Kenny's Fear at practice

After finishing dinner at La Tuscana

Uncle Simon's phone rang. With a furrowed brow, he answered the call, his expression turning serious as he listened intently to the voice at the other end.

After a few moments, Uncle Simon hung up the phone, his gaze meeting theirs with a mix of surprise and concern. "That was Headmaster Thompson," he said, his voice tinged with urgency. "The knockout games have been rescheduled, and our next game is to take place in just two days."

Uncle Simon excused himself from the table. Tony, Emma, and Kenny exchanged worried glances but remained resolute.

A hush fell over the table as the implications of this news sunk in. The knockout games were already the most crucial part of this year, the make-or-break moment. They had even less time to prepare for the next game.

Kenny felt a knot form in his stomach, a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Tony clapped Kenny on the back, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Well, it looks like we're going to have to step up our game, Kenny," he said, his voice filled with determination. Emma nodded in agreement, her usual cheer replaced by a steely resolve.

Uncle Simon returned to the table, his expression firm and decisive and smiled at them, his eyes shining with pride. "I have every confidence in you all," he said. "We may have less time to prepare for the next game, but I know that you have what it takes to rise to the challenge."

They knew that they would need to train harder, focus sharply, and support each other more than ever before. But as they left the restaurant that night, Kenny and Tony agreed to meet early the next morning for their football practice. Uncle Simon dropped Tony and Emma and reached home with Kenny.

Next morning, the Rosewood football team assembly in the practice ground. Coach Peter had made it clear that they needed to give it their all. Emma, who was not part of the team but had a keen interest in sports, decided to tag along to watch them in action.

Kenny, the team's goalkeeper, stood at the edge of the penalty area, his eyes glued to the ball as Tony, the team's star striker, prepared for a shot. Kenny knew he had to be on his toes.

"Focus, Kenny!" Coach Peter barked, his voice booming over the din. "That's the third one he's put past you, and you have to be quicker, more agile!"

Kenny grimaced. He knew Coach Peter was right. He had been struggling lately, his confidence shaken after a string of missed saves as he feared to use his power. The pressure was mounting, and with the upcoming knockout game just a few days away, the practice session felt like a trial by fire.

Emma, Kenny's best friend and a dedicated spectator, watched from the sidelines, her brow furrowed with worry. But even her unwavering support couldn't alleviate the gnawing doubt in Kenny's heart.

"He's just a bit off his game, Emma," Tony said, trying to alleviate Emma's concerns. "If it happens, he'll be back to his best soon."

But Emma wasn't so sure. She didn't know the fear that gripped Kenny.

As the practice progressed, Kenny continued to struggle. His movements were hesitant, his reactions slow. The ball seemed to move faster than ever, and Tony's shots seemed to come from every conceivable angle.

Coach Peter, seeing the growing frustration in Kenny's eyes, decided to change tactics. He called Tony and Kenny aside, and in a hushed tone, he said, "Tony, I want you to focus on your technique and Kenny, focus on your anticipation and forget what happened in the last game."

The ball again reached the net with a dull thud, sending a wave of disappointment through Kenny. He hadn't even moved. He felt a familiar pang of frustration, a heavyweight settling in his stomach.

Kenny hadn't been his usual self since yesterday. He was back on the field, but his spirit, his fire, seemed to be missing.

Peter, noticing Kenny's slump, called for a break. "Kenny, come here a minute."

Kenny walked towards the coach, his head bowed. Peter took a deep breath, knowing this was a delicate conversation. "Listen, Kenny, I know you're struggling," he began gently. "It's alright to be scared, to feel overwhelmed, but you can't let them define you." He placed a hand on Kenny's shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding.

Kenny looked at his coach, the words sinking into his soul, "Thanks, Coach," he said.

As the team dispersed for a break, Kenny sat alone with his friend Emma.

"You're quiet today, Kenny," Emma said, her voice laced with concern. "Something bothering you?"

"Just thinking about the game," he said, avoiding her gaze.

"You're worried about the tryouts?", Emma asked.

Kenny replied, "Not really, it's just being a goalkeeper."

"What's wrong with being a goalkeeper," said Emma.

"It's lonely," he whispered, looking at the distant horizon. "You're the last line of defense, Kenny, and it's a lot of pressure."

Emma touched his hand, her touch a gentle reminder of human connection. "Kenny," she said softly, "you're amazing, don't let the pressure get to you, just focus on your game and you'll be fine."

Her words, though simple, resonated with him. He had always focused on the future, on what he could see coming. But he forgot about the present, about the joy of the game, the thrill of the tournament.

As practice continued, Kenny decided to use his power once every three shots. This time, Tony dribbled the ball with practiced ease and Kenny used his power saw the next minute. He saw the ball arc through the air, a perfect parabola, aiming for the top corner of the goal.

Kenny, however, knew the trajectory, knew the angle, knew the force. He dived, his body morphing into a blur of movement, the predicted path of the ball a beacon guiding him. The ball crashed against his gloves, sending a shock wave up his arm.

"Well done, Kenny!" shouted Peter, their gruff coach, his face creased with admiration. "Keep that up, and you'll be good for sure, Kenny!".

Tony spent the next hour working on his passing, his dribbling, his shooting. He honed his skills, refining his technique under Coach Peter's watchful gaze. Meanwhile, Kenny, standing alone at the goal, ran through mental drills, visualizing the ball's trajectory, anticipating Tony's moves and saved other players' shots.

The next day, in the tryouts, Kenny played with newfound energy. He reacted to every shot, every pass, not with fear, but with confidence, with the thrill of the moment. He even dared to take a few calculated risks, anticipating the opponent's next move, not by peering into the future, but by trusting his instincts, the instincts honed by his ability, but now fueled by a newfound joy in the game.

The two days flew by in a blur of intense training sessions and tactical drills. Coach Peter pushed Kenny, Tony, and the other players to their limits, focusing on teamwork, stamina, and strategy. 

Coach Peter's booming voice rang out across the field. "Gather around, boys," he called, his gray eyes gleaming with determination. The players huddled together, eager to hear what their coach had to say.

"I have some news for you all," Coach Peter began, his voice steady and authoritative. "Our next opponent is none other than the Silver Bulls." A hush fell over the team as they exchanged nervous glances.