Chapter 11: Training
As the ball landed on David's feet, he immediately took off, wasting no time. While the opposition was still adjusting, he darted down the right flank with blistering speed. Max Bird, filling in as a left-back for the training match, saw the new kid charging towards him and quickly stepped up to block his path. Max extended his right leg forward, aiming to intercept the ball—a calculated move, but one that would be his undoing.
David spotted the attempt and reacted instantly. With a deft touch, he poked the ball through Max's outstretched legs and dashed around him. "Shit," Max muttered as he turned, his sudden pivot throwing him off balance. He lunged to recover but caught nothing but air. "Damn, he's fast," Max thought as he stumbled, watching helplessly as David surged ahead.
Having bypassed the first defender, David's adrenaline spiked. "This is what I was born to do," he thought, his heart pounding as he scanned the field. Most of his teammates hadn't even reacted yet, except for one man—Wayne Rooney. The coach and teammate had anticipated the run, breaking into a sprint toward the box. "Here, have this," David thought as he struck the ball with the outside of his right foot, sending it curling diagonally through the air.
Wayne, reading the play perfectly, timed his jump and met the ball with a powerful header. It rocketed past David Marshall, the substitute goalkeeper, who barely reacted as the ball thudded into the back of the net.
For a moment, the field was silent. Then a piercing scream shattered the stillness. David threw his head back and roared, pumping his fists in the air. The team turned to stare at him, startled by the outburst. Realizing he had drawn everyone's attention, David's face reddened. He awkwardly bowed his head and jogged back to his position, mumbling to himself, "A little much, maybe."
Phillip, the assistant coach, stood on the sideline with the whistle still in his mouth. His thoughts were racing. "What the hell was that? That dribble, that pass... No, it must've been because the defenders weren't ready. Yeah, they'll be ready next time," he rationalized, though a small part of him wasn't so sure.
The yellow team, visibly shaken, restarted the game. They passed the ball cautiously, building from the back. As the ball reached Jason Knight in midfield, Rooney pressed him aggressively. Under pressure, Jason rushed a pass—a critical mistake. The ball veered off course and landed at the feet of Duane Holmes. Seizing the opportunity, Duane surged forward, weaving past one defender. He glanced left and saw Kamil Jozwiak, closely marked, then heard a voice calling, "Here!"
It was David again, sprinting into space. Duane hesitated but decided to pass. As the ball rolled toward David, Max Bird closed in fast, determined not to be embarrassed a second time. David, sensing the pressure, moved early. Before the ball even reached him, he began a feint, swaying his body sideways. As Max lunged in, David let the ball hit his backheel, flicking it into the air. He spun around Max in one fluid motion, the ball sailing over the defender's head.
Max froze, utterly baffled. "Did he just...?" he thought, watching as David darted away with the ball now under perfect control.
Efe Ambrose, the center-back, stepped up to confront the young winger. As David approached, Efe adjusted his positioning, cutting off potential passing lanes. "Pass here!" Martyn Waghorn shouted, raising his hand. David glanced up but had other ideas. He shifted his weight to his left leg and struck the ball hard with his right. The ball swerved through the air in an unnatural arc, curving away from David Marshall's desperate dive and nestling into the top-left corner of the net.
"Gooooal!" David shouted, his voice echoing across the pitch. He dropped to his knees, arms outstretched, basking in the moment. The field fell silent again before erupting into murmurs. The opposing team exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence shaken.