The Medicals

They exited the main building through a side door, stepping into the open air. The late morning sun was high now, casting soft light over the academy campus. A paved walkway stretched out ahead of them, bordered by trimmed hedges and neatly spaced lampposts. The place was active but quiet, orderly in a way that made the whole setup feel serious.

Coach Henrik walked ahead, leading them down the path. Behind the main structure, another building came into view, a white and grey complex with large tinted windows and the Malmö FF crest displayed near the entrance. It was smaller than the main academy hall but still modern and striking. The words Akademins Hälsocenter were printed above the sliding doors.

"That's our medical wing," Coach Henrik said, glancing back. "It houses our physiotherapy rooms, fitness diagnostics lab, and consultation offices. Everything a player needs to stay in top condition."

As they reached the entrance, the doors slid open automatically, releasing a soft burst of cool air. Inside, the building was calm and sterile, like a private clinic. The floors gleamed. The walls were decorated with framed posters showing anatomical diagrams and injury prevention guides. A sign at the front pointed in different directions: Reception, Exam Rooms, Rehab and Recovery, Hydrotherapy, and Lab Testing.

A receptionist stood behind a glass counter, speaking quietly into a phone. She gave a quick nod to Coach Henrik as they passed.

"In here," Henrik said, pushing open a side door labelled Physical Assessment.

The room beyond looked like a small indoor training space. There was gym flooring underfoot, a treadmill on one end, and a stationary bike on the other. In the center stood a squat white machine with straps and a control panel. Along the wall, medical posters showed joint positions and muscle groups.

Waiting inside was a tall man in black trousers, a navy Malmö FF polo shirt, and a lab coat on top. He looked to be in his late forties, clean-shaven, sharp-eyed, with a tablet in one hand.

"Sebastian Falk?" the man said.

Sebastian nodded.

"Welcome. I'm Dr. Mathias Ekström, head of sports medicine here at the academy. We'll be doing a standard intake assessment today. We'll be checking fitness indicators, joint mobility, muscle symmetry, and things like that."

He gave a quick glance at Henrik, who stood just beside Sebastian's parents.

"Shall we begin?"

Sebastian gave a small nod. Coach Henrik offered an encouraging pat on the shoulder but didn't say anything.

"Alright," Dr. Ekström said, setting the tablet down and gesturing toward the stationary bike. "Let's get started with a warmup."

Sebastian mounted the bike as instructed. The pedals were cool under his feet, the room silent except for the low hum of machines and the occasional tap on the doctor's tablet. Dr. Ekström set a timer and adjusted the resistance settings.

"Start pedaling. I'll increase the resistance every five minutes. Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable," he said.

Sebastian began. At first, it felt like nothing, a light spin, barely any effort. But after five minutes, the resistance ticked upward. His thighs began to burn, the rhythm getting heavier with each turn of the crank. Sweat formed on his brow, but he didn't complain. He kept his eyes focused on a spot on the wall, controlling his breathing.

Another five minutes passed. Then another. By the twenty-minute mark, Sebastian's shirt clung to his back. His legs were aching, and his breaths came harder, but he didn't stop. It was just the warmup, and he wasn't going to look weak.

Finally, the doctor glanced at the screen and said, "That'll do."

Sebastian slowed to a stop and carefully dismounted. His calves quivered slightly. He stood upright, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and looked at the doctor.

"Next is the Biodex system. Sit here," Dr. Ekström said, motioning toward the chair-like machine.

Sebastian sat as directed. Straps were fastened across his waist and chest. His legs were fixed into padded braces that would test the force of his extensions and retractions.

"This measures the strength and balance between muscle groups in your legs. I'll need you to extend and retract your leg five times on my count. Then we'll increase the resistance."

Sebastian followed every instruction. The first round wasn't too difficult. But by the third round, the resistance made each extension feel like kicking through sandbags, especially on his left leg.

He powered through.

When it was over, Dr. Ekström adjusted the settings again, glancing at the data.

"Now treadmill. We'll measure your aerobic capacity."

The treadmill had a fitted mask nearby, which Sebastian was asked to wear. It covered his nose and mouth, connected by tubes to a small computer.

"You'll run at increasing speeds until I say stop. Breathe normally."

The first few minutes were easy. He ran as he often did on his own. But soon the incline shifted. The treadmill tilted upward, and then the speed increased. The mask made breathing feel heavier, and his lungs worked harder with every inhale. He focused on his stride. Left. Right. Left. Right. His heartbeat thudded in his chest.

After fifteen minutes, his thighs were screaming again. His arms were damp with sweat. But he didn't break stride.

"Alright. That's good," Dr. Ekström said suddenly.

Sebastian slowed to a stop, stepped off the treadmill, and removed the mask. He was breathing heavily now, chest rising and falling. The doctor handed him a towel, then jotted something onto his tablet.

"We're halfway through."

Sebastian glanced at his doctor with his eyebrows raised. 

We're just halfway through. I thought we were done, he thought.

The rest of the evaluation went by in a blur. There were flexibility tests, shoulder mobility measurements, jump height analysis with motion trackers, and bone density scans. A nurse came in to take blood and urine samples. Sebastian followed every instruction without complaint. The staff were efficient and calm, answering questions when they arose and explaining each test with clarity.

All the while, Coach Henrik remained present. Sometimes watching quietly, sometimes leaning over to ask the doctor a question in a low voice, always keeping an eye on Sebastian's progress.

After a final balance test, standing on one foot, eyes closed, arms extended, Dr. Ekström tapped a few last entries into his tablet and stepped aside.

"We're done for now. You did well."

Sebastian looked at him, catching his breath.

"Did I… pass?"

Dr. Ekström gave a small smile. "This wasn't a test. We just wanted to gather data on you."

Coach Henrik added, "Exactly. You've already been accepted into the academy. These assessments help us understand your body, your strengths, and any vulnerabilities or hidden injuries that might be developing. That way we can build a training plan that suits you and keeps you healthy."

Sebastian gave a quiet nod, absorbing the explanation. He had heard of transfers in his previous life failing to go through because the player failed their medicals.

Even though he didn't think he'd fail if it was like that, he was still relieved it wasn't a test.

He felt lighter now, as if a pressure he hadn't even fully acknowledged had lifted.

Henrik patted him on the shoulder again. "And from what I could see, even if it was a test, you aced it."

As Dr. Ekström walked past, still looking at the data on his tablet, he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Henrik to hear, "Well, 'aced' is a fucking understatement."

Henrik's eyebrows lifted slightly. He turned toward the doctor, then looked back at the family.

"Sebastian," he said. "Why don't you step out with your parents for a bit? I'll be with you in a while. Just want to have a quick word with Dr. Ekström."

Thomas nodded. "Sure."

They turned and made their way toward the door. As they stepped into the hallway, Sebastian couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He had heard the doctor's murmur too.

I guess I did more than pass the medicals.