Chapter 39: The Next Step
The January air was sharp and unforgiving, slicing through Amani’s skin. Each breath curled into the icy wind, vanishing into the cold morning as he jogged onto the training pitch. His boots crunched against the frost-covered grass, the thin layer of white clinging stubbornly to the blades.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Taking it all in.
Utrecht’s academy was waking up.
Across the pitch, early-rising players were already locked in their routines. Goalkeepers hurled themselves into sharp reflex saves, their gloves smacking against frozen leather, sending dull echoes through the quiet air. Midfielders moved through rapid passing drills, their voices cutting through the morning stillness like clockwork.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, fresh-cut grass, and the faint bitterness of coffee from the coaching staff’s thermos on the sideline.
It was cold. It was brutal.
And it was exactly where Amani wanted to be.
Movement near the halfway line caught his eye. Tijmen and Amrabat. Both already warming up as they rolled their shoulders, shaking out their legs, getting loose. Preparing.
Tijmen’s grin was instant. "You’re late, Hamadi."
Amani rolled his shoulders, matching his smirk. "Nah. Just giving you a head start."