Aymar Zambo stood by the wooden window in his modest office, gazing down at the training pitch where Pippo Glaviano led the morning session. The office itself was sparse, almost sterile, with little to reflect Aymar's ambition or personality. He disliked spending time there. The field was where he thrived—where ideas were tested, weaknesses exposed, and solutions forged.
Below, Pippo's whistle rang out as players drilled in carefully planned exercises. The session was focused and purposeful, a reflection of the tactical overhaul Aymar had set in motion. After the disappointment of the warm-up match and the internal rebellion he'd confronted head-on, Aymar knew the team needed more than discipline—it needed direction.
His tactical decision was bold: a 3-5-2 formation. While not the most popular system in 2006, with formations like the 4-4-2 and 4-2-3-1 dominating the footballing landscape, Aymar believed the 3-5-2 suited the unique blend of players in Verona's second team. The system's balance of defensive stability and attacking fluidity provided the best chance to maximize their strengths while masking their limitations.
The defense was anchored by Louis Hutt, the sole player in the backline whom Aymar trusted without reservation. Hutt's work ethic, positioning, and consistency made him indispensable. Though his skill set wasn't exceptional, his reliability provided a foundation upon which Aymar could build. Flanking him were two more center-backs—hardworking players who could cover the wingbacks when needed.
On the right flank, Gianluca Nicco played as the wingback, offering both defensive discipline and attacking width. Nicco's pace, stamina, and crossing ability made him a key part of Aymar's plans to stretch the field and provide an outlet for quick transitions.
In midfield, the trio of Mattia Cassani, Emanuele Torrisi, and another central player formed the core. Torrisi, a naturally defensive midfielder, was tasked with protecting the backline and breaking up opposition attacks. Cassani operated as the most advanced midfielder, playing just behind the forwards and making late runs into the box. The third midfielder complemented these two, focusing on linking defense to attack with short, incisive passes.
Aymar saw untapped potential in Torrisi. Limiting him to purely defensive duties would be a waste, given his ability to time forward runs and find space. "Torrisi can be more than just a defensive screen," Aymar murmured to himself. "He has the intelligence to adapt and contribute across the pitch."
Up front, Aymar deployed two strikers. He instructed them to crisscross and make runs designed to disrupt the opposition's defensive structure, creating gaps for Cassani to exploit. Their movement was crucial to breaking down tightly organized defenses.
As for the goalkeeper, the warm-up matches had confirmed Aymar's instincts: Luigi Sepe was his first choice. The young shot-stopper had proven himself in training and matches, displaying composure and athleticism beyond his years. Aymar trusted Sepe not only to guard the goal but also to initiate swift transitions with his sharp distribution.
This core—Cassani, Torrisi, Nicco, Hutt, and Sepe—formed the backbone of Aymar's vision. They embodied the discipline, loyalty, and hunger he needed to transform Verona's second team into something greater. He trusted them not just for their ability but for their commitment to the cause.
The pressing challenge remained: how to translate tactical intentions into training routines and, ultimately, mold these players into a cohesive, competitive team. Aymar knew his vision would mean nothing without execution.
But he wasn't without additional resources.
Activating the CoachMaster Guidance System, Aymar checked his status and was pleased to see his achievement points had risen to 20. He knew one point had come from completing the warm-up match, despite the loss. What puzzled him was the source of the second point.
After scanning through the system, the answer became clear: Louis Hutt. His favorability rating toward Aymar had exceeded 70. Additionally, Mattia Cassani and Luigi Sepe were now at 55, while Emanuele Torrisi and Gianluca Nicco hovered around 45.
"So, putting in the effort really pays off," Aymar murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. The thought of earning more points by strengthening relationships gave him a renewed sense of optimism.
Navigating to the store system, Aymar considered his options carefully. His attention focused on training enhancement scrolls, specifically the one-year double-growth scrolls that cost 5 points each. These scrolls would temporarily double a player's natural growth rate, helping them develop faster within the limits of their potential. However, the effect would expire after a year, returning the player to their usual pace of improvement.
Aymar's philosophy was clear: his tactics relied on balance and synergy. A single standout player wouldn't carry the team; he needed a core group to develop together. Squandering all his achievement points on one player wouldn't fit his approach. Instead, he decided to invest in three key players.
The chosen targets were Emanuele Torrisi, Gianluca Nicco, and Louis Hutt.
Torrisi: His defensive stability and ability to link play in midfield made him invaluable, but his growth needed a push to meet Aymar's tactical demands.
Nicco: As the right wingback, his stamina and crossing ability were critical, but improving his decision-making and positional awareness would elevate the team's overall performance.
Hutt: The anchor of the defense, Hutt was already the most reliable player in the backline. Enhancing his growth would solidify the team's foundation.
Aymar deliberately chose not to spend points on Mattia Cassani or Luigi Sepe. Cassani's current ability of 107 was already sufficient for the level of competition they faced, and his recent improvements suggested he would grow naturally without additional help. As for Sepe, while the goalkeeper position was crucial, Aymar felt the team's immediate priorities lay in midfield and defense.
He spent 15 achievement points, using one scroll for each of the three selected players. As he confirmed the purchases, Aymar couldn't help but glance out the window at the training session below. To his surprise, there was no visible difference in their performance. Torrisi, Nicco, and Hutt moved across the pitch as they always did, showing no immediate signs of improvement.
"Subtle," Aymar muttered, leaning back in his chair. The system's enhancements, while powerful, adhered to the natural rhythm of football. Growth wasn't instant or magical—it remained a process. "No shortcuts, huh? I suppose that's fair."
It dawned on him why the system was named the CoachMaster Guidance System. The tools were there to assist, not replace. Ultimately, the success or failure of the team rested on his shoulders. The system was a resource, but it was Aymar's decisions, leadership, and tactics that would define their future.
Satisfied for the moment, Aymar navigated to the mission system. Finding no new objectives, he sighed and closed the interface. There was still much to do, but for now, he needed to focus on integrating his tactical ideas into their training.
A sharp knock on the office door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in," Aymar called, his voice steady as he braced himself for whatever awaited him next.
When Aymar Zambo opened the door, he was surprised to find Giambattista Pastorello, the president of Hellas Verona, standing there. Aymar's first thought was whether Domenico Rinaldi had already gone to complain. He braced himself.
"May I have a word with you?" Pastorello asked, his tone neutral but firm.
Aymar nodded and stepped aside, gesturing for the chairman to enter. Once inside, Pastorello surveyed the modest office briefly before speaking.
"I've heard about Domenico Rinaldi," Pastorello began. "Don't worry—he hasn't come to me to complain. In fact, I doubt he would dare. But word travels fast in this club, and it's difficult for incidents like this to stay hidden."
Aymar remained quiet, watching Pastorello carefully. There was something in the chairman's tone—an unspoken reluctance. Pastorello's words seemed measured, almost as though he were forcing himself to say them.
"While I'm deeply dissatisfied with the performance in the warm-up match, I'm even angrier at the misconduct of Domenico and his accomplices. Their behavior was disgraceful, and your decision to expel them was justified. I'll personally handle the fallout with their families—you don't need to concern yourself with it."
Aymar blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't expected such direct support from Pastorello. The chairman's usual demeanor was cold and pragmatic, rarely extending to personal matters like this. But there was something else beneath the surface. Pastorello seemed reluctant, as if his support wasn't entirely his own decision.
Did someone intervene on my behalf? Aymar wondered.
His first thought was Pierino Fanna, the owner of the influential sports shop and a key figure in Verona. Fanna's reputation for advocating for young talents and supporting coaches like Aymar made him a likely candidate.
"In any case," Pastorello continued, his tone clipped, "focus on leading the team and improving results. That's what matters now. Good luck."
Without waiting for a response, Pastorello turned and left the office, his exit as brisk as his arrival.
Aymar stood there for a moment, processing the interaction. Though relieved by Pastorello's backing, he couldn't shake the sense that someone had pulled strings behind the scenes. Still, knowing he didn't have to worry about Domenico's meddling allowed him to focus entirely on the team.
With that thought, Aymar grabbed his jacket and headed for the training ground. He found Pierino Fanna observing the session from the sidelines.
"Thank you, Pierino," Aymar said directly, walking up to him.
Fanna turned, his expression calm but knowing. "Ah, you spoke with Giambattista, I take it?"
Aymar nodded. "He didn't say it outright, but I could tell you intervened. I appreciate it. Really."
Pierino waved a hand dismissively, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Don't thank me. I did it for Verona. The club can't afford to lose someone with your potential just because of petty internal politics. This team needs structure—and results—and you're the best chance they've got."
Aymar smiled back. "It still means a lot."
Pierino raised an eyebrow, his tone shifting slightly. "If you really want to thank me, there's something you can do for me."
"Name it," Aymar said without hesitation.
Pierino's smile widened. "Let me stand here on the sidelines, watching your sessions properly. No interruptions—just observing. Deal?"
Aymar raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. "Of course. But I might ask for your help."
Pierino laughed heartily, clapping Aymar on the shoulder. "Fair enough. Now, let's see what you've got planned for them today."
...
...
Two days later, Hellas Verona's second team traveled to face a fifth-tier amateur side on their home turf. The venue was humble—a park pitch with uneven grass and a scattering of wooden benches for the handful of spectators. Aymar Zambo sent out his strongest lineup, determined to test his players in a competitive setting. This time, there were no jeers or hostile crowds, only the quiet anticipation of a low-stakes friendly.
The opening minutes showcased the tactical adjustments Aymar had implemented. From the right wing, Gianluca Nicco surged forward, his pace unsettling the opposing fullback. In the 8th minute, Nicco cut inside, skipping past a desperate challenge before delivering a well-weighted cross into the box. Mattia Cassani timed his run perfectly, rising above his marker and smashing a header into the back of the net. Verona took the lead, 1-0.
The early goal emboldened Verona's midfield, particularly Emanuele Torrisi and Cassani, who began to dictate the tempo. However, their control wasn't flawless. A loose pass from Torrisi in the 20th minute allowed the opposition to launch a swift counterattack. Verona's defenders scrambled to recover, but a lapse in marking left the opposing striker free to slot the ball past Luigi Sepe. The match was tied, 1-1.
Aymar paced the sideline, his frustration evident. "Simplify the transitions!" he barked, urging his players to calm their passing game. The adjustments began to take effect, and Verona regained their composure.
As the first half neared its end, Verona carved out another opportunity. Cassani, dropping deep to collect the ball, turned sharply and threaded a through ball between two defenders. Nicco, making an overlapping run down the right, latched onto the pass and fired a low cross into the penalty area. The ball fell to Torrisi, whose shot skimmed the crossbar, drawing a collective groan from the Verona bench.
The second half started with Verona showing more cohesion, though their opponents defended resolutely. It wasn't until the 62nd minute that Verona broke through again. From a set piece just outside the box, Cassani delivered a curling free kick into the crowded area. Louis Hutt, rising above the melee, met the ball with a thundering header that ricocheted off the post and into the net. Verona reclaimed the lead, 2-1.
The amateur side, sensing the game slipping away, pushed forward in search of an equalizer. Their aggressive play left gaps at the back, which Verona exploited in the 78th minute. Nicco, once again, was instrumental, intercepting a misplaced pass and driving down the wing. His pinpoint cross found Cassani, who flicked the ball into the path of an onrushing substitute forward. The young striker slotted it home with a composed finish, securing the final scoreline: 3-1.
Despite the victory, Aymar's satisfaction was tempered. There were moments of brilliance, particularly in the interplay between Cassani, Torrisi, and Nicco, but the team's defensive lapses and lack of fluidity in certain phases were glaring.
As the final whistle blew, Aymar gathered his thoughts. He noted the positives—Hutt's commanding presence in defense, Nicco's energy and vision, and Cassani's growing influence in midfield. But he also saw the gaps: the inconsistent defensive coordination and the over-reliance on individual moments of quality. There was still much to be done.
Back in the dressing room, Aymar addressed the team. "Good win, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We took our chances today, but we still gave away too much space. Keep working. Keep improving." His tone was firm but encouraging.
The players nodded, a mix of satisfaction and resolve etched on their faces. Aymar could see it in their eyes—this team was starting to believe in his vision. They weren't there yet, but they were moving in the right direction.
...
...
The day after the match, Aymar Zambo stood in front of his assembled team in the small tactical meeting room. The air was tense but expectant. Despite the 3-1 victory, Aymar knew there was much to address—both in terms of their tactical cohesion and individual performances. This session would be different. He wanted the players not only to learn from their mistakes but also to start taking ownership of the team's progress.
He began by summarizing the match. "Yesterday was a step forward, but let's be honest—it wasn't good enough. We won because of moments of individual quality, not because we played as a cohesive team. That's not sustainable. If we rely on luck or brilliance alone, we'll crumble the moment we face a stronger opponent."
The players shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Aymar let the silence settle before continuing.
"Let's break it down. Nicco, your overlapping runs were excellent, and your assist for Cassani's goal was textbook. But your defensive positioning left us exposed twice in the first half. That's something we'll address in training."
Nicco nodded, accepting the feedback. Aymar turned his attention to Torrisi. "Emanuele, you lost the ball in a critical area, leading to their equalizer. I need you to be sharper when transitioning under pressure. We'll work on that."
Torrisi looked down but nodded resolutely. Aymar softened his tone slightly. "Mistakes happen, but what matters is how we respond. And to your credit, you played a key role in stabilizing the midfield after halftime."
He continued to analyze the match, praising Hutt's commanding header for the second goal and commending the substitute forward for his composed finish to seal the victory. But he didn't shy away from pointing out missed chances and defensive lapses, particularly in the moments where the backline failed to communicate effectively.
"Now," Aymar said, leaning forward slightly, "I want to hear from you. This is an internal meeting. Nothing leaves this room. If you have something to say—about me, your teammates, or the team's direction—now is the time. Let's talk openly."
The room fell silent, the players exchanging uncertain glances. Finally, Mattia Cassani, wearing the captain's armband, stood up.
"I'll go first," he said. Aymar nodded, having prepared Cassani beforehand to set the tone. "I think our forwards need to be more mobile. Right now, they're too static. If they can stretch the defense by moving to the wings, it'll open up space for Torrisi and me to exploit through the middle."
The two forwards—one a wiry striker, the other more physical—shifted uneasily. One of them spoke up. "We're trying to follow instructions, but it's hard to juggle everything—pressing, making runs, and trying to score. We're not saying no, but we need clarity on what you want from us."
Aymar stepped in. "Fair point. We'll simplify your tasks during the next training sessions. One of you will focus on pulling defenders wide, and the other will stay central to capitalize on chances. It's about working smarter, not harder."
The room visibly relaxed, but Aymar wasn't finished. "Anyone else?"
To everyone's surprise, Pierino Fanna, who had been quietly observing from the back of the room, spoke up. "If I may," he began, his calm but authoritative voice commanding immediate attention.
"The forwards' question is an interesting one. Their concerns highlight something deeper—not just a tactical issue, but a mindset problem," he continued, pacing slowly to the front of the room. "I've watched your last two games and observed your training sessions. Your biggest issue is that you're too restrictive."
His words were direct, but his tone carried a note of encouragement. The two forwards exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to be defensive or grateful. Pierino, however, didn't give them time to linger on the discomfort.
"Look at Mattia Cassani and Emanuele Torrisi," Pierino said, gesturing toward the two midfielders sitting nearby. "Their tasks on the pitch are demanding—covering ground, linking defense and attack, creating opportunities—but why do they seem to perform with ease? The answer is in their mentality."
The players leaned in slightly, his words beginning to resonate. "Play your own game," Pierino urged. "Don't overthink. When we have the ball, your focus should be on finding space, making yourself a threat, and trusting your instincts. If you're constantly worried about making mistakes or taking risks, you'll always be one step behind—reacting instead of acting."
He paused, scanning the room. "If you play with fear, you allow the opponent to dictate the game. But if you trust yourselves, believe in your decisions, and play with conviction, it's the opposition who'll be left scrambling to keep up."
The room fell silent, the weight of his advice settling over the players. Even Aymar, standing off to the side, found himself nodding in agreement. Pierino's words weren't just motivational; they carried the insight of someone who truly understood the game. When Aymar began clapping, the rest of the room followed, the applause building into a collective show of respect.
From his position, Pippo Glaviano—Aymar's assistant—watched the exchange with keen interest. Something about Pierino's involvement stood out. This was supposed to be an internal meeting, a space exclusively for the team. Yet here was Pierino, not only attending but contributing with authority. Pippo couldn't help but feel that this was no coincidence.
In the past few weeks, Aymar and Pierino had grown increasingly close. They often discussed tactics, player development, and ways to improve the team. While these conversations weren't unusual for two football-minded individuals, Pippo sensed there was more to it. On one occasion, he'd even suggested Aymar formally invite Pierino to join the coaching staff. Aymar had only smiled in response, offering no clear answer.
Since then, Pippo had kept his thoughts to himself. He trusted Aymar's judgment but couldn't ignore the signs. Pierino's involvement was becoming more frequent, and his presence at nearly every training session had raised eyebrows. The sports shop Pierino owned was now largely managed by his wife, freeing him to dedicate even more time to the team.
It's only a matter of time, Pippo thought. Pierino wants to join, but he's waiting for Aymar to prove himself fully—not just to the players or the club, but to him.
Aymar seemed to sense the same thing. As the players began to file out of the room, still buzzing with thoughts from the meeting, Aymar exchanged a knowing glance with Pierino. No words were spoken, but the understanding between them was clear. Pierino wasn't just an observer anymore—he was invested.
The room emptied, leaving Aymar and Pippo behind. "He's right, you know," Pippo said, breaking the silence.
Aymar smirked, shaking his head. "He usually is."
Pippo leaned against the table, his tone turning serious. "When are you going to ask him to join us officially?"
Aymar shrugged, though his expression betrayed his own uncertainty. "When the time is right. He'll make that decision on his own."
"But will he?" Pippo pressed. "You've got to show him something on the pitch first—something that convinces him this isn't just another second-team experiment."
Aymar nodded, his resolve hardening. "I know. That's exactly what I intend to do."