The New Strategy

Jace Holloway sat at his desk that night, replaying every mistake he had made during training in his mind.

His speed wasn't enough.

His first touch was improving, but his ability to hold off defenders? Weak because they were always intercepting the ball.

He had spent years training to be fast, not strong. The track was about minimal weight, streamlined movement, and explosive power. But football demanded something else—balance, control, resilience and super-thinking if you wanted to be the best.

He needed to adapt.

And if that meant adding strength to his game, then so be it.

He grabbed his phone and searched for football strength training routines. If defenders wanted to knock him off the ball, he was going to make them struggle.

Jace's alarm blared at 5:30 AM, and this was very difficult because that was not part of his normal routine, and he had to become familiar with it only if he wanted to be the best.

He groaned, forcing himself up. This was new. He had never been the type to wake up before dawn unless it was for a track meet.

But this wasn't tracked anymore.

He changed into his training gear and quietly slipped out of the house, heading toward the small gym near his estate.

By 6 AM, he was in front of a mirror, holding a pair of dumbbells.

Squats. Lunges. Deadlifts. Consistent jogging.

Everything is designed to build lower-body strength and improve balance. If he wanted to be a winger who couldn't be shoved off the ball, this was how he started because his main mentor was Cristiano Ronaldo.

At first, it burned. His muscles, used to only sprinting, screamed at him. But Jace welcomed the pain.

The soreness meant growth.

And growth meant proving he belonged.

By the time the next team session rolled around, Jace had a plan.

He wasn't just going to be fast.

He was going to be dangerous by changing his style of play and planning to dribble the defenders and score more goals than ever.

Coach Davies ran them through passing drills, and Jace focused harder than ever, making sure every touch was controlled, every pass crisp.

Then came one-on-one battles again.

And this time, he was ready.

His first opponent was Theo.

Jace knew Theo expected him to rely purely on speed again, but instead, Jace leaned into the challenge.

When Theo stepped in, Jace shielded the ball with his body, using his newfound strength to hold his ground.

For a split second, Theo hesitated—he wasn't expecting resistance.

That was all Jace needed.

A sharp turn, a quick burst of acceleration, and he was gone.

"Better!" Coach Davies called out.

Theo shook his head but smirked. "Didn't think you had that in you."

Jace grinned. "Told you I was learning."

The next drill was small-sided possession games.

This was where Jace still struggled.

It wasn't just about speed or strength—it was about thinking fast. Knowing where the next pass should go before even receiving the ball.

At first, he kept getting caught in possession. He would take too long to decide, and an opponent would close him down.

"Move it quicker, Holloway!" Coach Davies shouted.

Jace clenched his jaw.

He had spent years training his body.

Now, he had to train his mind.

He forced himself to read the game, to watch not just the ball but where his teammates were moving.

Slowly, he started seeing the patterns.

By the end of the drill, he wasn't perfect, but he was improving.

And for the first time, he felt like a real footballer.

The final part of the training was a full-pitch scrimmage.

Jace was back on the left wing.

His moment came in the second half.

Marcus played a perfect pass into space, and Jace sprinted onto it, cutting in from the left. The defender rushed toward him.

Instead of panicking, Jace did something different.

He slowed down.

Then, with a quick fake to his right, he cut left—leaving the defender stumbling.

Now, it was just him and the keeper.

Jace didn't hesitate.

He struck the ball low and hard into the bottom corner.

The net rippled.

Goal.

His teammates cheered, and even Coach Davies gave him an approving nod.

Jace exhaled.

For the first time, he didn't feel like a track star trying football.

He felt like a footballer.

And he was going to stop here. Because the goal was perfectly scored.