"Okay," his dad said, his voice a little shaky.
"You have your new boots?"
"Yes, dad. The black ones."
"And your shin pads? And your phone?"
"Yes, dad."
"And... okay. Good. Good." His dad just looked at him. "Everton, Alex. This is a big one. Goodison Park. It is... it is a tough place. They are... they are loud."
"I know," Alex said, his heart doing a small flip. His analyst brain had watched three Everton games. They were not just tough. They were physical. They were fast. They were everything he was not.
The giant, black first team bus pulled up. The door hissed open.
"That is me," Alex said.
"Okay." His dad pulled him into a hard, quick hug. "Be smart, Alex. Be stable. And... do not let them kick you too hard."
"I will try," Alex laughed.
He walked onto the bus.
It was quiet. Not the loud, shouting U18 bus. Not the nervous, silent U21 bus. This was... professional.
