Playing Against The U17s II

After the starting lineup was announced, the coach stepped aside and opened a duffel bag sitting near his feet. One by one, he pulled out red training bibs and handed them to the eleven players he'd just named.

"Get these on," he said, addressing the players. "Then head out and arrange yourselves on the pitch."

Sebastian took the bib handed to him and pulled it on over his Malmö FF training top. The thin red mesh clung lightly to his torso, a bright signal that he was part of the squad about to kick off. He adjusted it over his shoulders, then looked around.

A few steps away stood Martin, Felix, and Diego, none of them called into the starting eleven. Their expressions were mostly neutral, but Sebastian knew his friends well enough to sense the sting hiding just beneath the surface.

He made his way over to them.

"You guys good?" he asked, his voice low as he came up beside Felix.

Felix gave a faint nod. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'll probably get a run in later."

Sebastian turned to Diego.

"I'm good, bro," Diego replied, forcing a grin. "Just wish I was starting, that's all."

Then to Martin, who gave a shrug. "I'm not mad. Just a little disappointed. But it is what it is."

Sebastian gave a quiet nod. "Stay ready. All of you. It's not over. Your time will come. And when it does, make the most of it."

He clapped Martin's shoulder and gave Felix a quick nudge with his elbow before turning away and jogging back toward the pitch.

The starters were already taking their positions.

Sebastian found his place in central midfield. To his left stood Noah Ström, adjusting his boots as he took in the field ahead. When Noah noticed Sebastian, he looked up and gave him a nod.

Sebastian nodded back.

Then his eyes shifted forward.

Across the halfway line, the U17 team stood in formation, wearing green bibs. They looked organized, confident, and already shaped into a solid 4-3-3. Their midfielders were spread just right, their wingers wide and alert.

Directly in front of Sebastian stood William Enarsson, posted at the center circle with the ball at his feet, ready to kick off.

*FWEEEEE*

The referee raised his whistle to his lips and blew.

William tapped the ball backward to Noah.

Noah quickly slid the ball sideways to Sebastian.

And in that split second, the U17s exploded forward. Their forwards and midfielders surged ahead, pressing with intensity, determined to win the ball back before Malmö FF's U15s could even settle into rhythm.

The match had begun.

**********

Fifteen minutes had passed since kickoff, and Sebastian had barely touched the ball.

He understood why.

It wasn't that the U17s were so much better than them.

They were better than most of them, that was true. But what made the real difference was something else entirely.

Their chemistry. Their movement. The speed of their passing. The understanding between their players. All of it clicked with a rhythm that felt like they were just repeating a training drill and it frustrated him.

Their compact formation gave them complete control over the middle of the pitch. They used quick, short passes to move the ball with ease, gliding past pressing attempts before they could develop. Every time the U15s tried to step up or intercept, the ball was already gone.

Sebastian and the rest were stuck defending for long spells. It wasn't just a midfield issue, it was all over the pitch. The U17s didn't just outplay one line of pressure, they bypassed two or three in seconds. It left the U15s scrambling, forced to retreat again and again.

They were defending with everyone behind the ball.

Every single one of them, except their center forward, William Enarsson, was tucked deep in their half, trying to hold their shape and not get pulled out of position.

That was the only reason they hadn't conceded yet.

That, and Sebastian.

If not for him, they might have already gone behind.

Stationed just ahead of the center backs, he'd instinctively dropped deeper into the defensive midfield role once the pattern of the match had become clear to him. It wasn't something the coach had instructed, but Sebastian saw the problem unfolding in real time and adjusted.

His vision had been critical.

Time and again, he intercepted passes meant to slip through to Onur Körhan or Teddy Bergqvist, the U17 attackers who had been buzzing around like hornets between the lines.

Sebastian read the angles early, moved a second before the pass was played, and cut it off cleanly. It gave Noah Ström, Anton Karlberg, and Lucas Friberg, the other midfielders, the freedom to push and press higher while he swept behind them.

But if things keep going like this, with us just defending, we're gonna lose, Sebastian thought.

Once again, the U17s came forward, led by Oliver Fredin in central midfield. He had been a threat since the match started. He breezed past Noah with a simple body feint and now carried the ball straight toward Sebastian.

But Oliver had learned something in the opening quarter of an hour.

He couldn't take Sebastian on one-on-one. He had tried multiple times during the game but had failed to come out on top, so this time he didn't try to.

Instead, he glanced left and rolled the ball sideways to Mattias, their right central midfielder, who was sprinting beside him in support. Fredin took it in stride and, without hesitation, slipped a through ball between Elias Adegbenro and Filip Larsson, the U15s' right wing back and right center back.

It was a perfectly timed pass.

Onur Körhan, the U17s' left winger, had peeled away into space behind the line. He latched onto the ball before Elias could recover and darted toward the 18 yard box.

As he approached the edge, he lifted his left leg, shaping it as if to swing the ball into the box.

Elias, already closing fast, threw himself into a slide tackle, anticipating the cross.

But Onur faked it.

He pulled his foot back at the last second, letting Elias slide past harmlessly across the turf.

Then, with his right foot, he whipped the ball into the box low and hard.

It was deflected.

The ball pinballed off Filip's shin and bounced out to the edge of the box, where Oliver had already arrived. He stepped up and pulled his leg back to shoot with his right foot.

Two U15 defenders lunged in to block, throwing their bodies into the path of the shot.

But the ball never came.

It was a fake.

He pushed the ball further to his right to create a better angle, completely deceiving the defenders who had just committed to the block.

He was about to let fly again.

And then a blur of movement.

A body crashed into him from the side and nicked the ball cleanly off his toe.

He stumbled, arms flailing, and spun around in disbelief, and all he saw was Sebastian sprinting with the ball on the attack.

Immediately after the rebound had gotten to Oliver, he had started running at him to try and get the ball from him, and the extra touches he took to fake the defenders and better position the ball had given Sebastian enough time to get to him and cleanly tackle the ball off him.

The counterattack had begun.