, to come forward beside him.
"This guy right here, is no academy graduate, as you all know. He's an exit trialist; that one of our scouts had taken an interest in, so we brought him in."
'Where is the manager going with this? He should just get Blaise already.' Ryan was stumped.
"What did he do in the youth leagues and for this team?" He pointed at one of the lads at the front.
"Uhh… dominate?"
"Score goals!"
"Show off! That guy showed off a lot!" Terry squealed.
"He showed skill that was already beyond this level." Cameron gave his astute answer.
"We got where his talents took us." Callum slowly said.
Steve Bronson's eyes took a ponder, before his determined voice echoed through the overcast morning.
"If you ever want a shot at the first team, you should take the chance left by this guy beside me. Take the chance to make a change at this team. Take your skill, and this team to the next level. Make the youth leagues your playground. Show me where your talents can take you and your team!"
Cameron Okojo turned around almost rudely and started jogging with more passion than ever. He will for sure not miss the opportunity to take the leap.
The next to be promoted would be me!
Terry Quinn and his vibrant eyes followed suit. He also would like to take the challenge of leading this team and rising to the first team, even if he had to take some of his principles to the test.
The young Callum Rowe pulled his journal at the back of his shorts, and wrote three words; Make a change. Before he followed the two.
The manager liked what he saw, as the Under 18s dispersed one by one, wearing different expressions. He hoped many of these youths would follow through and not give up.
Blaise took this moment to shout at the top of his lungs, directed to whoever heard it.
"You silly wankers! Get up to the first team! See you there! I'll be waiting!"