First Training Session (2)

---

"Jeremiah Hayes and Casey Simpson," the coach of the under sixteens said while smiling. After he introduced the pair, a round of applause erupted. A few seconds later, the coach signaled everyone to stop clapping and turned to face Jerry and Casey. "My name is Tom Curtis, and I'm the head coach of the under sixteens. Well, actually, I oversee the under thirteens to the under sixteens with the help of my assistants." Tom gestured to various training staff arranged outside the circle that the players had formed around him. "We aim to develop you all and make sure you become useful members of the first team. Of course, not everyone who passes through this stage becomes a proven first-team player, so it's up to you to make sure you're among the lucky few."

Tom paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing. "And to the rest of the players," he said, addressing the group. "Despite being the newbies in the squad, these two are already setting examples that you should follow by coming early for training and doing extra sessions on their own." The rest of the players turned to look at Casey and Jerry with a bit of interest in their gazes. Tom, noticing the shift in attention, added, "Now remember, I told you that the under eighteens coach is coming to watch our next few matches, so you have to do well to get promoted. If you get released from the team, then you can only blame yourself for not doing well enough."

"Alright then, let's begin!" Tom said, clapping his hands.

The players spread out across the pitch and watched as one of the fitness coaches demonstrated various stretches. They emulated his movements with focus and precision. While they stretched, some of the assistant coaches began arranging cones, setting up the pitch for the next set of training drills.

After completing their stretching routine, the team moved on to some ball mastery warmups. The first drill involved dribbling the ball around a circle of tightly placed cones. It required sharp turns and precise control. Next, they practiced figure-eight dribbling, weaving the ball around two closely spaced cones with an emphasis on accuracy and smooth transitions.

Jerry handled the warmups with ease. It was nothing new to him, as he had done similar drills countless times with his dad or one of his trainers. His movements were fluid and confident, a reflection of his familiarity with the exercises. Casey, on the other hand, managed to complete the drills without much trouble, though his movements lacked the same natural grace as Jerry's.

Once the warmups were completed, Tom called everyone back together. The players gathered around him, sitting in a circle on the pitch.

"Alright, everyone," Tom began, his tone serious. "As most of you may know, we're going to Spain this weekend to play in the MIC Football Tournament. It's going to be huge, with under sixteens teams from clubs around the world participating. Now, I'm sure you're aware that not everyone will travel to take part in this tournament. I've been asked to submit a twenty-six-man squad, and since there are about thirty of you here, some of you won't make the cut. You need to try your best over the next few days, or you'll be left behind to train with the younger age groups while we're gone."

Tom paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. The players exchanged uneasy glances, each one silently resolving to give their best effort. Sensing their determination, Tom continued, "Still on the matter, the draw for the tournament has been finalized. We're in the same group as Barcelona's under sixteens, São Paulo's under sixteens, and Kawasaki Frontale's under sixteens."

At this announcement, a collective murmur spread through the group. Everyone knew what being in a group with Barcelona and São Paulo meant. It was the kind of challenge that could make or break a team. Barcelona's under sixteens were legendary for producing world-class talents. Names like Lamine Yamal and Pau Curbasi were fresh examples of their incredible academy. As for São Paulo, their reputation as a Brazilian powerhouse was enough to command respect. Manchester United's under sixteens had no intention of underestimating them.

The only team in the group that seemed like a potential reprieve was Kawasaki Frontale. "Who even are they?" one player whispered, voicing what many were thinking. If they hadn't heard of the club before, then how strong could their under sixteens really be?

Tom allowed the team a moment to process the information before clapping his hands to get their attention. "Alright, enough dwelling on the draw. Let's focus on what we can control—training. Now get up and get ready for the next drills."

What followed was a series of intensive training exercises. The players engaged in one-versus-one duels, where attackers attempted to get past defenders. Jerry excelled in these matchups, using his quick feet and sharp decision-making to consistently outwit his opponents. Each successful dribble boosted his confidence, and by the end of the drill, he had earned nods of approval from some of the coaches. Casey also performed well, showcasing his determination and ability to hold his own against the defenders.

As the session wound down, Tom gathered the players one last time. "Good work today, everyone. Keep up the effort over the next few days. Remember, the squad list for the tournament will be based on your performance in training. Give me a reason to pick you." With that, he dismissed the players.

By the time Jerry was done changing and packing up, the under eighteens were still training. He decided to wait near the car for his dad, Jeremiah, who had been watching from the sidelines. After a while, Jeremiah finished his conversation with another parent and walked over.

"How was training?" Jeremiah asked, unlocking the car and glancing at Jerry with a smile. He could see the boy waiting beside the vehicle and realized he might have taken a bit too long.

"It was alright," Jerry replied, stepping aside to let his dad open the car door. "We're going to Spain for a tournament this weekend."

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. "United's under sixteens are going for a tournament," he corrected. "You only get to go along if the manager picks you. You've only started training today, so you have a lot of work to do if you want to go with them."

Jerry nodded, his enthusiasm slightly tempered but not extinguished. "Yeah," he said, looking at his dad with a hint of surprise. Jeremiah's tone was different—calm, straightforward, and devoid of the usual sharpness that Jerry had grown accustomed to. While his dad's words were blunt, they lacked the condescension that often accompanied them. It was a simple statement of fact, and Jerry appreciated the change, however small it was.

Although his bubble had been burst, Jerry couldn't deny that his dad was right. He needed to work hard. That part wasn't up for debate. The upcoming tournament wasn't just an opportunity; it was a test, and Jerry was determined to pass it.