AFCON U17 Qualifiers preparation II

The next morning, the players made their way onto the pristine training pitch, the cool morning breeze still lingering before the sun would reach its peak. Marcel, Ganago, and Ngoah arrived together, stepping onto the grass as they took in the energy of the session ahead. Their bond had grown naturally, sharing not just a room but also the common ambition of making their mark on the national team.

Marcel scanned the field and quickly spotted Jean, standing near the center circle, adjusting his socks. Without hesitation, he nudged Ganago and Ngoah before heading over.

"Jean!" Marcel called out with a grin.

Jean turned and smirked, tapping his boot against the ball at his feet. "Finally, you're here. I thought you will never leave the hotel room."

Marcel chuckled. "No chance. I'm just making sure you're ready for when we embarrass you in training."

Jean let out a short laugh. "We'll see about that. Just don't complain when I lock you out of the game."

Their brief exchange was lighthearted, but the underlying competitive edge was there. Everyone here had something to prove.

"Alright boys, we start with warm-ups," Coach Atangana's commanding voice cut through the scattered conversations. "We have a lot to cover today, and I need you sharp. Let's get going—light jog around the pitch!"

The players immediately fell into formation, moving in a loose pack as they jogged around the field. Jean was up in the first row, setting a strong pace, while Marcel, Ganago, and Ngoah stayed just behind, jogging side by side.

"You know," Ganago said between breaths, "if we just take it easy now, we'll have more energy to dominate later."

Ngoah scoffed. "Or you'll be out of breath before the real training even starts."

Marcel smirked but kept his focus ahead, feeling the rhythm of his steps. Around them, murmurs of conversation and light laughter mixed with the steady sound of cleats brushing against the grass. The energy was good, but beneath the surface, each player knew what was at stake.

After several laps, Coach Atangana signaled for them to stop. The players gathered in a semi-circle, catching their breath.

"Stretch it out," one of the assistant coaches instructed. "Loosen those muscles, l don't want any injuries later."

They followed through, each player bending, reaching, and extending as they worked out the early stiffness from their bodies. Some exchanged casual remarks, but the focus was beginning to settle in.

With the warm-up phase nearing its end, Coach Atangana moved on to rondo drills, an essential exercise to develop quick passing and composure under pressure. He clapped his hands to get their attention.

"We're splitting into groups of seven—five in possession, two pressing. If you lose the ball, you switch. Keep it sharp, keep it clean."

The assistant coaches quickly arranged the groups, ensuring a balanced mix of defenders, midfielders, and attackers. Marcel found himself in a highly competitive group, with a familiar face—Ouambo Toukam from Kadji Sports Academy—as one of the defenders. Alongside him was Martin Hongla, a defensive midfielder from Nkufor Academy. The possession group included Marcel, Stéphane Zobo (striker), Moïse Sakava (left winger), Steve Kingue (center-back), and Martin Ako Assomo (right winger).

The drill started at a moderate pace, Marcel initiating the first pass to Zobo, who played it smoothly to Assomo before Toukam could close in. Assomo then flicked it to Sakava, who sent a quick one-touch pass to Kingue. The tempo increased, and just as the ball was played back toward Marcel, Hongla rushed toward him.

Seeing the challenge coming, Marcel attempted a slick pass between Hongla's legs—a cheeky nutmeg. The ball rolled halfway through before Hongla instinctively flicked his back heel, blocking the pass just before it escaped. The interception was clean.

"Not bad," Marcel muttered, grinning as he swapped places with Hongla.

Hongla just smirked. "Try that again, and we'll see if it's just not bad."

The rondo continued, each rotation sharpening their touches and reactions. Marcel was caught a few times, particularly by Hongla, who was proving to be a formidable defensive presence.

Determined to get one back, Marcel upped his intensity. The next time he found himself in possession, he lured Hongla in before deftly flicking the ball up and over him—a perfectly executed sombrero. The watching players reacted with approving laughs and cheers.

The competitive edge grew fiercer, but so did the chemistry. Marcel started nutmegging Hongla more often, their personal battle adding to the energy of the drill. Eventually, Marcel stayed in possession for the remainder of the session, adjusting to the tempo and ensuring crisp passing.

After ten minutes, Coach Atangana blew his whistle. "Alright, that's enough! Good work."

The players regrouped, their faces glistening with sweat, but their expressions remained locked in. The intensity was already building, and this was only the beginning.

Coach Atangana looked at them, then at his assistants before speaking.

"Good warm-up, boys. This match against Ghana is our doorway to the CAN U17. Losing is not an option. Our objective is clear—we go to Niger to win the entire tournament."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

"For this match, we'll set up in a 4-2-3-1 formation—four defenders, two defensive midfielders, one attacking midfielder, two wingers, and a striker. Ghana is not an easy opponent. They are physically strong, quick, and aggressive in their play. That means we need to be disciplined, compact, and sharp in our decision-making. The starting eleven isn't set yet—every position is up for grabs. These training sessions will determine who starts and who sits. I want to see hunger. I want to see effort. If you want that jersey on matchday, show me."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the players before pointing to the tactical board again. "Now, listen carefully. Our defensive shape is key. We stay compact as a unit—the back four must move together. No gaps. If one defender steps up, the others must readjust. Jean, Toukam, Hongla, Ngassa—you are my defensive pillars, and you need to talk to each other constantly.

Midfielders, you must cover the spaces Ghana's wingers and midfielders will try to exploit. Ngoah, Djoubairou and Oloumou, I need you to win those midfield battles and play with intelligence. If we lose the ball, I want a quick transition to defense. That means everyone, including the wingers, must track back and help."

Atangana tapped on the board, emphasizing the transition from defense to attack. "When we have the ball, we play direct—quick, precise passes. No unnecessary sideways passing if we are not leading. Our objective is to get the ball to the forward's feet as fast as possible. Wingers, you must stretch the field, stay wide, and deliver dangerous crosses into the box. Moïse, Assomo, Marcel—I need you to be direct, no hesitation. Ganago, Zobo, Komo Atangana—you must be ruthless in front of goal. Midfielders must be the link—quick movement, smart passing, and always aware of the opponent's press."

His tone hardened. "I don't want to see you playing without urgency. If you hesitate, you will be pressed. Ghana is a team that will capitalize on every mistake. Stay disciplined, communicate, and fight for every ball. This is not just about talent—it's about effort, about willpower. We move together, attack together, defend together. Help each other. Cover for each other. If one of you is caught out of position, another must step in."

With that, he blew his whistle, signaling the transition to a practical exercise.

The players spread across the field as Coach Atangana and his assistants positioned them based on their roles. The defenders lined up in a flat back four, the midfielders settled in a double pivot, while the wingers and the attacking midfielder took their places in front of them. The striker stood alone up top, waiting for service.

"Alright, we start with basic movement and defensive shape. Watch my signals. We must move as one. Defenders, step up together—if one of you pushes forward, the others follow. If the ball goes wide, the full-backs close the space, midfielders cover the gaps, and wingers drop back to help."

As the mock game scenario began, Atangana and his assistants constantly whistled, stopping play to make adjustments.

"Jean, don't leave that much space between you and Ngassa! If they switch play quickly, you'll be caught out!"

"Toukam, talk to your center-back! If you don't communicate, he won't know whether to press or drop!"

"Djoubairou, don't get caught ball-watching! You have to be aware of your surroundings—position yourselves to cut passing lanes before the ball even arrives!"

The players repeated the same defensive drills multiple times, Atangana emphasizing the importance of pressing as a unit and maintaining compactness. It wasn't about mastering everything in one session—there wasn't enough time for that—but about making sure each player understood their responsibilities.

"Most youth teams rely too much on individual skill," Atangana reminded them. "But we will win because we are tactically superior and have individual skill. No reckless pressing. No unnecessary risks. Discipline and organization will win us this match."

After the formation walkthrough, Atangana split the players into three groups of seven for 7v7 small-sided games. The groups were rotated so everyone got a chance to adapt to the system.

"The purpose of this drill is to reinforce our defensive compactness and attacking transitions. When you don't have the ball, I want to see pressing, communication, and structure. If you're attacking, use width, find space, and move intelligently."

Each 7v7 game started with one team in possession, while the other had to press and maintain defensive shape.

Jean, Toukam, and Ngassa anchored different defenses, constantly adjusting their positioning.

Marcel, Moïse, and Assomo focused on breaking down defensive lines and stretching play wide.

Ganago, Zobo, and Komo Atangana were drilled on movement inside the box and finishing under pressure.

Ngoah and Djoubairou worked on linking play between defense and attack.

Atangana and his staff stopped play frequently to correct positioning, emphasizing quick reactions and defensive balance.

"Marcel, when you receive the ball on the wing, you need to scan the box before crossing. Who's making a run? Is there an open space? Don't just cross blindly!"

"Toukam, you stepped up too early there—you left a gap behind you. Patience! Read the game before committing."

Each rotation lasted seven minutes before switching, allowing different combinations of players to adapt. It wasn't just about fitness—it was about mental sharpness, reaction speed, and tactical awareness.

After an intense tactical session, Coach Atangana blew his whistle. "Alright, good work today! We finish with a cool-down."

The players jogged lightly around the pitch, shaking off fatigue before transitioning to static stretching. Some were still catching their breath, sweat dripping from their foreheads.

"Stay hydrated," the assistant coach reminded them, handing out bottles of water. "We need you in peak condition, and that means proper recovery."

As the players rehydrated, some leaned on their knees, tired but satisfied. Marcel wiped sweat from his brow, his shirt sticking to his back. He had performed well today, but this is just the first day, so he can't relax thinking he already had a spot.

After the stretching, the team headed to the showers, washing off the exhaustion of the morning session. Once cleaned up, they gathered for a team lunch, refueling with a balanced meal carefully prepared for optimal recovery.

"You have the afternoon to rest," Coach Atangana told them. "Take care of your body. We go again in the evening session."

...

...

The past few days had been grueling. Training with the national team was on another level—far more intense than anything Marcel had experienced at Dragon FC. He had expected a step up, but not this much. The drills were relentless, the pace was faster, and even during breaks, Coach Atangana demanded focus.

Marcel wasn't sure if all U17 national teams trained this intensely, or if it was just Coach Atangana's way. Either way, he welcomed it. The coach wasn't just pushing them physically—he was drilling discipline, tactical awareness, and unity into them.

Now, just one day before the match, the entire squad sat in the conference room, the air thick with anticipation. Some players sat forward, elbows on knees, while others leaned back, arms crossed. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Coach Atangana stepped forward, his sharp gaze scanning the room.

"We are on the precipice of our first leg against Ghana. You've trained hard, and I know it hasn't been easy—especially for those of you new to the team. But understand this: I don't expect perfection. I expect commitment."

His voice was firm, carrying the weight of expectation.

"Football isn't about individuals—it's about a unit. Communicate. Support each other. You already have the talent, but talent alone doesn't win matches. Discipline does. Teamwork does. If you follow what we worked on, I have no doubt we will win."

The room was dead silent. Every player hung onto his words, absorbing every bit of pressure and motivation.

Then, he unfolded a piece of paper.

"Now, I will announce the starting eleven."

Every player in the room tensed. A few exchanged quick glances, while others clenched their fists under the table.

"In goal, Djomo Tchotcheu.

Our defense from left to right will be Kalamou Epesse, Jean Mvondo, Ouambo Toukam, and Ngassa Njike.

Our double pivot in midfield will be Martin Hongla and Felix Djoubairou.

Our attacking midfielder will be Ngono Ngoah.

And in the forward line we will have Marcel Ndonga in the Left wing, Fokem Namekong in the Right wing and Ignatius Ganago as the Striker.

Marcel exhaled deeply, his chest loosening as he heard his name. He made it. He was starting.

Coach Atangana folded his arms. "If your name is on the list, it means you showed the most effort and quality in training. But let me make this clear—this is not a guarantee. If you don't perform, there are others waiting to take your place. Nothing is given. Everything is earned."

Marcel barely heard the rest of the speech. His mind was already racing. The biggest game of his life so far was tomorrow, and he would be walking onto the pitch as a starter.

He couldn't wait to call his mother. She would be so proud. His father, all the way in Canada, would probably send him a voice note full of encouragement. Christina would definitely scream in excitement. Jordan and Dimitri? They would brag to everyone in the neighborhood that their best friend was starting for Cameroon's U17s if they haven't already did.

That night, he slept peacefully for the first time in weeks. In his dreams, he was on the pitch, scoring twice as the crowd chanted his name.

...

The team bus rumbled down the road toward Stade Ahmadou Ahidjo, the atmosphere inside tense yet electric. Some players sat in silence, gazing out the window, lost in thought. Others were smiling, chatting in low voices, or nodding along to the music in their headsets. The faint hum of the engine mixed with scattered conversations, an undercurrent of nervous energy running through the squad.

Marcel sat beside Jean, unable to hide his excitement. His legs bounced slightly, and his hands gripped the seat in front of him. He had been calm five days ago, but now that the match was upon them, his heart was racing. This wasn't just any match—it would be broadcasted on CRTV, with commentators, a real crowd watching from the stands.

He turned to Jean, a wide grin on his face.

"How do you feel? We're about to officially represent Cameroon." Marcel's voice carried a mixture of thrill and disbelief.

Jean leaned back, arms crossed. "I feel good. Excited, just like you." He glanced toward the front of the bus, where Coach Atangana stood, occasionally glancing at his notes. "This is the first step toward our dream—playing professionally, maybe signing for a club in Europe."

Marcel frowned. "Just that?" He shook his head, his expression turning serious. "You have to dream bigger. My dream isn't just to go pro—I want to lead Cameroon to its first World Cup win, to make us the first African nation to do it. I want to cement our country as the greatest footballing nation in Africa."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "That's ambitious, but you have to be realistic too."

Marcel gave him a pointed look. "What's realistic about football? Everything is possible, Jean. Who thought an African player would win the Ballon d'Or before Weah did? Who thought Greece would win the Euros in 2004? We have to believe in something bigger."

Jean chuckled. "I thought you'd say your dream is to be the best player in the world and win the Ballon d'Or."

Marcel shrugged. "I want that too, but that's secondary. I could accept never winning the Ballon d'Or if it meant I scored the winning goal that made Cameroon world champions. Even if I had to retire right after, I'd take it."

Jean stared at him for a moment, then let out a small laugh. "Man… you're crazy."

Marcel smirked. "I don't think it's that crazy."

The bus slowed as it neared the stadium. Marcel turned toward the window, his breath catching in his throat. Even though this wasn't a senior national team match, the number of people gathered outside was more than he had ever played in front of. Fans waved flags, others clutched banners, and the sound of vuvuzelas buzzed faintly in the air.

Marcel felt his chest tighten—not with nerves, but with exhilaration. This was real. This was his first real step into the world of high-level football.

Jean nudged him. "Still dreaming?"

Marcel didn't take his eyes off the crowd as the bus pulled in. "No… just realizing. It's finally happening."

...

Coach Atangana stood in the center of the locker room, his gaze moving over each player, his voice steady and commanding.

"I won't talk much. Over the past few days, we've discussed everything—our tactics, our responsibilities, and what it means to wear this jersey. My job is done. Now, it's your turn to show your worth on the pitch. Prove why you are here. Show the world what it means to be Cameroonian."

His eyes locked onto each of them, his words sinking in.

"We are in Cameroon. At Stade Ahmadou Ahidjo. This is our home. Our fortress. We do not lose here. This stadium has seen the greatest players of our nation fight and win. You are now part of that history. So go out there, play like warriors, play like lions, and give the people a performance worthy of this jersey!"

A brief silence hung in the air, the weight of his words pressing down on them.

Then—

"YES, COACH!"

The players erupted in unison, voices echoing off the walls, fists clenched, eyes burning with determination. Marcel felt his pulse quicken, his heart pounding. This was it. He was about to step onto the field, representing Cameroon, in front of thousands.

The door swung open.

It was time.

...

Good afternoon, dear viewers and lovers of football! We are live here at the Stade Omnisports Ahmadou Ahidjo for this crucial CAF U17 Championship qualifier between the Baby Lions of Cameroon and the Black Starlets of Ghana.

This is the moment when young talents rise, where the future of Cameroonian and African football begins to take shape. We may not know much about every player on the pitch today, but one thing is certain—this match could reveal the next generation of stars who will carry the pride of their nations in the years to come.

The atmosphere is electric, the fans are ready, and the teams are now making their way out of the tunnel, led by the referees. The Baby Lions, draped in their iconic green, red, and yellow, stand tall as they step onto this historic pitch. The Black Starlets of Ghana, in their white kits with black accents, look just as determined. Both teams know what's at stake—victory here brings them one step closer to the U17 AFCON, and beyond that, a potential ticket to the FIFA U17 World Cup.

This is more than just a qualifier. This is about pride, about proving oneself on the continental stage. Cameroon, a nation with a rich footballing history, will want to impose itself here at home, while Ghana, a powerhouse in youth football, will be looking to spoil the party.

We expect intensity, passion, and of course, talent. Will we witness the rise of the next Samuel Eto'o or Rigobert Song tonight? Will Ghana produce another Asamoah Gyan or Michael Essien in this very match?

We are moments away from kickoff, and we can't wait to see how this unfolds. Stay with us as we bring you every touch, every pass, and every goal of this thrilling encounter!