Chapter 4: "I will, kid. I will."

I didn't know how to reply to Dmitry's question. No matter what, he has known me for eight years and sees me almost every day. I was racking my brain quickly.

After thinking about it, I wondered what could have caused me to suddenly change. Then, I quickly had an idea. "I'm just angry that we didn't even qualify for the Euro next year."

The Russian national team didn't make it to Euro 2000, which was held in Belgium and the Netherlands. Dmitry seemed to buy what I said because he appeared indignant.

He crossed his arms and shook his head. "Hah, don't remind me. It's a disgrace. How could we not even qualify? The players were like chickens without any backbone or fighting spirit, despite the huge advantage we have when playing at home."

"That's why I told you, you should train hard. You are so talented. You are the future hope of the country and the one who will lead the national team."

How to say it? This is the problem with adults. Sometimes, they don't know what kind of impact their words can have on a kid.

If I were normal, I would just feel a huge pressure on my shoulders—the hope of a whole nation. This was also what happened to many talents, for example, Bojan, the 'second Messi.'

The poor boy was under so much pressure. The fans expected him to be like Messi when Messi was at his peak. It can only be said that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fortunately, I no longer have to worry about my strength. If Leicester could win the Premier League against all odds, and if Greece could win the Euro, then I would definitely do it too.

As for the fact that these teams had talented players and were destined to succeed, that's only bullshit. Had they not accomplished these miracles, no one would say they were great. But afterward, people would say they were destined to do it because they were strong.

"Don't worry, old man. I will definitely lead the team to the World Cup in two years. I will accomplish something that will shock the whole world."

I was very confident. That was one of the most rigged World Cups in history, especially the match between South Korea and Italy. It could even compete for the most controversial match in history.

South Korea went on to eliminate Portugal, Italy, and Spain. One can see from this how unbelievable this World Cup was. So, if you can take advantage of the situation, it's not impossible to reach the semi-finals.

This was just my idea, after all. Along the way, there are too many variables. Anyway, even if we can't accomplish a miracle now, I don't believe we couldn't do it later—at least snatch Euro 2004 from Greece.

Dmitry raised an eyebrow at my bold statement but then let out a chuckle. "Hah! You sound like a true Russian warrior already. If you can back up your words with actions, then maybe, just maybe, I'll believe you."

I smirked. "Then just watch me, Coach."

He patted my shoulder. "I will, kid. I will." Then, he turned serious. "But before you start dreaming of winning the World Cup, focus on making it to the first team. If you can't secure a spot in Spartak, how will you lead the national team?"

He glanced at the goal, then back at me. "So, what were you working on? Looked like shooting practice?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "My dribbling and passing have always been my strongest points, but I need to be more threatening in front of goal. If I want to stand out, I need to score more."

Dmitry smiled knowingly. "That's good thinking. A midfielder who can score regularly becomes invaluable. Look at Zidane, Rui Costa, and even Scholes. If you want to make it big, you need goals."

"I've told you this many times, but you keep making excuses, saying that you don't need shooting with your dribbling and awareness. If you've really made up your mind to train seriously, I will help you. But know that once we start, I will never let you give up."

I met Dmitry's eyes and smiled. Men like these are really easy to deal with; they only have passion in their eyes and don't care about much else. "Don't worry, I'm a man of my word."

"Good. There's still some time before the kids come. Let's see how your current shooting skills are."

I nodded and positioned myself a few yards away from the empty goal. Dmitry stood aside with the ball in his arms. "In football, there are different kinds of shooting techniques, but generally, we classify them into two categories."

"The first are Power & Precision Shots. As the name suggests, this includes techniques like the Curved Shot, Side-Foot Shot, Instep Drive, etc. This category covers almost all the basic shooting techniques. They may be basic, but they are the most fundamental."

"The second category is Aerial & Special Technique Shots. These are more difficult and require some kind of talent. This includes techniques like the Volley, Bicycle Kick, Chip Shot, and even headers."

"Now, the most important thing is feeling. Which shooting technique feels the most natural to you based on your past experiences?"

It has to be said that professionals are professionals. The first type of shooting technique can't be said to require no talent, but as long as one works hard, it can basically be trained. The second type, however, requires the shooter to have talent and feel. They aren't easy to practice, even the simplest header.

I thought about it. With my ability to judge landing points and my strong body, which can generate powerful shots, I should be good at volleys and headers—maybe even simple long shots.

I took a deep breath and focused. "I think volleys and headers suit me best. My sense of timing and positioning helps me predict the ball's flight path, and my body strength should give me enough power."

Dmitry seemed to be thinking about it. Although I couldn't know the results of his thoughts, he seemed to trust me. "I never really noticed this about you, but now that you mention it, how about giving it a try?"

I nodded. I was very confident in this. Anyway, with the juggling I did in the morning, this shouldn't be that difficult, right?

Dmitry tossed the first ball, a gentle lob. I shifted my weight, watched the ball closely, and swung my leg through it. My shot flew towards the goal with power but lacked precision.

"Not bad," Dmitry said. "Your positioning and ball landing judgment were spot on, but your strike was too controlled. Don't be afraid to hit it cleanly."

Dmitry tossed another ball, this time a bit higher and faster. I adjusted my stance, keeping my eyes locked on the ball as it descended.

This time, I focused on striking through the ball with more conviction, letting my natural power take over. The connection felt solid, and the ball rocketed towards the top corner of the goal, slamming into the net with a satisfying thud.

Unlike the first time, although I didn't control the direction, I used all my power when shooting, and it must be said that this was one of the most satisfying feelings I've ever had while playing football.

I relished the sensation when the ball made contact with me. Turning around, I looked at Dmitry. His mouth was wide open in surprise.

No matter what, on the surface, I'm a 16-year-old boy. Having the shooting power of an adult is simply amazing, let alone with my new explosive power. Only a few people could show better shooting power than me.

Dmitry exclaimed, clapping his hands. "That's... I knew it! God knows how many talents you have, kid. Trust me, you should work hard and not let down the gift God gave you. When you're older, you'll have all the time to enjoy yourself."

I chuckled at Dmitry's reaction but nodded seriously. "I know, Coach. That's why I'm here, training."

Dmitry walked over and patted my shoulder. "Good. That shot was something special. Your raw power is already at a high level—no, I think I need to create a new training plan for you."

The old man looked really excited. I could only smile helplessly. It wasn't until my teammates started arriving that the tests stopped.

END OF THE CHAPTER

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