They ran the drill again. And again, Semenyo made the same mistake. He just didn't see it. He didn't understand the concept of pressing as a unit, of cutting off passing lanes, of forcing the opposition into mistakes.
He was a chaos player, an individual who thrived on instinct, and our structured system was completely alien to him. I saw the frustration building in his face, the way his shoulders slumped, the way he started to shut down.
He was used to being the best player on his team, the one who could win a game on his own. Here, he was just another cog in the machine, and he didn't know how to function.
Nya tried to help, jogging over to him between repetitions. "Mate, just stay wide. Don't come inside. Your job is to stop that pass." But Semenyo just nodded, looking confused, and then made the same mistake again.
