The sound of cleats on grass and the rhythmic thud of the ball filled the air as the U-15 starters worked through their morning drills. Alvaro stood near midfield, absently trapping the ball under his foot. His mind was miles away, thinking about struggling between the tournament ahead and the school.
"Cortez!" Coach Martinez barked from the sideline. "Focus!" he said with a fierce look.
Startled, Alvaro passed the ball quickly to Diego, who caught it with ease, Looking at him carefully, his sharp eyes studying his distracted expression.
"Alright, what's going on?" Diego asked as they jogged back into position. "You've been spaced out all morning."
Alvaro hesitated before answering. "It's just… next week. Balancing school and the tournament. I'm not sure how I'll manage both."
Diego looked him and blinked, then burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" Alvaro asked, confused.
"Cortez, you do realize we're allowed to skip school during match weeks, right? The school's part of the academy—they understand."
Alvaro stared at him in surprise. "Really?"
"Of course," Diego said, still chuckling. "You thought you'd be running from history class to the pitch?"
Alvaro couldn't help but laugh along, the tension easing slightly. 'How stupid of me' he thought.
Diego clapped him on the shoulder. "Relax, man. Just focus on training and playing your best. Leave the rest to Martinez."
---
As the week progressed, the training sessions became more intense. Martinez ramped up the pressure with simulated match scenarios, pushing the team to refine their tactics and decision-making under stress.
"Quick transitions!" Martinez shouted during a scrimmage. "If you lose the ball, you recover it immediately—no excuses!"
Alvaro worked tirelessly, his confidence growing with each session. The team's chemistry improved, and even moments of tension—such as a missed pass or a harsh tackle—seemed to fuel their collective determination.
By Friday, the starters moved with near-synchronized precision, their understanding of each other's movements becoming second nature.
---
The day before the tournament opener dawned bright and clear. Martinez kept the session deliberately light, focusing on warm-ups, set-piece rehearsals, and penalty practice. The air was thick with anticipation, every player keenly aware of the importance of the matches ahead.
"Alright, that's enough," Martinez said, clapping his hands after an hour. "Rest up. We have a big day tomorrow. And don't be late for the tactical meeting"
The players dispersed, their chatter reflecting a mix of excitement and nerves.
That evening, the team gathered in a small conference room near the dorms. A large screen at the front displayed the crest of their first opponent, Castilla North Academy. Martinez stood beside the screen, his arms crossed and his expression serious.
"Sit down," he ordered.
The players quickly took their seats, the room falling silent as Martinez began.
"Our first match tomorrow is against Castilla North Academy. They're a solid team, known for their physicality and discipline. They'll press hard in the midfield and look to dominate possession. If we give them too much space, they'll punish us."
He clicked a button on the remote, and the screen displayed clips of Castilla's recent matches.
"Here's what we're dealing with," Martinez said, pointing to the screen. "Their captain, Javier Montes, is a playmaker. He's got great vision and is their main distributor. Shut him down, and they'll struggle to create chances."
Another clip played, showing Castilla's forward line.
"Their striker, Marco Ruiz, is dangerous in the box. He's quick, strong, and excellent in the air. Defenders, you need to stay tight on him at all times. Don't let him turn or find space for headers. If you can don't even let him breath."
The screen shifted to a diagram of the pitch.
"Now, our strategy," Martinez said, his voice firm. "We'll play a 4-3-3 formation. Cortez, you'll be the central midfielder, tasked with cutting off their passing lanes, distributing the ball to maintain the lines,controlling the pace and feeding our wingers on the counter. Diego, you'll support in transitions, Controlling the pace and keeping the midfield compact."
He paused, letting the information sink in.
"Key points," Martinez continued. "One: quick transitions. Castilla is slow to recover when they lose the ball. Exploit that. Two: tight marking. Don't give them an inch in the midfield or the final third, Thoroughly suppress them there. And three: set pieces. We've been practicing corners and free kicks all week. Use them."
He clicked the remote again, revealing the lineup.
"Starters: Ricardo, Jaime, Diego, Cortez, Luis, Marco, Carlos, Victor, Ruben, and Jorge. Substitutes: Mateo, Ignacio, and Hernan. Be ready to step in if needed."
The players nodded, a palpable mix of excitement and focus settling over the room.
Later that night, Alvaro lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The tactical meeting had given him clarity, but it also amplified the weight of what lay ahead. This wasn't just another friendly—it was his first official tournament match with La Fragua, Yes a real tournament match for the first time after joining the academy.
Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself of the countless hours of training, the sacrifices his family had made, and the dream he was chasing.
"I can do this," he whispered to himself.
With that, he closed his eyes, letting the anticipation carry him into sleep.
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