La Fragua training ground -morning
The sharp whistle of a coach and the rhythmic thud of balls against boots greeted Alvaro as he stepped onto the lush green pitch of La Fragua's training ground. It was early morning, and the dew on the grass sparkled under the sun. Around him, boys dressed in pristine white kits jogged in neat lines, their movements synchronized and precise.
Alvaro tightened his grip on his duffel bag, nerves twisting in his stomach. This was nothing like the dusty fields of Valle Sol. Everything here screamed professionalism, from the perfectly mowed grass to the stern faces of the coaches patrolling the sidelines.
"Cortez!" a voice called.
Alvaro turned to see a tall man in a navy tracksuit approaching. His clipboard and sharp gaze made it clear this was someone important.
"I'm Coach Martinez," the man said, extending a hand. "I'll be in charge of your training. Welcome to La Fragua. You're here because someone thinks you've got talent. Now it's up to you to prove they're right."
"Yes, Coach," Alvaro replied, his voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in his chest.
Martinez led Alvaro onto the pitch, where two groups of players were warming up. The boys paused as the coach blew his whistle, their curious eyes turning toward the newcomer.
"This is Alvaro Cortez," Martinez announced. "He's joining the U-15 team starting today. Give him some space to settle in, but don't make it easy for him."
A few boys exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Alvaro could feel their skepticism, a silent challenge hanging in the air.
"Alright," Martinez continued. "We'll start with a warm-up match. Reserve team versus main team. Cortez, you're with the reserves. Let's see what you've got."
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Alvaro found himself on the field with the reserve team, wearing a borrowed kit that felt slightly too big. The opposing main team looked sharp and confident, their crisp passes and coordinated movements reflecting their status as the top players in their age group.
As the whistle blew, Alvaro positioned himself in central midfield, scanning the field. He made himself available for a pass, but his teammates ignored him, choosing to play through others instead.
"Come on, I'm open!" Alvaro shouted, but the boy in possession turned away, losing the ball under pressure.
Alvaro clenched his fists, frustration bubbling inside him. They don't trust me. I have to change that.
The main team dominated possession early on, their sharp passing and fluid movement forcing the reserves onto the defensive. Alvaro stayed disciplined, tracking back to help his teammates.
In the 15th minute, a loose ball rolled toward him near midfield. Alvaro pounced, his quick feet winning the challenge against an opposing player. He spotted a gap and launched a long pass to the reserve team's winger, who broke into space.
"Cross it!" Alvaro yelled, sprinting toward the box.
The winger's cross came in high, and Alvaro rose above the defenders, nodding the ball into the net.
"Goal!" the his teammates shouted, The coach who was the refree blew his whistle confirming the goal.
Alvaro's teammates stared at him in surprise, the skepticism in their eyes replaced with the light of acknowledgement.
With the score tied at 1-1, the reserves played with renewed energy. Alvaro began receiving more passes, orchestrating the team's attacks with sharp one-touch passes and clever through balls.
But the main team wasn't about to let up. In the 28th minute, their striker capitalized on a defensive error, slotting the ball past the reserve goalkeeper to make it 2-1.
Despite the setback, Alvaro continued to fight. In the dying minutes of the match, he dribbled past two defenders and unleashed a powerful shot from outside the box. The ball skimmed just over the crossbar, drawing gasps from the sidelines.
The whistle blew moments later, signaling the end of the match. The main team celebrated their victory, but Alvaro walked off the pitch with a small smile on the lips, He know he played at his best.But he also know he had to improve the way the main team playe made excited and also jealous. He wanted to be like them.
"Not bad, Cortez," Martinez said as the players gathered around. "You've got a good eye for the game and a decent work ethic. Keep it up, and you'll fit in here soon enough."
Alvaro nodded, his chest swelling with pride. He could feel the stares of his teammates—this time, they weren't dismissive.
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After the session, Alvaro stayed behind on the pitch, juggling a ball in the fading sunlight. His body ached, but his mind buzzed with excitement. For the first time, he felt like he might belong here.
"Cortez," a voice called.
Turning, Alvaro saw Miguel Santos, the academy coordinator, approaching with a folder in hand.
"Good session today," Miguel said, handing him the folder. "These are your school transfer documents. You'll start at the academy's partner school on Monday. The school is good and many players in the academy studies there."
Alvaro took the folder, nodding. "Thank you."
"Adjusting won't be easy," Miguel continued. "Balancing school and training is a challenge, even for the best players. But if anyone can handle it, it's someone who can hold their own against the main team on their first day."
Alvaro smiled. "I'll do my best."
That evening, as Alvaro walked back to his dormitory, he felt the weight of the day settle over him. The initial test had been daunting, but he had proven himself—at least for now.
Sitting on his bed, he opened the folder, skimming through the documents. The thought of starting at a new school filled him with nervous anticipation, but he knew it was part of the journey.
"This is just the beginning, There is a long way to go for me" he whispered to himself.
With that, he lay down, ready to face whatever came next.
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