Carlos stood on the edge of the practice field, watching as Coach Rivera set up a new drill. The crisp morning air carried a tension that was palpable among the academy players. Today wasn't an ordinary session—it was evaluation day.
Coach Rivera paced in front of the group, clipboard in hand. "Today's exercises will push you to your limits. You're here because you're good, but this is about proving you deserve to stay. Let's get started."
The players dispersed to their stations. Carlos' heart raced as he approached the first drill: a timed sprint and agility course. Andrés was already there, stretching with a confident smirk.
"You ready to eat dust, Vargas?" Andrés teased.
Carlos grinned. "Only if you trip over it first."
The whistle blew, and Carlos exploded forward. Cones blurred past him as he zigzagged through the course, his movements sharp and deliberate. Andrés followed close behind, his speed undeniable.
When the times were announced, Carlos edged out Andrés by a fraction of a second. Andrés laughed, clapping Carlos on the back. "Alright, Vargas, you win this one. Let's see how you handle the next."
The next drill tested passing under pressure. Players had to deliver precise passes to teammates while being hounded by defenders. Carlos thrived here, his vision and calm under pressure shining. He threaded a perfect ball between two defenders, earning a nod from Coach Rivera.
"Good work, Vargas," Rivera called out. "Keep that up."
The final drill was a scrimmage—full-field, high-intensity. Carlos started in central midfield, tasked with dictating the tempo and creating chances.
The game was fast, almost chaotic, but Carlos found his rhythm. He intercepted passes, shielded the ball from pressing opponents, and delivered pinpoint through balls that carved open the defense.
Midway through, Andrés received a pass from Carlos and fired a thunderous shot into the top corner. Andrés pointed at Carlos as they jogged back. "That's teamwork, amigo."
By the time the scrimmage ended, Carlos was exhausted but satisfied. He had given everything, and it showed.
Later that afternoon, Coach Rivera gathered the players in the locker room. "Good work today. Some of you showed real progress. Others... need to step up. For now, get some rest. We'll post the evaluation results tomorrow morning."
Carlos leaned against his locker, his mind racing. He replayed every moment of the session, scrutinizing his performance. Had he done enough?
Andrés plopped down beside him, a towel draped over his shoulder. "Relax, Vargas. You killed it out there."
Carlos smiled faintly. "Thanks. Just... feels like everything's riding on this."
"It is," Andrés said, then shrugged. "But you're built for it. Trust me."
That night, Carlos couldn't sleep. The weight of the evaluation hung over him like a storm cloud. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through messages for distraction.
A text from his mamá caught his eye: Proud of you, mijo. Keep believing in yourself.
Carlos felt a swell of emotion. He replied: Thanks, Mamá. I'll make you proud.
The next morning, the players crowded around the bulletin board where the evaluation results were posted. Carlos' heart pounded as he scanned the list.
His name appeared near the top. Beside it was a single word: Promising.
Relief flooded through him. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was enough. He had made an impression.
Andrés clapped him on the shoulder. "Told you. You're built for this."
Over the next few weeks, Carlos threw himself into training with even greater intensity. Each day was a new challenge, a new opportunity to grow.
One afternoon, Coach Rivera pulled him aside after practice. "Vargas, you've been showing consistent improvement. I've arranged for you to train with the senior academy players tomorrow. Let's see how you handle the next level."
Carlos felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Training with the senior players was a huge step up, a chance to prove he could compete at the highest level.
The following day, Carlos stood on the senior field, his nerves buzzing as he joined the older, more experienced players. Their movements were sharper, their passes faster, their communication seamless.
The first drill was a possession game. Carlos found himself under constant pressure, forced to think and move faster than ever. At first, he struggled, losing the ball twice in quick succession.
"Keep your head up, kid," one of the senior players barked.
Carlos gritted his teeth, refocusing. He began to find his footing, using his quick thinking and close control to evade defenders and keep the ball moving. By the end of the drill, he had earned nods of approval from the senior players.
The scrimmage that followed was even more intense. Carlos started as a substitute, watching from the sidelines as the game unfolded. When his turn came, he stepped onto the pitch with determination.
The ball came to him near the center circle. A senior player charged at him, but Carlos feinted, spinning away and launching a perfectly weighted pass to the winger. Moments later, he intercepted a wayward pass and initiated another attack, earning cheers from the sidelines.
By the end of the session, Carlos felt drained but exhilarated. He had held his own.
Coach Rivera approached him as he left the field. "Good work today, Vargas. You've shown you can handle the pressure. Keep this up, and you'll go far."
As Carlos returned to his dorm that evening, he couldn't help but smile. The journey was far from over, but he was making progress.
Real Azul was testing him at every turn, but Carlos was ready to rise to the challenge. With every drill, every scrimmage, every moment on the pitch, he was proving that he belonged.
This was his dream, and he was living it.