Early March 2010
The whistle signaling the end of the formal Juveniles training session always brought a mix of exhaustion and a burgeoning sense of accomplishment. But for Luca, it also marked the beginning of a new, more personal phase of his football education. As the other players gathered their bags and headed towards the showers, he approached Alexis, a hopeful glint in his eyes.
"Hey, Alexis," Luca said, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "You got a few more minutes? I was hoping we could work on some of that… you know… the stuff I'm still rough around the edges with."
Alexis, who was effortlessly juggling the ball with his feet while chatting with another teammate, nodded without hesitation. "Sure, Flaco. What's on the menu today? More attempts at looking like Ronaldinho?" He grinned, a playful jab at Luca's earlier, ill-fated attempts at emulating the Brazilian maestro.
Luca flushed slightly but laughed it off. "Nah, no magic tricks today. I was hoping we could work on… just the basics of being a forward, I guess. Breaking that defender mentality. How you move, how you create space…"
Alexis's expression turned serious. He stopped juggling the ball, catching it cleanly in his hands. "Alright. Let's do it. What do you have in mind?"
Their extra sessions became a regular fixture after the official training concluded. They would often find a quiet corner of the training pitch, the fading afternoon light casting long shadows across the manicured grass. Alexis, with a patient and encouraging demeanor, would guide Luca through a series of drills. He'd demonstrate the subtle shift of weight needed for a quick change of direction, the delicate touch required to keep the ball glued to his boot during a dribble, the explosive burst of pace to lose a defender in the final third.
"See, Flaco," Alexis would explain, his voice calm and clear, "it's about anticipation. Knowing where the space will be before it opens up. And it's about confidence. You have to believe you can take on a defender, that you can create that opportunity." He'd then demonstrate, his movements fluid and precise, leaving Luca slightly awestruck.
Luca would try to replicate the movements, his taller frame often feeling unwieldy in comparison. His initial attempts at quick changes of direction often ended in a stumble, his dribbling lacked the effortless flow of Alexis, and his passes sometimes betrayed the ingrained caution of a defender, opting for the safer option rather than the incisive through ball.
But Alexis was relentlessly supportive. He'd offer specific feedback, breaking down each movement into smaller, more manageable steps. "Try keeping your center of gravity lower, Flaco. Bend your knees more. Feel the ball with the inside and outside of your foot, like it's an extension of you." He never made Luca feel clumsy or inadequate, instead focusing on the small improvements, the slight adjustments that showed progress.
Luca, in turn, was a diligent and determined student. He absorbed Alexis's instructions with focused intensity, repeating the drills until his muscles burned and his lungs ached. He was consciously trying to rewire his footballing brain, to overwrite the years of defensive programming with the instincts and mindset of a forward. He would often ask Alexis to explain his thought process during certain attacking plays, trying to understand the underlying logic behind his seemingly intuitive movements.
As the days turned into weeks, their extra training sessions stretched longer and longer. The setting sun would paint the sky in hues of orange and purple, and the groundskeepers would begin to turn off the floodlights that illuminated the pitches. Often, they would find themselves the last two players on the field, the darkness creeping in around them, the rhythmic thud of the ball their only companion.
"Alright, Flaco," Alexis would finally say, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement as the last of the lights flickered and died, plunging their small patch of the field into near darkness. "I think that's our cue. Unless you've suddenly developed night vision."
Luca would laugh, a genuine, unburdened sound. He was often frustrated by his slow progress, by the vast chasm that still separated his skills from those of Alexis. But these extra sessions, these moments of shared effort under the fading light, were a source of immense encouragement. He was learning, slowly but surely, to see the game through the eyes of a forward. He was beginning to shed the cautious skin of a defender and tentatively embrace the risk and the potential of attack. And he wasn't doing it alone.
Resigned but with a shared sense of accomplishment, they would gather their belongings and walk off the darkened pitch together, the silence punctuated by their easy banter, two friends chasing the same dream, one leading the way, the other determined to follow.
[End for chapter 5]