Wednesday morning arrived with the same 5:30 am alarm, but this time I woke before it went off, my mind already racing through the day ahead.

Three days until Brighton. Three days to prepare for our first proper preseason match, to integrate two new players into a system that was still fragile, to prove that everything we'd been building wasn't just theory.

I pulled on my running gear and headed out into the pre-dawn darkness, the cold air biting at my face as I started the familiar 6k route. My legs felt heavy, the accumulated fatigue of the past weeks settling into my muscles, but I pushed through it. The physical discomfort was easier to deal with than the mental weight I was carrying.

The system flashed in my vision as I finished, my time 33:12, slower than yesterday. [SYSTEM] Fitness: 52/100. Mental Fatigue: High. Recommendation: Rest day advised.

I ignored it. I didn't have time for rest days. Not with Brighton on Saturday. Not with Eze and Semenyo still struggling to find their feet. I walked the last hundred meters back to my flat, hands on my hips, breathing hard, watching the city slowly wake up around me.

London at dawn was a strange place, caught between the night people heading home and the day people just starting out. I was somewhere in between, neither one nor the other, just trying to keep my head above water.

Back in my flat, I made coffee and stood on the balcony, reviewing my notes from yesterday's session. Eze had been bodied off the ball three times in the possession drill. Semenyo had made the same positioning mistake seven times in a row.

Connor was still skeptical, still testing Eze every chance he got. Squad Cohesion had dropped from ninety-one percent to eighty-two percent, and was still there. Three days weren't enough time to fix all of that. But it was the time I had, so it would have to be enough.

By the time I arrived at Copers Cope at 7:30 am, Sarah was already in the analysis room, a fresh cup of coffee steaming on her desk.

"Morning," she said, not looking up from her laptop. "I've been watching Brighton's footage from last season. They play a 4-3-3, high press, very aggressive. They're going to test us."

"Good," I said, pulling up a chair. "That's what we need. How do they press?"

She clicked through to a tactical breakdown she'd prepared. "Striker triggers the press when the center-back receives the ball. Wingers push up on the full-backs. The midfield three collapses the space. It's coordinated, well-drilled. If we're sloppy in possession, they'll punish us."

"So we need to be sharp," I said. "Quick passing, movement off the ball. Can Eze handle that?"

Sarah looked at me. "If he doesn't get pushed off it, yes. But that's a big if."

"Rebecca's working with him," I said. "Strength program starts today."

"And Semenyo?" she asked.

"One-on-one session with me this afternoon," I said. "Positioning basics. Again."

She nodded, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "Danny, you're taking on a lot. Make sure you're not burning yourself out."

"I'm fine," I said, even though I wasn't sure that was true.

The players arrived at 9 am, and I gathered them for a team meeting before training. I pulled up the tactical board, showing them Brighton's 4-3-3 formation.

"Saturday, we're playing Brighton U18s. They're good. Well-organized, aggressive press, technically sound. This is a proper test." I looked around the room, making eye contact with each player.

"We had a good result against Millwall last week, but this is our first proper preseason match. This is different. This is against a team that's going to press us hard, that's going to test our system. I need everyone switched on. I need everyone working together."

Reece nodded, his expression calm and focused. Nya was leaning forward, already thinking about the tactical challenge. Connor was watching Eze, his arms crossed. Eze was staring at the board, his jaw set. Semenyo looked lost, like he was trying to process information that was coming too fast.

I made a mental note to go over this with him again later. "Their striker triggers the press when our center-backs receive the ball," I continued, drawing on the tactical board.

"Their wingers push up on our full-backs. Their midfield three collapses the space. If we're slow in possession, if we take too many touches, they'll swarm us. So we need to be sharp. One-touch, two-touch. Quick decisions. Movement off the ball."

I paused, looking at Eze. "Eze, you'll be playing between the lines. Your job is to receive in the pockets, turn, and create. But you need to be aware of the physical challenge. They're going to press you hard. You need to be strong on the ball."

Eze nodded, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. He was thinking about yesterday, about getting pushed off the ball by Connor. "Antoine," I said, turning to Semenyo. "You'll likely come off the bench. When you do, I need you to stay wide. Cut off the passing lanes. Don't drift inside. Can you do that?"

"Yes, boss," he said, his voice quiet but determined. "Today's session is about sharpness," I continued. "Quick passing, movement, pressing triggers. We're going to run the same drills we've been doing, but I want the intensity higher. I want you to think faster, moving faster. Understood?"

"Yes, boss," came the chorus of replies.

The training session started with Rebecca's warm-up, and I watched Eze carefully. His movements were still fluid, still graceful, but there was a tension in his body language that hadn't been there before.

He was thinking about the physicality, about getting pushed off the ball, and it was affecting his confidence. After the warm-up, Rebecca pulled him aside. "Right, Eze. You and me, gym, thirty minutes. We're starting your strength program."

"Now?" he asked, glancing at the training pitch where the other players were setting up for the next drill.

"Now," Rebecca said firmly. "This is part of your training. It's as important as anything you do out there."

***

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