GEM TALENT

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The darkness of the bedroom was thick and quiet, but William's mind was far from still. As he lay beneath the heavy duvet, his eyes were closed, yet he could see the green pitch of the stadium as clearly as if he were standing on it.

He replayed the tactical instructions Fernandes had delivered in the lobby, imagining the 8 PM kickoff against Bristol City over and over again.

In his mind, he was already weaving through defenders and delivering the perfect pass

to Morgan, feeling the phantom rush of the wind against his face. This mental rehearsal continued until his thoughts began to blur together, and finally, the heavy weight of exhaustion dragged him down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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When the sun began to peek through the curtains the next morning, William woke up with a start, his heart already racing with the anticipation of the match.

However, before he could put on his boots, he had another duty to fulfill. He quickly got dressed in his school uniform, making sure his tie was straight and his bag was packed with the textbooks he had promised his father he wouldn't ignore. Even though his heart was at the Blackpool training ground, his body had

to be in the classroom for a few more hours.

The morning at school felt like it was moving in slow motion, especially since every clock William looked at seemed to be ticking backward.

During his physics lecture, he found himself drawing formations in the margins of his

notebook instead of solving problems. He was physically present, but his soul was already wearing the Black and Green jersey of his club.

His teachers noticed his distracted gaze, yet they didn't scold him because they knew how

much pressure was on his shoulders. The school administration had been very supportive of his dual life, and they had already agreed to let him leave early so he could prepare for the late-night game.

At exactly noon, William stood up and packed his bags, nodding respectfully to the lecturer who gave him a small wave of encouragement. Walking through the school passage, he felt a strange sense of separation from the other students who were worrying about lunch or weekend parties, and how he would shine and show them his best that night.

He stepped out of the school gates and headed straight for the training center, his mind shifting gears from academic logic to sporting instinct.

As he arrived at the gates of the Blackpool training facility, the familiar scent of freshly cut grass hit him, instantly making him feel more at home than he had all morning. He was just about to head toward the changing rooms to swap his school blazer for his training gear when a tall figure stepped into his path.

It was Ibrahim, one of the junior players, who looked at William with a curious expression on his face.

"There you are, William," Ibrahim said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You better hurry up. Coach Lincoln has been asking for you, and he told me to send you straight to his office the moment you stepped foot on the grounds."

William froze, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack a little tighter.

"The Coach wants to see me? Is everything okay? Did I miss a meeting?"

Ibrahim shrugged, though a small, knowing smile played on his lips.

"He didn't say what it was about, but he seemed pretty serious. You should probably go now, and don't worry about changing first; he said he wanted to see you immediately."

A knot of nervous energy formed in William's stomach as he walked down the long, carpeted corridor that led to the executive wing of the building. He had never been called to the head coach's office for a private meeting before, and his mind began to race with all the possible reasons for the summons.

Was he being benched? Was there a problem with his performance? He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and finally reached the heavy oak door that bore a silver plaque with the name 'Coach Lincoln.'

He raised his hand and gave a firm, polite knock on the wood.

"Come in," a calm, resonant voice called out from the other side.

William pushed the door open and stepped inside, feeling a bit out of place in his school trousers and crisp white shirt. The office was massive and beautiful, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sprawling practice pitches outside.

The walls were lined with framed jerseys and trophies, reflecting the long history of the club, while a large, polished mahogany desk sat in the center of the room. Coach Lincoln was sitting behind the desk, looking over some

tactical sheets, but he looked up and gestured toward a comfortable leather chair.

"Sit down, William. Thank you for coming so quickly," Lincoln said, his voice warm but professional.

William sat on the edge of the chair, his posture stiff.

"I'm sorry I'm still in my school clothes, Coach. Ibrahim said you wanted to see me right away."

Lincoln waved off the apology with a small movement of his hand.

"Don't worry about the clothes. Education is important, and I'm glad you're taking it

seriously. The reason I called you here is that I wanted to have a private conversation with you—something that stays between us for now."

William nodded, his curiosity piqued. He watched as the coach leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together.

"I've been watching you closely over the last few weeks, William," Lincoln began, his eyes locking onto William's with an intense focus.

"I love the way you play. You have a vision for the game that most players your age haven't even begun to develop. You're brave on the ball, and you're not afraid to take risks.

That is why I am so invested in your future here at Blackpool."

The coach paused for a moment, as if choosing his next words very carefully.

"There is a lot of talk about the squad right now, especially regarding you. As we all know, you are here on loan from Chelsea, and there is a lot of speculation about your return. But I want to tell you something directly: I would be very

happy if you decided to stay in Blackpool permanently instead of going back to London. Having you in this squad gives us a strength that is rare in this league."

William looked confused, his brow furrowing as he tried to process the information. He had expected the coach to talk about the Bristol City match, not the long-term contract status of him.

Lincoln continued, sensing William's uncertainty.

"My main focus right now is to make sure that you, William, become the best central midfielder this club has ever seen. You have the potential to be world-class, but the road to the top is crowded and difficult.

To get there, you have to be ready to face intense opposition, not just from other teams, but from within your own mind. You shouldn't ever feel envy or be jealous of someone who might be performing better than you in the moment.

Instead, you should look at them, learn from their strengths, and use that knowledge to improve your own game."

William listened intently, but a small flame of doubt began to flicker in his chest. He respected Kyle, but he also felt the natural competitive drive to be the number one choice in his position. Hearing the coach praise Kyle while simultaneously telling William to be the "best ever" felt like a contradiction that he couldn't quite wrap his head around.

"I want you to be a leader here," Lincoln added, his voice becoming even more earnest. "But a leader knows how to coexist with other great players. I want you to embrace the challenge of having someone like Kyle around, because he pushes you to be better every single day."

William took a moment to gather his thoughts, feeling the weight of the coach's expectations pressing down on him. He appreciated the honesty, but there was one question that had been burning in the back of his mind ever since Kyle had arrived at the club, and he realized that if he didn't ask it now, it would haunt him forever.

He looked Coach Lincoln directly in the eye, his voice steady despite the rapid pounding of his heart.

"Coach, I appreciate everything you're saying, and I want to be the best for this team," William said, leaning forward slightly.

"You say you want me to be the main man here and that you want me to stay and grow into the best midfielder ever. But if that's true, and if you really believe in my potential that much,

then why did you sign Kyle in the first place?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and direct, as the silence in the massive office suddenly felt much heavier than before.