A few minutes after James made his announcements, everyone had been divided into three teams. Valen and Sam got paired in the same team. That was how their friendship started previously. Sam would be playing in his natural position as a ten while Valen would be operating from the left wing in a 4-2-3-1 formation.
The rest of his teammates were good in their own right. About three of them, he remembered that they would become nailed-on starters. The rest fell into the category of squad players, rotating in and out depending on form and fitness. Adding Valen into that list made sense. Based on what most people remembered of him, he was closer to a squad player than anything else. A more accurate term would be a warm body, but this was when the coach still had quite a bit of hope for him. The dynamic on paper seemed balanced. Everyone had something to prove.
While Valen was still running through mental notes of the people around him, someone bumped him from behind.
"Alright, listen up punk," the voice said, loud enough to be heard by a few others nearby. "We are all trying to get into the starting lineup so do not try and bring us down. Even if you are normally so shit, at least play half decent for this training match, you got that?"
Valen turned around to look at who was talking. The moment he saw who it was, he nearly burst into laughter. It was Alex. Alex Serry. His old bench partner.
Alex was a goalkeeper. He had decent reflexes and okay height. He might have even had a shot at more consistent minutes if not for one glaring issue. His decision making and coordination were horrible. Valen did not know how it was possible, but Alex had the worst bozo tendencies he had seen in any player. It was like he had a talent for turning routine moments into mistakes.
What made it worse was his attitude. Alex walked around like he was the first name on the team sheet. Even though he spent more time on the bench than anyone else, he always carried himself like a star. And for some reason, he had a habit of trying to pick on Valen.
Valen did not even reply. He just walked away and went to stand on his position on the left flank.
"What is with that guy?" Sam asked, appearing beside him.
Valen shrugged. "I had two ACL injuries and now my body just is not the same. So he thinks I am deadweight."
"That is harsh," Sam said quietly. "Shouldn't teammates support each other more?"
Valen gave another shrug. "Maybe. I don't know. I'm used to it now. The only way to shut them up is on the pitch."
Sam gave a small smile. "Then make sure you are get into good positions. I'll help you shut them up."
Valen smiled back. "Alright then."
The three teams were called Team 1, Team 2, and Team 3. The setup was simple. Each team would play two matches against the other two teams. That way everyone had an opportunity to impress. The games were not full-length matches. Each one was forty minutes long with no halftime.
The first match was Team 1 against Team 2. Valen was in Team 1, so he would be on the pitch from the start.
An assistant coach blew his whistle. The players took their positions. Team 1 took the center pass, and the game began.
The first five minutes were slow. Neither team looked willing to take risks. Most of the play involved moving the ball around the midfield. Short passes. Backward passes. Lots of scanning. Everyone was being cautious. They were still figuring out each other's tendencies. No one wanted to be the first to make a mistake.
Until Sam changed everything.
Seven minutes in, Team 1 regained possession again and began their usual pattern of short passes. The ball came to Sam, who had his back to goal. Two midfielders were marking him tightly. Everyone expected him to recycle the ball. Maybe pass it backward or to the side. But Sam had other ideas.
He turned sharply and burst between the two midfielders. The movement caught everyone off guard. Before they could react, he was already driving toward the defensive midfielder.
Sam did a few stepovers and then sent a sharp diagonal pass to the left flank.
The ball reached Valen, who had already started his run.
Valen took it in stride with his right foot and continued his run forward. His heart was pounding. He was one-on-one with the right back. That had not happened often in the past. Most of the time he would pass back. Play safe. Rely on overlaps or quick one-twos. But now, there was no support near him. It was just him and the defender.
Maxwell, the right back, looked confident. He knew who Valen was. Everyone knew. The winger who never took on his man. The player who always looked like he was holding something back. For defenders like Maxwell, this was the perfect scenario. No danger.
Valen slowed for a moment, then dropped his shoulder and began a series of stepovers. Maxwell shifted to his left, anticipating the cut inside.
Valen dipped his body again, shaping for the inside, then shifted sharply to the outside and slipped the ball between Maxwell's legs. He sprinted around him, collected the ball again, and crossed it into the box with his left foot.
The cross was decent. Not perfect, but it reached the striker. Unfortunately, the striker was outmuscled by the central defenders and could not get a clean shot. The ball was headed away.
"Nice one Valen," Sam shouted, giving him a thumbs up.
Valen nodded and jogged back.
Maxwell walked by him and bumped his shoulder. "You just got lucky," he muttered.
Valen ignored him. His pulse was still racing. But not from anxiety. From excitement. For the first time in what felt like forever, his body had responded the way he wanted it to. The movements he had visualized had actually happened. There was no delay. No resistance. No pain.
The system. That strange phenomenon that had restored him. It had really worked.
Valen allowed a small smile to cross his face as he tracked back.
Time to teach these bitches a lesson.