Senior Debut II: In the Spotlight
The teams retook the field for the second half, and the atmosphere was crackling. Utrecht, now attacking the Bunnikside (home of the most passionate fans), started confidently, buoyed by their 3-2 lead.
In the commentary box, Leo Driessen set the scene: "Utrecht kick off the second half, looking to cement this advantage. And one storyline looms large – will we see young Amani Hamadi step onto the pitch?" Next to Driessen, former Utrecht captain John van Loen (serving as co-commentator) chuckled, "The kid must be dying to get on. Imagine being 15 and seeing this crowd – what a rush."
The restart began with Utrecht rolling the ball around confidently, and the crowd rode each pass like a surfer waiting for the wave to crest. Six minutes in, Kali, Toornstra, and Duplan stitched a three‑man triangle that shredded VVV's midfield. The ball spilled to Demouge at the penalty arc; the burly striker pirouetted, lashed a low drive that caromed off Van Diermen's shin and dribbled beyond Mäenpää's wrong‑footed dive. 4‑2.
Demouge roared and pumped his fist as his teammates swarmed him. The stadium's cheers rattled the advertising boards. High in the stands, Carlos Stein hugged his daughter Kristen in celebration, both laughing with relief. "That two-goal cushion might just do it," Carlos said, eyes already drifting back to the Utrecht bench.
High in the media gantry, Leo Driessen bellowed, "And Utrecht have air to breathe!" His co‑commentator John van Loen, voice thick with nostalgia, murmured, "But I keep glancing at the bench. That boy Hamadi, it feels like his night."
Down at pitch level, Wouters was already turning. "Amani!" His bark cut through the din. Amani jogged over, bib flapping. "Warm quickly inside five minutes, you're on." The teenager's breath hitched, but adrenaline spun it into fuel. He bounced down the touchline, fans in the front rows nudging each other and pointing: Look, that's the academy kid.
Sure enough, at the 60-minute mark, Jan Wouters made a decision. He turned to Amani, who was stretching near the touchline. "Amani!" the coach barked. The boy snapped to attention. "Warm up fast. You're going on." Amani's throat went dry for an instant, but he nodded sharply.
He jogged down the sideline, legs suddenly light and springy, as if he were running on pure excitement. In the stands, fans noticed the slight figure sprinting and jumping to get loose. A ripple of anticipation passed through the crowd. Abigail Janssen, a local journalist for Utrechts Dagblad, sat up in the press box and grabbed her pen. She could sense the story of the night coming alive.
On the pitch, the ball went out for a Utrecht throw-in near the dugouts at the 64th minute. The fourth official held up the electronic substitution board: No. 24 – Frank Demouge OFF, No. 37 – Amani Hamadi ON.
A roar rose from the Galgenwaard as Amani trotted to the center circle. Demouge made sure to slap the teenager on the back as they crossed paths. The veteran striker offered a few words, drowned out by the noise but accompanied by an encouraging grin. "Listen to that reception!"
Abigail noted in her match report draft, describing how the crowd, initially surprised, had decided to embrace the moment – cheers and applause rang out for the 15-year-old debutant.
In the commentary booth, Leo Driessen's voice rose over the din: "Here he is! History in the making – Amani Hamadi becomes the youngest ever player to wear the FC Utrecht shirt in Eredivisie and the youngest player to make his debut!" Van Loen added excitedly, "Remember this moment. The stadium is on its feet for him." Indeed, many fans were standing, craning to get a good look at the kid. Some lifted smartphones to snap photos of football history unfolding.
Amani stepped into his position as the game resumed. Wouters had briefed him to play as a second striker just behind Alexander Gerndt – effectively a 4-4-1-1 now, with Amani free to roam between VVV's midfield and defensive lines. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts and reminded himself to breathe. Enjoy the moment.
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DING!
***
A translucent panel flickered to life at the top of his vision:
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SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
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Mission Directive: ENJOY THE MOMENT
Metrics tracking: DISABLED
Skill boosts: N/A
***
The words pulsed once cool white on gun‑metal grey then glided off his retinal horizon like a departing elevator, leaving only the lingering echo of that single instruction.
Enjoy the moment.
Amani exhaled slowly, letting the roar of Bunnikside flow through him like surf against rock. He smoothed a thumb over the HAMADI 37 stamped across his back and stepped closer to the touch‑line, heartbeat suddenly steadier, mind crystalline with possibility.
The green pitch spread out before him, the sounds of the crowd and the smell of cut grass vivid in his senses. Adrenaline and joy surged in tandem. I'm here. Let's play.
His first touches were simple, sensible. A short layoff back to Kali to maintain possession, then a quick side-foot pass to the right wing. Each successful touch settled his nerves a little more. His teammates made sure to involve him early – today's Captain Alje Schut even passed him the ball in a tight spot to show confidence. Amani deftly one-timed it out wide, earning nods of approval.
In the stands, 16-year-old youth player Tijmen watched with Amrabat and Malik, eyes wide. "He looks calm," Jordy said, astonished. Seeing him now on the big stage, fitting in like it was meant to be, filled them with pride. "That's our mate out there!" another boy shouted amid the cheers.
Utrecht's formation on defense remained a flat 4-4-2, and Amani dutifully dropped back to help harry the VVV midfield when possession was lost. He may have been slight in build, but he didn't shy from pressing. On one occasion, he even nipped the ball off an opponent's foot, sparking applause.
"Good lad!" shouted Edouard Duplan, clapping for Amani's effort. The commentators took note: "Hamadi tracking back and winning the ball – the teenager showing he's not overwhelmed by the occasion." If anything, the game felt fast but manageable to Amani.
All those extra hours training with strobe-light glasses – a tool he was first forced to wear had given him to improve reaction time – seemed to pay off now. Without the flashing vision impairment of the glasses, the real match almost felt slower, each movement of players and the ball more readable. He was processing the flow of play comfortably, even as his heart pounded with excitement.
By the 70th minute, Utrecht still led 4–2 and were controlling possession. The VVV players looked tired, chasing shadows as Utrecht knocked the ball around confidently. The Galgenwaard faithful began to relax, a sing-song chant rolling through the stands.
On the sidelines, Jan Wouters shouted instructions to keep the tempo high – he didn't want to invite pressure. Amani found himself drifting into pockets of space between VVV's midfielders, just as the coaches had drawn up.
Each time Utrecht's holding midfielder Nana Asare got the ball, Amani would check into space, offering an option. In the 75th minute, that instinct paid off. Asare intercepted a lazy pass and immediately looked up for the youngster. He fired a pass into Amani's feet near the center circle.
Amani took the ball on the half-turn expertly – a move he'd practiced hundreds of times, allowing him to face the opposition goal in one fluid motion. He noticed a VVV midfielder charging at him and instinctively pulled off a brief la pausa, a tiny hesitation with the ball that caused the defender to stutter-step.
"Olé!" thundered the Bunnikside as if he'd scored. You could almost feel 16,000 bodies lean forward in collective hunger: Feed us more of that.
In the TV booth, Van Loen chuckled. "Look how calm, fifteen going on twenty‑five."
In that split second, Amani saw the play develop in his mind's eye: Duplan was starting a diagonal run behind the left back.
It was the perfect chance. Amani's lips curved into a smile as he slid into action. With a slight tilt of his body, he disguised his intent – the defenders expected a lateral pass, but instead Amani caressed the ball forward, slicing a through-ball between the scrambling center-back and fullback. He weighted it perfectly, just beyond the defender's reach and into the path of the sprinting Duplan.
What followed happened in a blur. Duplan latched onto the pass in stride, behind the defense with only the keeper to beat. The winger took one touch into the box and coolly dispatched a low shot under the onrushing goalie and into the net. GOAL!!! 5–2 for FC Utrecht! The stadium erupted in thunderous acclaim.
The net rippled, and Galgenwaard detonated.
A wall of sound rolled off Bunnikside like a cannon blast, throats raw, scarves snapped overhead, beer cups arced into the air, scattering glittering spray beneath the floodlights. Drums beneath the north stand hammered a war‑beat; trumpets blared the club anthem so loudly security cameras shook on their mounts.
In the front rows, grown men who had spent the first half cursing now leapt onto the crush barriers, hugging strangers, veins bulging in their necks as they screamed "UTRECHT! UTRECHT!" Kids from the academy bounced on plastic seats, fists windmilling; Malik hoisted a homemade banner, HAMADI MAGIC. High in the main stand, pensioners who had seen Haller, Van Seumeren, van Dijk all wore identical expressions of delighted disbelief, mouths forming perfect O's as the scoreboard blinked 5‑2.
Outside the ground, patrons at the supporters' pub felt the roar before they heard it glasses rattling on the bar, door vibrating on its hinges then the cheer spilled out onto Herculesplein like a breaking wave.
On the pitch, Duplan slid on his knees toward the corner flag, arms stretched as if to embrace the noise itself, and every decibel hammered Amani's chest like a personal benediction: welcome to their hearts, kid, you've arrived. Duplan, after scoring, immediately pointed back up the field at the teenager who had served the chance on a silver platter.
Amani found himself engulfed by both joy and teammates. Gerndt was first to reach him, ruffling Amani's hair and yelling, "What a pass, kid! What an assist!" Duplan arrived next, wrapping an arm around Amani's shoulders with a grin. "Merci, garçon!" the Frenchman laughed, thanking him. Amani's face lit up with a brilliant smile as he basked in the moment.
Leo Driessen was practically shouting in excitement: "Hamadi with the assist! Oh, what a pass from the 15-year-old! Split the defense wide open!" Van Loen was equally impressed, chuckling, "That pass had the weight of a veteran playmaker. Incredible. The youngster is making this look easy."
In the press box, Abigail scribbled furiously: "75' – Goal Utrecht (Duplan). Assist – Hamadi (on debut, with a beautifully weighted through-pass)." She underlined it twice. This was the headline: Teen Prodigy Delivers Dream Debut Assist. All around the ground, fans were on their feet, applauding the audacious play.
Many couldn't believe what they'd just seen. One lifelong supporter turned to his friend, "Did that kid really make that pass? Waanzinnig! (Unbelievable!)" The friend laughed and raised his beer: "To Amani Hamadi, remember the name!"
Up in the VIP box, Kristen Stein had tears in her eyes. She recalled watching Amani play in a youth tournament in Mombasa, where he had made a nearly identical through-ball that none of the other 13-year-olds could even conceive. To see him do it now, on this stage, was surreal. Carlos Stein exhaled a shaky breath, his chest swelling with pride.
"We knew he had it in him," he whispered, voice thick. They both stood clapping until their hands hurt. On the pitch, as the cheers eventually settled, Amani felt a wave of pure happiness. He had followed the System's mission – he was enjoying the moment with every fiber of his being.
When play resumed, he jogged back to position, exchanging a thumbs-up with Asare for the initial pass. The Utrecht players looked at the teenager now not as a novelty, but as a trusted part of the team. He had earned their respect with that one brilliant play.
With the score now 5-2 and only a quarter of an hour remaining, the game was effectively put to bed. Utrecht knocked the ball around confidently, each touch accompanied by Oles! from the crowd. The academy boys in the stands mimicked the through-ball in the air, still giddy.
In the dugout, Jan Wouters allowed himself a rare grin and turned to his assistant. "The kid's got ice in his veins," he said, shaking his head in wonder. The assistant laughed, "And here we thought we were taking a risk. Looks like a stroke of genius now, boss." Wouters crossed his arms and continued to watch intently – he knew this night could be something special, but even he didn't predict just how magical it would become in the final minutes.
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