The sun hung low over the Abuja training pitch, casting long shadows as the players laced up their boots. Game day.
David adjusted his socks, his heartbeat steady. This wasn't a final, not even an official tournament match, but in some ways, it meant more.
Here, every touch, every movement, every decision was being watched. This was where reputations were built—or broken.
The teams lined up for an 11v11 full-pitch match. Coaches stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, silent observers.
David's team wore blue, the opposition in white. The referee blew the whistle.
Game on.
The first minutes were tense. Neither side wanted to make mistakes. The ball moved quickly, but without risk—safe passes, cautious dribbles.
David stayed patient, reading the flow. Football wasn't just about running—it was about knowing where to be.
Then came his first real involvement.
A teammate spotted him in midfield and sent a pass his way. David let it run across his body, using the momentum to turn past his marker in one smooth motion.
The defender recovered quickly and lunged in.
David reacted instantly. A feint left, a cut right—gone. He slipped past the challenge and released the ball forward before a second defender could close in.
A few players glanced his way.
They were paying attention now.
As the game progressed, the intensity grew. The opposition pressed harder, sensing David's influence.
A midfielder in white shoved into him as they fought for possession. Physical battles were part of the game.
David didn't retaliate. He just looked at the opponent, his expression unreadable.
Then, when the next attack came, he made his move.
Receiving the ball under pressure, he twisted his body at the last moment, using the opponent's momentum against him. A clever turn—his marker was left off-balance.
David surged forward into space. The field opened up.
He spotted his winger making a run and delivered a perfectly weighted pass over the defense. The winger latched onto it, cut inside, and fired—
Goal.
A low murmur of approval spread through the players. The game resumed, but now, David wasn't just another face on the pitch.
Halftime.
The teams gathered by the sideline, catching their breath. A few players from the opposing side eyed David.
One finally spoke. "You're calm for a Lagos boy."
David met his gaze, but didn't say a word.
Another player chuckled. "I like this guy."
Respect wasn't given. It was earned.
The second half was about to begin. David stood near the center circle, rolling his shoulders.
The first test wasn't over yet.