"Hey. Kid."

Alex looked up.

It was James. The star striker from Chelsea. The one who had laughed at him in the locker room.

He was standing over Alex. He was huge.

"You are in my seat," James said. He was not smiling.

"Oh," Alex said. His face went hot. "Sorry. I did not know."

"Now you do," James said. He just... stood there. Waiting.

Alex picked up his plate. He felt his hands shaking. He felt like the new kid in school. The one everyone was going to bully.

"Hey, James! Leave him alone!"

Alex turned. It was Tom. The big defender from Liverpool. The one who had also stared at him.

Tom walked over. He was even bigger than James.

"He is just a kid," Tom said. "Stop being an idiot. Go sit somewhere else."

James looked at Tom. He was not going to fight Tom.

"Whatever," James sneered. He looked back at Alex. "Do not get comfortable, 'Professor'. This is not your little Arsenal academy. This is the real world."

James walked away.

Alex just stood there, holding his plate.

Tom just grunted at him. "You can sit. Just... do not talk. You are too small to talk."

Tom sat down at the table.

Alex sat back down. He was in shock. He had... an ally? A very large, very grumpy ally?

They ate in complete silence.

On the training pitch, the grass was so perfect it looked fake.

Coach Edwards, the scientist, gathered them.

"Right," he said, his voice crisp. "Germany. In four days. They are big. They are strong. They are smart. We have to be better. Today... we find our rhythm. Rondo. Ten versus two. Fast. Very fast. No mistakes. Go."

Alexs heart was pounding. This was it.

He was in the circle. It was fast. The ball was a blur. Zip. Zip. Zip.

These players were not just U21s. They were all starters for their Premier League teams.

The ball came to him. He had a millisecond.

He saw James, the Chelsea striker, charging at him. He was not waiting. He was coming to hurt him.

Alex did not try to be a hero. He didd not try to be smart.

He just... passed it. One touch. To Tom. The big defender.

It was safe. It was boring. It was... stable.

James ran past, annoyed.

The ball came back to Alex. He didd not panic.

One touch. To the midfielder.

Zip. Zip. Zip.

He was keeping up. He was not a liability. He was just... there.

Then, it happened.

The midfielder, a star from Manchester United, hit a bad pass. It was too hard. It bounced off Alexs shin.

He was in the middle.

The whole circle groaned.

"Come on, kid!" James yelled. "Keep up!"

Alex was in the middle, with another player.

And it was awful.

He was a duck. He was a ghost. He was... just... slow.

He ran. He chased. He could not get near the ball. The other players were too good. They were not even trying. They were just playing around him.

He was in the middle for three straight minutes. His lungs were on fire. He felt humiliated.

He looked at Coach Edwards. The coach was just... watching. Writing notes on his clipboard.

Alex was failing.

He stopped running. He just... stood. He was panting. He was defeated.

Okay. Analyst. Stop being a duck. Stop being a ghost.

Analyze the data.

He watched. He did not chase.

He saw the pattern. James, the striker, was arrogant. He always tried to pass the ball through the middle. He wanted to look good.

Tom, the defender, was simple. He always passed to the player on his left.

Alex waited.

The ball came to James. Alexs brain screamed. He is going to do it.

Alex did not run. He just... stepped.

He stepped right into the passing lane.

The ball hit his foot.

He had done it. He had read them.

He was out. He was back in the circle.

The other players looked... surprised.

James just scowled.

The drill restarted.

The ball came to Alex.

James was in the middle now. He was angry. He ran straight at Alex.

"Come on, Professor!" he yelled. "Show me the 'Bruno turn'!"

He was coming to smash him.

Alex was stable. He was a rock.

He did not do the Bruno turn. He did not do a trick.

He just... let the ball run. He opened his legs. A simple, easy, boring nutmeg.

James flew past, his legs tangled. He fell over.

The entire circle exploded.

"WOAH!"

"HE NUTMEGGED HIM!"

"SIT DOWN, JAMES!"

Tom, the big Liverpool defender, just... laughed. A huge, loud, booming laugh.

Alex just got the ball back. He passed it. One touch.

James got up. His face was bright red. He was furious.

"You are dead, kid," he hissed.

Alex just smiled. He was not scared.

Coach Edwards blew his whistle. "Okay. Enough. Small game. Eight versus eight. Bibs versus no bibs."

He split the teams.

He put Alex... on the same team as James.

And he put Tom... on the other team.

Alex felt his stomach drop. His one giant ally was now his enemy.

"Okay, Professor," James sneered, as they put on their bibs. "You are smart. You are the brain. You just... give me the ball. I will score. Do not get in my way."

Alex just nodded.

The game started.

It was fast. Tom, the giant defender, was marking James. It was a war.

Alex was in the middle. He was the pivot.

He got the ball. He looked up.

He saw it. His analyst brain was on fire.

He saw a pass. A perfect, 'Professor' pass.

James was not open. He was fighting with Tom.

But the winger... the winger was making a run. A smart run.

Alex did not hesitate. He hit it.

A forty yard, curling, perfect pass.

The winger ran onto it. He scored.

One zero.

Alex just clapped.

James ran over to him. He was not happy. "Why did you not pass to me?"

"You were not open," Alex said.

"I am always open!" James yelled.

"You were fighting a wall," Alex said. "The pass was to the winger. We scored. That is the job."

James just stared at him. He did not know what to say.

The game restarted.

Alex got the in ball again.

He saw James. James was making a run.

It was... a bad run. The U18 Mark run. Straight into a defender.

Alex did not pass it.

He waited. He was patient. He was stable.

He passed it. A simple, five yard pass.

He got it back.

He saw James again. James was... sulking. He was standing still.

Alex sighed. He looked up.

He saw the other run. The defender, Tom, was out of position.

Alex looked at James. "James! Run! Now! Fake fake!"

James was confused. "What?"

"JUST RUN! FAKE THE RUN!"

James was angry. But he did it. He faked right. He cut left.

The defender was fooled.

Alex hit the pass.

It was perfect.

James was on the ball. He was one on one.

He scored.

Two zero.

James just... stood there. He looked at Alex.

He was stunned. He did not celebrate.

Coach Edwards blew his whistle.

"Good," he said. "Very good. You..." he pointed at Alex, "you are the brain. And you..." he pointed at James, "you are... not as stupid as you look. You listened."

James did not get angry. He just... nodded.

"FAnish, Finch," the coach said. "You are done for today. Go. Ice bath. Your ankle."

Alex nodded. He was tired. But he was happy.

He was walking off the pitch.

"Hey. Kid."

Alex turned. It was James.

"That pass," James said. "It was... it was good."

"Your run was good," Alex said.

"Yeah, well," James said. He looked embarrassed. "Tomorrow... you... you can sit at my table if you want."

Alex just smiled. "Thanks, James."

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