Pep talk

Retracing my steps to the dressing room, I walk to the bulletin board, where today's roster is announced. As usual, I am still in the substitute list. For someone who can longer run a full 90-minute match, I am grateful even to be included. Of course, this is also in consideration that this is the last match of my career. The team have also put less emphasis on the result since we are finally going to J2 League again after securing a runner-up in the league table.

Waiting for my teammates to arrive, I changed into training kit, then started my stretching exercises. At 34, my body has become less flexible over time, needing more time to warm up properly. I also need to massage my ankles due to my repeated sprains over a decade. Even though my play style centers around positioning and spotting the defense gap, physical clashes and tackles are unavoidable for midfield players like me.

Soon after, the players trickle in one after the other. I greet them as they come in and also receive congratulatory messages from them. Among them, forward Yahiko is the newest transfer and also the friendliest towards me, probably because he still tends to rely on senior players before establishing his position in the squad. He walks towards me and hands me a box wrapped in paper.

"What's this?," I asked.

"Of course, it's a gift for you, Minato-san. To commemorate your retirement.," replies Yahiko with a smile.

"You shouldn't have, Yahiko. Just congratulations would've been enough."

"How can it be? It's such an important occasion, so we have to celebrate properly."

I open the box after unwrapping and found a pair of Salomon hiking shoes within. I recall I once told him about my interest in hiking some time ago. I am secretly happy that someone other than my family cares about my interests.

"Thank you for remembering my hobby.," I reply, smiling.

"For us footballers, our legs are the most valuable, so I want you to take care of them even if you stop playing. Hence, the shoes, he-he.," Yahiko says while giggling.

"Thanks again, I'll use the shoes properly.,"

After that, Yahiko and I end up chatting while waiting for the coach to come in. When all players are in the room, Mr. Ito—a blunt man with few words—comes in with his assistant coach, Mr. Fujikawa. The coach has come here two years after my transfer. Even though he seems to be insensitive towards players, his coaching is the real deal, evident by our recent promotion. The lacking area of player management is then filled in by Mr. Fujikawa.

"Alright, listen up, boys. Even though this is the last day of the season without any pressure, if I find you slacking or making mistakes you shouldn't be making, the coach and I will sub you out immediately. Understood?," Mr. Fujikawa says in his booming voice.

"Yes, sir!," everyone replies in unison.

"Also, don't go head first into tackles. If you don't want to spend your off-season in casts or in hospital, be extra careful today. I don't want to spend our financial on physiotherapy because of your reckless challenges. If you end up with a serious injury today, I won't include your name in the roster for next season. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

The assistant coach stops his threats and looks towards me. Then he continues, "As you all know, Minato-san has announced his retirement a few weeks ago. Today will be his last day playing for us. So let's give a round of applause for his contributions to this club during these four years!"

I stand up and bow awkwardly to the coach and players clapping, unsure of how to conduct in this situation.

"To celebrate this, we will be having team dinner after the match. Mr. Miyazaki has already made a reservation for us. So if you don't play well today, we will leave you behind. Keep that in mind. That's all!," Mr. Fujikawa concluded his speech amid cheers for the team dinner.

"Alright, let's go to the pitch for the warmups!"

Following the players leaving the room, I stop by when I get to the coach and the assistant coach.

"Thank you for your care during these years. Ito-san, Fujikawa-san." I bow again.

"No, no. It's our job, after all. We are also grateful for your impact in the team while rebuilding the team to this level.," Mr. Fujikawa replies, with Mr. Ito nodding along. Sometimes I wonder who is the head coach here, with how little Mr. Ito talks to his players.

"Let's play well today as well, Minato-san. I hope you don't mind us putting you in the subs."

"Not at all, Fujikawa-san. In fact, I'm grateful. I don't want to come off as unseemly for my last match because of my stamina."

"Wow, what a career, huh? At your prime, you were called the "silent genius", weren't you?," the assistant coach continues, reminiscing the past.

I feel embarrassed at that tacky nickname. It was around my mid-twenties when I was dominating the midfield in J1 League. My sharp intuition and precise control delivered the ball to where my teammates wanted, without them even calling to me. I didn't need to talk either due to my positioning and keen eyes for exploiting the gaps. One sports journal dubbed me the "silent genius" after I assisted five goals at a particular match with a match rating of ten.

But then it all came crumbling down. One ACL injury and the subsequent injury of a broken ankle stopped my dreams of making it to the national team. I never fully recovered, falling into a vicious cycle of injury and recovery. I wasn't also physically superior due to my habits outside the pitch, thoroughly wrecking my body. By the time I realized, it was too late. One bad transfer after another, the clubs in the top leagues finally gave up on me.

Seeing my smile fade away, Mr. Fujikawa smiles and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Be proud of yourself, Minato-san. You have done your best. We will always remember how amazing of a player you are.," he says, while encouraging me.

"Come now, let's join others. We still have a match to play."

I put away my thoughts, shaking my head and collecting myself to follow the coaches into the pitch.