The rest of the training session remained calm after Jerry's "speech." The boys moved on to some light drills, and before long, they were almost done for the day. The only task left was surviving through the dreaded tactical discussions.
"Alright, boys, cheer up," Victor said with a smile on his face as he noticed the players' reactions. It was clear they weren't too thrilled about the upcoming session. Victor felt they had it much easier than he did. Their job was to listen and execute instructions; his was far more demanding. He had to research opponents, decipher their style of play, and formulate counter-strategies. "At least you got to touch grass today," he added, attempting to lighten the mood.
"The Young Dragons Academy," Victor began, his tone turning serious, "play very direct football. They use a 4-3-3 system with fast, pacey, and direct forwards who are very good at running at defenders and getting the better of them. So, in two days, we'll be using a 3-4-3 formation. But instead of inside tens like we used in the game against Jermaine Walter Academy, we'll be utilizing traditional wingers."
Victor paused briefly to gauge their reactions before continuing. "The wingers, however, will play as inside forwards. This means all the wide work will fall to the wingbacks. You lot are going to be doing a lot of running because, while you'll have the attacking responsibilities of a wingback, you'll also shoulder the defensive duties of a defense-minded fullback."
The players who could potentially play as wingbacks sucked in some air as they processed what Victor had just said. Essentially, they would be running for their lives for the entirety of the match.
"Alright then," Victor went on, "the center backs are to remain quite deep. If you lot were better, I might have considered trying an offside trap—something along the lines of what Hansi Flick is doing with Barcelona. But, unfortunately, you're not smart enough to grasp the delicate positioning required for that. All offense should be taken," he added with a smirk.
Victor continued to dish out detailed instructions to the team. He left no stone unturned as he broke down their tactical responsibilities. Much to their dismay, he didn't announce the starting lineup. According to him, the next day's training session wouldn't include any on-field activities. Instead, they would be watching clips of their opponents' games, and only then would he reveal the starting lineup. A few dissatisfied groans escaped the group at the mention of this plan, but no one dared to challenge him.
"Alright, man, when's your mum coming?" Jerry asked as soon as the training was over. He walked over to Jordan and clapped him on the shoulder. Unlike earlier in the day, Jerry wasn't feeling particularly motivated anymore, and he was hoping to catch a ride home with Jordan.
"In a few minutes," Jordan replied. "And since when did you need her ride? I thought you were the model player now."
"It was just a random burst of motivation that comes with receiving an offer to go on trial," Jerry said nonchalantly. "You wouldn't know what that feels like."
"Actually, I would," Jordan shot back with a grin. "I might not have played much, but I caught the eye of Liverpool. In the next few years, I'll be their new Mohamed Salah."
"You wish," Jerry replied with a chuckle.
Jerry wasn't the type to boast about his accomplishments or talk down to others. The only reason he felt comfortable joking like that with Jordan was because he knew Jordan had also received an offer to go on trial. The academy took pride in such achievements and made sure to publicize them as much as possible to attract new enrollees.
"Hey, guys," Moses called out, joining their conversation. "What's going on?"
"Conversation for scouted kids—best you sit this one out," Jordan said with a chuckle.
"If you must know, I didn't just get scouted for a trial. I got signed," Moses said with a proud smile.
"Yeah, you signed for Spurs," Jerry laughed. "Are they even a club?"
The smile on Moses's face faltered. "Screw you, man."
"Please, I'm not gay," Jerry replied. This time, Jordan burst out laughing.
"Sincerely, screw you, man," Moses repeated, glaring at Jerry and Jordan as they stepped back, still laughing. "No homo, of course," he added with a smirk.
Just as Moses finished his retort, Jordan's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and turned to Jerry. "My mum's here. Let's go before Sam Smith pokes us."
Jerry didn't immediately catch the joke, but once he did, he burst out laughing, drawing curious gazes from others who were still around.
"You're ridiculous," Jerry said between laughs, shaking his head as they walked off.
Moses wasn't left out of the commotion. He started hurling curses at Jerry and Jordan as they left the room. At that moment, he didn't even fully understand Jordan's joke, but he knew he had been insulted and felt compelled to retaliate.
When Jerry got home, he noticed that his dad was nowhere to be found. He remembered his dad mentioning something earlier about training with Manchester United's under-18 team, so he probably wouldn't be back until late in the evening.
Jerry quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He let the warm water cascade over him as he contemplated what to do with the bonus points that the system had recently rewarded him with. After some deliberation, he decided to do something he should have done much earlier—ask the system for help.
"System?" Jerry called out.
"System?"
"System?"
[Ding! Host only has to call out to me once.]
"Alright," Jerry said, doing his best to control his irritation. How was he supposed to know that if the system didn't respond the first few times? "How did you calculate my natural position?"
Jerry felt like he had asked this question before and already knew the answer, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to confirm.
[System takes into account your stats and, using various calculations, deduces the position most suitable for you to play.]
"Alright then," Jerry muttered under his breath. His suspicion had been correct. He could transition into a winger as long as he had the necessary stats. With that cleared up, he moved on to the next question on his mind. "To transform me into a winger—a good one at that—where would you allocate my bonus ten points?"
A/N:
Alrighty, this book has gotten contracted (whoopee) and although there won't be any locked chapters for now, if you're feeling generous you could give a few gifts to your favorite author 😉