Soccer System: All the Skills, One Player!

Over the next few days, Edward "Eddie" Thompson, the B-Team's head coach, was much talked about and cursed among the boys.

Thompson was the kind of coach who carried a heavy reputation. With passages at many smaller clubs in Europe when he was a third-rate player, he became a coach after his career ended to keep earning some money. He put on weight and neglected his own health, but thanks to his years as a player, he gained a strong philosophy.

"No player reaches the top without a lot of effort, dedication and the desire to vomit during training." He said as soon as the team was assembled. "During all my years in soccer, I've seen countless players who are much more talented than the ones you see on TV. On my trip to South America, I saw players as talented as or even more so than Neymar and Messi, but do you know what sets them apart?"

Eddie lightly tapped Arthur twice on the forehead with his index finger as he stood in front of him.

"The mentality?" Arthur asked, confused.

The coach nodded. "The mentality, of course. Many players rely too much on their talents, forget to develop their physique and therefore lose their way. Of course, that's my philosophy. But I also believe it's the future of professional soccer."

So, from the very first training session, Coach Eddie showed why even the A-Team boys feared him.

Lucas soon realized that the coming week would test not only his muscles but also his mental stamina and determination to be there, so far from home.

That afternoon, the sun was being overcast by thick clouds, which left the training ground in a damp, almost gloomy penumbra.

Lucas and the other players were doing another collective training session to show Eddie what they were good at, but this time, they were carrying weights on their heels. It was only two kilos on each leg, but it made a vast difference between running, passing and even moving around.

"Seriously, what are these things for?" Denis, the team's slacker, was looking at his right shin when he asked Lucas.

"If you can do everything you do with weights on your legs, then you'll do it even faster when you don't!" Eddie answered him from the other side of the pitch, as if he had heard him perfectly.

At the end of the collective training session, the score was much lower than the day before: 2-1 to the team in the yellow vests.

Lucas and the others were panting on the pitch, looking tired, as Thompson approached.

"First exercise completed. Now mark what I'm going to say. Defenders, practice interceptions and quick tackles. Midfielders focus on ball recovery and offensive transition. Forwards, training on finishing and positioning without the ball."

Lucas, who would have been assigned to two blocks because he was an attacking midfielder, felt a twinge of laziness. However, taking a deep breath, he straightened his body, because he couldn't be lazy after being so close and having entered someone else's place in this sieve.

So the next few days turned into a grueling routine. In the morning, they had normal lessons, and in the afternoon Thompson put them through endurance exercises that would make even the strongest of players question their abilities. Running from one side of the pitch to the other in short, explosive bursts, with no chance for rest, was just the beginning. Thompson wanted each of them to have "reaction power and mental toughness to match", as he repeated almost coldly.

On the second day, Lucas could feel the sweat running down his face as he completed the last lap of a circuit.

"Is that all you offer, Lucas?" Thompson's voice cracked through Lucas' fatigue like a whip, forcing him to raise his head.

"No, sir! I can do more!" Lucas replied between gasps, trying to catch his breath and showing the determined look he kept inside.

"Then show me. I won't accept anything less here." Thompson turned and walked away, leaving no room for failure.

In the afternoon, the training sessions focused on attack and defense techniques, dividing the group into two teams that simulated an intense match. Lucas, being almost an evolving striker, needed to do twice as much as ordinary strikers if he was to be really useful.

Even so, Eddie's guidance was merciless; when Lucas hesitated to intercept a pass or missed a shooting chance, Thompson would stop the exercise, forcing the team to repeat everything from the start.

"Lucas, your shot was weak. Go to the back line and watch the play from there. I want to see you understand the mentality of a goalkeeper." Thompson instructed him with a critical eye.

Alex, standing next to Lucas, gave him a sympathetic look as he watched him reluctantly move away from the defense. Thompson's training sessions were demanding both physically and psychologically. Lucas's frustration was mounting, and he wasn't receiving any mission notifications, but somehow it ignited a spark of resistance within him.

On the fourth day, when Lucas entered the classroom, fatigue already weighed on his shoulders like a backpack full of stones.

Raphael, next to him, looked even worse - his face was pale, and he staggered with every step as if the effort of training had drained him of any remaining energy. He wasn't just training on the pitch like Lucas, but also on the treadmill at the gym to develop his speed in spurts.

"You're looking like a couple of zombies." Lucy commented in a joking tone, disguising the concern that her slightly frowning eyebrows displayed.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Raphael, unable to plan any response, just slumped his head on the table with a weary sigh.

Lucas, on the other hand, forced a smile. "It's just the coach. The guy's a machine. He trains us as if we were each competing in the Champions League final."

Lucy giggled a little, taking a seat at the table next to Lucas. "Really? He's going that hard? Wait, I thought you were on the B-Team, not the army." Lucy said with a giggle.

"Yeah... but apparently Eddie doesn't see much difference." Lucas let out a deep sigh and relaxed his shoulders. "He believes that mentality counts for more than talent. So... well, let's just say he's determined to turn us into little soldiers."

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Lucy nodded and opened her mouth to say something, but the teacher entered the room and everyone returned to their seats. During the lesson, Lucy glanced worriedly in Lucas and Raphael's direction, but there wasn't much she could do to help them, and they didn't seem to want to help either. It was just the inevitable tiredness of getting into a new routine.

At this frenetic pace, the week went on like a relentless storm for Lucas and his B-Team colleagues. Soon, the weekend arrived — a mirage of rest that was quickly dispelled by Eddie Thompson's words on Friday at the end of training.

"Saturday will be the longest training session you've ever done. If you think this week has been intense, tomorrow you'll understand the true meaning of dedication."

Saturday dawned with a pale sky and a cold breeze that cut across the training ground. Lucas and the other players gathered on the pitch before seven in the morning, some with expressions of expectation, others with a more serious countenance, and prepared for what was to come.

Thompson was already there, waiting for them with his arms crossed and an enigmatic smile under his white moustache.

"I hope you slept well. Today is the day to test every drop of sweat you've shed this week."

The first few hours were endurance exercises. Thompson divided them into groups and every fifteen minutes they took turns running circuits, muscle-building exercises and short sprints. At one point, Lucas was crouched with his hands on his knees, panting, while Eddie circled the players like a hawk watching its prey.

"What's the matter, Lucas? Are you thirsty? Would you like some water?"

Lucas stood up with effort, wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm. "No, sir! I'm just catching my breath!"

"Good, because you'll need it for the next round. Now, come on, all of you!"

And so it went. Every time one boy tired, Thompson pulled them back, making them run until their legs burned like fire.

By the time the sun had descended over the horizon, Lucas and the others were exhausted, their bodies bent from the day's enormous effort. Thompson gathered them in the center of the field, and strangely, he seemed happier than ever.

"Congratulations, Team-B. You've made it through your first week of training. I can't say I'm impressed yet, but I've seen progress. On Monday, we have a friendly at Liverpool's facilities. It will be an opportunity for you to test yourselves in a real game and prove that I'm not just a crazy old man with a strange philosophy."

Arthur, his body clearly exhausted, gave an excited smile, while Raphael exchanged a look of excitement with Lucas. The possibility of playing a friendly with an unknown opponent, and even more so in the facilities of a club like Liverpool, was a prize that almost made up for the exhaustion.

"And since I know you wouldn't have enough energy to play if we carried on like this, tomorrow will be a day of total rest." Thompson paused, watching the wave of relief that swept through the group. "But... before that, I'm having dinner. Barbecue. And not just any barbecue; the best in town. Consider it compensation for the little hell I've put you through this week."

There was no need to say anything more. The announcement echoed a celebratory shout among the boys, and their tiredness was momentarily forgotten.

"Barbecue! It's been a long time since I've had barbecue!" Raphael said, stretching already.