Chapter 8: On The Bench
"How was training today?" Stella asked from inside the kitchen as soon as she heard Valen walk through the door. She was in the middle of preparing dinner.
"It was great mom. I made it into the matchday squad!" Valen said excitedly.
Stella put down whatever was on her hands and walked out of the kitchen with a wide smile on her face. "That's great honey!" She said while walking forward and wrapping her hand around her son. "This is the first time in what? Two years?"
Valen nodded slightly. "I finally have a chance to impress the coach. Hopefully, I'll be starting a match before the end of the month."
"That's great," Stella said before pulling away from him and scrunching her nose. "By the way, you may want to take a shower, you smell like shit."
"Alright," Valen laughed before walking upstairs to his room.
As soon as he entered his room, he took off his clothes and placed them in the laundry bag. Then he stepped inside the shower. While he was inside the shower, he couldn't stop thinking about the match tomorrow. His thoughts were everywhere. One moment he was excited, the next he was anxious. Sometimes his mind would wander into fear and then bounce back to excitement again. He kept imagining different scenarios. Scoring a goal, making a good pass, or getting subbed on and turning the game around. The range of emotions he went through inside that bathroom was enough to wear anyone out.
When he finally finished and got out, he dried himself, got dressed, and went downstairs. Dinner was already set on the table. It was warm rice and chicken stew, with a side of steamed vegetables. He took his seat, said a short prayer, and then started eating. The food was good. His mom always knew how to make a meal feel like home.
After he was done eating, he cleaned his plate, washed the dishes, and went back to his room. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. He tried closing his eyes, adjusting his pillow, even dimming the light, but none of it worked. His mind was still racing.
Eventually, he reached for his phone and unlocked it. If he wasn't playing or training, Valen was usually on Twitter. In fact, he had become a bit of a troll. He knew how to stir up reactions, how to bait fans from rival clubs, and how to say the right thing at the right time to get attention. Because of that, he had gained over ten thousand followers. People liked his takes, even if they sometimes got him into trouble.
But in the past week, he had abandoned his account. He had focused solely on football. Getting into the matchday squad had been his only goal, and now that he had achieved that, he wanted to take a moment to breathe.
He opened Twitter and scrolled casually, not expecting anything special. Then he saw it. A post from RisingBallers. It was about him. They wrote about how he was included in a matchday squad for the first time in two years after suffering multiple ACL injuries. The post had pictures of him from training. His heart warmed as he read the caption. It wasn't long, but it meant a lot.
He scrolled into the comments.
UTD\_Trey\_: Go smash it king
Cagiagoo\_\_: Good luck brother.
There were more. People from different fanbases and even old teammates had dropped a few words of encouragement. It made Valen feel seen. After two years of watching from the sidelines, he finally had a reason to smile. He kept scrolling, reading each comment with more eagerness. They gave him strength.
A few minutes later, he put his phone away and finally allowed his body to rest. Sleep came slowly at first, but eventually, he slipped into it.
The next day, Valen woke up a little bit late. Around nine in the morning. It made sense, since he slept late. As soon as he checked the time on his phone, he sat up immediately and rushed into the toilet. It was twenty minutes past nine, and he was supposed to be at the training ground by ten. There was no room for mistakes today. He needed to be on time. The coach was just beginning to trust him again. One mistake, and it could all go down the drain.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," he muttered as he brushed his teeth carefully. He rinsed, spat, and immediately jumped into the shower. His entire routine was done in record time. He dried himself while still dripping water on the floor, then reached for his clothes. He threw on a casual outfit and began packing.
He took a clean training kit, his cleats, shin guards, a towel, and tossed everything into his duffel bag. Less than twenty minutes after he woke up, he was rushing down the stairs. The house was quiet. His mom had already left for work. Just like he expected, she hadn't left any breakfast. There was no time to prepare anything. He grabbed two apples from the kitchen counter and began eating them while walking out the door.
The drive to West Hills was smooth. He was lucky there wasn't traffic. Ten minutes after leaving home, he arrived at the facility. He slowed down in front of the gate and showed his ID to the security guards. They smiled and nodded. One of them even patted him on the back. It looked like they knew what today meant for him.
Once inside, Valen headed straight for the locker room. As he opened the door, he saw the other players already in their training kits. He let out a sigh of relief. He made it just in time. If he had arrived a few minutes later, it could have gone very wrong. He quickly found his locker, opened it, and changed into his training kit. His cleats felt a little tight at first, but he adjusted them and stepped out onto the pitch.
It was a home game today. They were playing at Birmingham. Hull City was the opponent. They were expected to arrive within the hour. The home team was already getting prepared. Players jogged, stretched, and passed the ball to each other in short bursts. Coaches walked around with clipboards, talking to assistants and giving pointers.
James, the head coach, gathered everyone around. He held a clipboard in one hand and looked at the players with a firm expression. "Alright everyone, if you are here today it means you are doing something right. Whether your name gets called in the starting lineup or not, do not be discouraged. Even if you are on the bench, you have a chance to go into the game and make a difference. You got that?"
Everyone nodded. The room was quiet.
"Alright so here's the starting lineup. Playing in goal is George Waltermede. In defense we have David Boyce at left back, Richard Yale at center back, Frank McWilliams at center back, and Maxwell Jefferey at right back. Playing at defensive midfield, we have Fred McDonald. As the central midfielder, we have Thomas Wilson, and as the attacking midfielder, Sam Adeyemo. The front three is Nicolas Bosz on the right, Oscar Colak in the middle, and... Able Wilson on the left."
After he finished announcing the lineup, James clapped and told the starters to gather round him. The substitutes went to another side of the pitch and began warming up in a different way. They kicked the ball around, played a few shooting drills, did one-touched passes, and shared jokes with one another.
Valen joined the rest of the substitutes. He didn't feel disappointed. Not one bit. In fact, he had expected it. He knew that one week was not enough to change the manager's mind entirely. He was realistic. What mattered was that he had made the squad. That was a win in itself.
Even if he was just coming on from the bench, it was enough.
He would show the coach what he could do and nail that starting spot.
A/N:
Hello everyone, if you've been enjoying this book so far, why not vote with a Power Stone. It helps improve the book's visibility so others can find it.
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