When the morning sun rose, Winston and his friends went through the formation again. Some of them were beginning to understand it, while others were still confused. By the end of the morning, after they had eaten breakfast, they headed to their respective domes. On their way to the attacking dome, Winston and Oswin walked together.
"I never thought Bongani was such a technician. That formation can change when attacking and then return to its normal shape when the team needs to balance the match. When he retires, he could become one of the best coaches of our era."
"Tell me about it. His explanations and guidance are easy to understand. Man, thank God he's our friend. If someone ever challenged me, I'd go to him and see if we could use that formation-shifting tactic he came up with," Oswin said, gazing at the beautiful sunrise.
"Me too," Winston said, rubbing his chin as he continued thinking about Bongani's formation. This kid is truly gifted. He has the mind of a technician and the instincts of a coach.
The bald, short instructor walked in with his hands clasped behind his back. He strode toward the center of the dome and stopped in front of the youths, sweeping his gaze across them.
"Today's training is a give-and-go, also known as a one-two drill." He shifted to the side, revealing several pieces of football training equipment scattered across the field. "Listen carefully. I won't explain myself twice."
He pointed toward a large square marked with white tape in the middle of the field. "First drill. Player A passes to Player B. Player B, I want you to make a run behind the defender and into the middle. Midfielders, you will position yourselves around this square. Strikers, you will stand inside it."
He then pointed toward another square farther down the flank. "Your opponents will be these instructors and some of my men."
Several muscular instructors and the bald, short instructor's assistants stepped onto the field. They wore white football training kits bearing the Federation Academy emblem. The youths stared at them, some looked pleased. Others exchanged amused glances. One of the instructors was the same man who had criticized them in the cafeteria for being cowards and refusing to challenge one another. Now that he saw the determination in their eyes, he smirked and rolled his eyes before calling the other instructors and assistants over.
"Finally, I can teach that instructor a lesson for criticizing us so loudly in the cafeteria," one player said, gritting his teeth.
"I can't wait for my first attempt," another youth said with a grin. "I will purposely blasting the ball into his face."
The bald, short instructor ignored their comments and continued explaining the drill. "Midfielders, I need precise passes. Strikers, I want perfect body control and accurate finishes toward the hanging nets inside the goal."
The youth were barely listening anymore. They were too busy joking with one another and making bets about who would make the first mistake. The bald, short instructor's expression twitched, he raised his whistle to his lips.
Tweet!
The sharp sound silenced the dome, he pointed toward one of the youths standing at the front.
"You. Start." He then pointed towards another player. "And you. Join him."
The two youths stepped forward, suddenly much less confident than they had been moments earlier. The bald, short instructor lowered his whistle.
The two youths looked at each other, smirked, and shrugged. They then took their positions, waiting for the signal to mark Player A and Player B. Player A stood inside a wide, thin square, while Player B stood inside a taller square marked with white tape.
The whistle blew.
The ball rolled toward Player A, who immediately lobbed it over the instructors and the bald, short instructor's men positioned inside the large square. The bald, short instructor smiled as the ball whooshed through the air.
One of the instructors inside the large square jumped and headed the ball toward his teammates. They quickly dribbled it between themselves before one of them struck a curved pass toward the midfielder.
The ball curled smoothly through the air, the midfielder in Player A's position scrambled. He hesitated, unsure whether he should make a run or stay in place.
"Chest-trap it and go again," the bald, short instructor called out. The midfielder immediately followed the instruction.
The midfielder tried to chest the ball, but when it collided with his chest, the impact sent him staggering several steps backward. He wanted to rub his sore chest, but the bald, short instructor immediately blew his whistle and pointed toward the striker, who looked terrified.
The midfielder steeled himself, sprinted forward, and blasted the ball again. This time, he overhit the pass. The striker stretched out his foot and used his cleat toes to redirect the ball behind him. He quickly regained his balance and sprinted toward the large central square.
One instructor sprinted toward him, forcing the striker to panic. As the striker looked at the men charging toward him, he swung at the ball too hard. The ball sailed over them and smashed against the crossbar. The bald, short instructor blew his whistle.
"Next."
Winston and Oswin looked at each other, nodded, and walked toward their positions. Everyone was shocked when Winston took Player A's position instead of Player B's.
The bald, short instructor looked at them and rubbed his chin. I wonder what this kid Winston is thinking. After Sebastian, he is another interesting one. Duma, you truly found an interesting kid.
The bald, short instructor blew his whistle. Winston blasted the ball with his inner foot, sending it curling toward Oswin. Oswin grinned as the ball slipped past the instructors trying to intercept it. With a knee-high leap, he trapped the ball with his outer foot and immediately began dribbling into the large square. The instructors rushed toward him, Oswin grinned as they closed in. Just as they began pressuring him, he blasted the ball toward Winston.
Winston chest-trapped it as the instructors turned their attention toward him. He rolled the ball a few steps in front of himself before chipping it toward Oswin, who was already running toward the mannequins ahead of him.
Oswin cushioned the ball forward with his knee before striking it with a knuckleball technique. The ball curved around the standing mannequin and slammed into the net.
The net rang out.
The bald, short instructor blew his whistle. "Congratulations. You two are the first players to beat your instructors." He walked toward them, a faint smile on his face. "Great chemistry. In attacking football, it isn't only about staying in your position. It's also about switching roles. If a striker is heavily marked, it is your duty to switch positions. Defenders won't always focus on every attacker. They will focus on the players they consider the biggest threats."
He blew his whistle again. Two more players stepped forward and attempted their own tactics, but their chemistry was poor, and they failed the drill. Another pair tried to copy Winston and Oswin's tactic, but without the same understanding between them, their attempt quickly fell apart.
Then Darwin and Duke stepped into their respective positions. Duke took Player A, while Darwin took Player B. The bald, short instructor blew his whistle. Instead of lobbing the ball, Duke struck it with his outer foot, sending a low pass across the ground. The unexpected pass caught the instructor off guard for a moment.
The ball rolled toward Darwin, who was already making a run into the large central square. Darwin received it and immediately dribbled through the instructors pressuring him. He weaved between them before running toward Duke. Seeing that Darwin was trying to copy Winston and Oswin's tactic, the instructors quickly backed away, preparing for another aerial pass. Darwin stopped the ball beneath his cleat and looked at the retreating instructors with a furrowed brow.
"Why are you running away? It's just football." He gestured with one hand. "Come at me."
There were six instructors inside the central square. One of them glanced at the others behind him and nodded. Three instructors rushed forward. Darwin weaved around them one after another with his impressive dribbling ability. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he passed the ball to Duke, who immediately returned it into open space.
The exchange continued—for three minutes, the two moved the ball between themselves, forcing the instructors to chase them around the square. Eventually, Darwin grew bored, he created enough space and unleashed a long-range shot—the ball flew toward the goal.
"Great skills, you two," the bald, short instructor said. "But refrain from showing off against your opponents. It can lead to mistakes, and it may cause your teammates to dislike playing with you. That can eventually put you on the bench." He paused, looking at Darwin. "Nevertheless, your tactic can also be effective. If you keep making your opponents chase you, you can tire them out."
The instructor nodded. "Next."