FIRST DAY

Alonso kept his gaze forward, ignoring the weight of Javi's stare as he approached the field. The sun had barely risen, but the air was thick with the promise of a warm day. 

He adjusted the straps of his small backpack, his fingers tightening for a moment as he walked past Javi without a word.

But Javi wasn't one to be ignored.

Just as Alonso neared the locker room entrance, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, halting his steps.

"Where do you think you're going?" Javi's voice was low, but there was a sharp edge to it.

Alonso turned his head slightly, meeting Javi's gaze without hesitation. "Training," he said simply.

Javi smirked. "Oh, so you think you're big now? Just 'cause you got a shot with Coach Herrera? You think that means something?"

Alonso shrugged off Javi's hand and took a step closer, lowering his voice so only Javi could hear. "Stay away from me, Javi."

Javi's eyebrows lifted in surprise, clearly not expecting Alonso to push back. 

There was a brief silence between them before Javi let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"This isn't over," Javi muttered, stepping back.

Alonso didn't respond. He turned and entered the locker room, his heart still pounding in his chest. He had never stood up to Javi like that before. 

But today was different. Today, he wasn't just another kid in the neighborhood. Today, he was a player.

Inside, the air was filled with the sound of chatter and laughter. 

The other boys were already getting ready, tying their cleats, stretching, or joking around. The scent of sweat and damp socks clung to the room, but there was an energy here—something that made Alonso's pulse quicken.

"Yo, playmaker!"

Alonso turned to see Miguel grinning at him from across the room, leaning against the bench. "How was your weekend?"

Alonso smiled slightly as he dropped his bag on the bench. "It was good."

Miguel smirked. "Good, huh? That's it? You score four goals in one game and suddenly you're too cool to tell us about it?"

A few of the other boys chuckled, and Alonso shook his head. "Nah, it was just another game."

Miguel laughed. "Right. 'Just another game.'" He nudged another teammate. 

"You hear that? Man drops four goals and acts like it's nothing."

Alonso felt a small swell of pride but didn't want to get too caught up in it. He had a lot to prove, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Before the teasing could continue, the locker room door swung open, and Coach Herrera stepped inside. The room quieted instantly as the players straightened up, their chatter fading. 

Coach Herrera scanned the room, his sharp eyes landing on each of them before settling on Alonso.

"Buenos días, muchachos." His voice was firm but not unkind. "I hope you all had a good weekend. Today, we work."

He looked directly at Alonso and gave a small nod. "Welcome to the team, Alonso."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the group. Alonso nodded respectfully. "Gracias, Coach."

Coach Herrera clapped his hands together. "Alright, get moving. Stretch, warm-up, and then we start drills."

The boys quickly got to work, pulling on their jerseys, tying their cleats tighter, and heading out onto the field. 

As Alonso followed, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He had made it this far.

Now, he just had to prove he belonged.

The morning sun beat down on the field as Alonso and the rest of the team moved through their drills. They started with endurance training—laps around the field at a steady pace. 

Alonso kept his breathing controlled, his legs burning but refusing to slow down. Coach Herrera shouted for them to keep their form, to push through fatigue.

Next came agility drills. Cones were set up, forcing them to weave through tight spaces with precision. Alonso focused on every turn, keeping his body low, his footwork sharp.

 The coach watched, occasionally correcting someone's stance or movement. When Alonso slipped past the last cone and sprinted forward, he caught a nod of approval from Herrera.

Then came passing drills. They worked in pairs, practicing short passes, long passes, and one-touch plays. Alonso partnered with Miguel, and the two developed a rhythm quickly.

"Nice touch, playmaker," Miguel commented after Alonso executed a crisp pass through a small gap.

Alonso grinned but stayed focused. 

He couldn't afford distractions.

As the morning progressed, Coach Herrera watched closely, calling out instructions, correcting movements, and occasionally stopping a drill to demonstrate something himself. 

Alonso absorbed everything, determined to soak in every lesson.

Then came the scrimmage—a full-field match simulation. Alonso was placed in the midfield, his role clear: control the pace, distribute the ball, and create opportunities.

 The intensity skyrocketed as players fought for possession. Every decision had to be made in an instant.

Miguel received a pass and sprinted up the right wing. Alonso saw the play developing and positioned himself at the edge of the box.

 The ball came flying toward him, and in one smooth motion, he controlled it with his chest, let it drop, and struck it cleanly toward the goal.

The keeper dove—but the ball hit the top corner.

A goal.

A few of his teammates clapped, and Miguel grinned. "Damn, playmaker. You sure it was just 'luck' the other day?"

Alonso smirked but stayed composed.

By the time Coach Herrera finally blew his whistle to signal the end, Alonso's legs felt like lead. His shirt clung to his body, drenched in sweat, and his lungs burned, but he felt alive. He had given everything.

Coach Herrera walked to the center of the field. "Good work today. Some of you impressed me. Others need to push harder. Alonso—" he turned to him, his eyes sharp, "—you have talent, but talent alone won't take you far. Discipline and consistency will. Keep showing up like this."

Alonso nodded his chest swelling with pride. "I will, Coach."

As they headed back toward the locker room, Miguel slapped Alonso on the back. "Not bad for your first day, playmaker."

Alonso grinned. "Thanks."

Miguel smirked. "Just don't slow down. We've got a long season ahead."

Alonso nodded. He wouldn't slow down. Not for anything.