CHAPTER 4: TRAINING

Victor stood at the center of the training pitch, his arms crossed as the morning sun cast a warm glow across the Pirelli Stadium field. He watched the team shuffle awkwardly into position, their expressions a mixture of apprehension and doubt. The previous day's meeting had shaken them, but skepticism still lingered in the air.

The players were used to routine drills—stretch, jog, pass the ball around, and scrimmage for the last hour. But today was different. Today, Victor would introduce them to the Sidewinder Drift, a tactic unlike anything they'd ever encountered. He knew its effectiveness would depend on precision, coordination, and adaptability—qualities this team sorely lacked.

Victor glanced at the coaching staff nearby. James Worthington, the fitness coach, stood with his arms folded, a slight frown creasing his face. Next to him, Mark Hill, the goalkeeping coach, observed with quiet curiosity, his optimism still intact. But Alex Grayson, the assistant coach, didn't bother hiding his skepticism. He leaned against the sideline, arms crossed, his lips curled in a faint smirk. Victor's every move seemed to amuse him, as though he were waiting for the rookie coach to trip over himself.

"Alright," Victor began, his voice cutting through the murmurs on the field. "Today, we're going to start something new. Something that will change how you play football."

He paused, scanning the faces of the players. "This formation is called Sidewinder Drift. It's inspired by the movements of a snake—a sidewinder—known for its diagonal motion and ability to adapt to shifting terrain. This tactic relies on unpredictable runs, fluid rotations, and sharp transitions. It's not about brute force. It's about outthinking and outmaneuvering your opponents."

Victor walked to the whiteboard he had set up at the edge of the pitch. With quick, precise strokes, he drew the 3-4-3 formation. The wingers were positioned wide, the midfielders staggered for rotations, and the defenders coiled tightly at the back, ready to strike in counterattacks.

"It's not going to be easy," he warned. "This formation demands precision and discipline. You can't play it halfheartedly. Every run, every pass, every move matters. If you don't give me your all, it won't work. But if you do… this tactic will leave defenders chasing shadows."

Victor turned back to the group, his gaze sharp. "Let's get started."

The drills began with the wingers, Lucas Akins and David Templeton. Victor walked them through the diagonal runs that formed the backbone of Sidewinder Drift, emphasizing the importance of timing and angles.

"Move diagonally, not straight. You're cutting into space, not running down a line. Use the width of the pitch to your advantage. Make your movements unpredictable. That's how we break their defense."

He demonstrated the movements himself, his quick, deliberate steps carving invisible paths across the grass. From above, it was like watching a snake slither across a sand dune, its body weaving effortlessly to conserve energy while advancing forward.

Akins struggled at first, his movements stiff and mechanical. Templeton's speed gave him an edge, but his hesitation showed his discomfort with such unconventional tactics. Victor watched them closely, correcting their posture, pointing out gaps, and adjusting their positioning.

"Again," he barked. "Don't think too much. Feel the flow. Adapt, like the sidewinder."

The midfielders, Stephen Quinn and Jamie Allen, were next. Victor explained the Ripple Effect, a mechanic that required them to rotate positions seamlessly during buildup play, maintaining unpredictability and control.

"This isn't just passing. It's creating opportunities. When you rotate, you're opening lanes, forcing defenders to move, and making space for the attack. Every rotation has to be purposeful."

Quinn, with his experience, grasped the concept quickly. His movements were fluid, his passes sharp. Allen, younger and less seasoned, hesitated, his uncertainty slowing the drills down. Victor stepped in immediately, his tone firm but constructive.

"Don't overthink it. Trust your instincts. If you see space, take it. If you see an opening, exploit it."

Victor moved to the defenders. Kyle McFadzean, with his aggressive style, struggled to adapt to the tactic's reactive defense. He was used to charging forward, using his strength to dominate attackers. But Sidewinder Drift required him to coil back, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Defense isn't just brute force," Victor said, his voice carrying an edge. "It's strategy. You wait, you watch, you strike when the time is right. Like a snake waiting for its prey. Control your movements."

McFadzean's frustration was evident, but Victor didn't let up. The defenders needed to learn discipline if the tactic was going to work.

The coaching staff watched in stunned silence as Victor orchestrated the training session. His precision and intensity were unlike anything they'd seen before. James Worthington muttered to himself, shaking his head as he watched the players struggle. Mark Hill smiled faintly, impressed by Victor's vision. But Alex Grayson couldn't contain his amusement.

"This is ridiculous," Grayson said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "They can barely keep up. What's the point?"

Victor turned sharply, his gaze locking onto Grayson. The assistant coach froze, his smirk fading under the weight of Victor's Predatory Eyes.

"The point," Victor said coldly, "is that we're not here to stay at the bottom. We're not here to fail. This team needs discipline, strategy, and belief. If you don't see that, you're welcome to leave."

Grayson didn't respond, his face pale. Victor turned away, his focus returning to the players.

The training continued for hours. The players grunted and groaned, their bodies aching from the unfamiliar movements. Sweat soaked their jerseys, their doubts replaced by exhaustion. But slowly, progress began to show.

Akins's movements became sharper, his diagonal runs more confident. Templeton's speed now complemented his positioning, his hesitation fading. Quinn and Allen developed a rhythm, their rotations smooth and synchronized. Even McFadzean started to adjust, his aggression tempered by strategic control.

Victor smiled to himself. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.

As the session ended, Victor gathered the team at the center of the pitch. The players slumped onto the grass, their breaths heavy, their faces flushed.

"You did well today," Victor said, his voice steady. "This isn't going to be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is. You're learning, you're adapting, and you're improving. That's all I can ask for."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the group. "Trust the process. Trust me. Together, we'll make something great."

Victor turned and walked off, leaving the players to reflect on the day's grueling session. The shadow of the serpent lingered on the pitch, a reminder of the challenges ahead.