5 Absolute Destruction
The goalkeeper found himself rooted to his spot.
All he saw was the joyous goal celebration of Team F's players, the dejected sighs of his Team E, and the rapturous ovation of the scouts on the stands.
The keeper can't be faulted for that though. The rocket of a free kick bent around the wall and smashed straight to the top left corner of the goal. Premier League keepers would have trouble saving balls of that velocity and curve, so how could an exit trialist like him have a chance?
That free kick will never be stopped.
"Whooo! Man that's awesome!"
"What was that rocket?"
"Shit… I'm getting goosebumps bro!"
His teammates piled on top of Blaise in celebration. That was a wonder goal, and they can't help but think about how this guy slipped through the cracks. The rest of the team knew that even if it's just a single match, this guy is just a cut above them.
"Man… that kid sure is a dead ball specialist alright…" Paul struggled to keep his emotions to himself after seeing a beautiful strike like that. Well, that went for every other scout here. All of them are either writing something on their notebooks, typing something on their phones or laptops, or calling someone on their phones. They seemed to have found their diamond in the rough.
As the match drew closer to the finish, Team E started playing more to save their own skin than as a team. Their play, that was already erratic minutes ago, became even more disjointed as a result.
This was taken advantage of by a surging Team F, who put on a clinic in the last 10 minutes.
Cameron finally got to the scoresheet on the 83rd minute. He burst through the right back for the nth time, and got to the end of another Blaise pass.
He cut inside, showing some good dribbling skills leaving the covering center back in his wake. He then proceeded to fake out the diving keeper, by showing right then dashing left before tucking it in clean to the back of the net.
4-0!
Team F went wild. That was just a sublime way to beat the goalkeeper.
The stands too, went wild. They know a good player when they see one.
They didn't slow down after the restart, peppering the poor Team E goalie with a few more shots that either hit the crossbar or stung his palms. Team E stayed back, desperate to weather the storm that was Team F.
They did so… for only four minutes.
As a shot was blocked by a Team E defender, the ball landed near the corner flag. A cross was then put in fast by Team F's right back after recovering the ball.
A sea of heads fought for supremacy up top inside the box, along with the goalkeeper's outstretched hands.
But right before the goalkeeper's hands had taken the ball, a shaved head made contact with it first.
It was Team F's central defender, going by the surname Harris. As his head met the ball, the strong force he inserted to it sent it straight to the back of the net.
That goal was the last hurrah, as the match ended 5-0.
An overwhelming demolition of Team E.
***
Night.
"Dad, I'm home!" Blaise slumped into the sofa bed in exhaustion. He didn't remember this day to be this exhausting in his first life.
"Oh. You showed them how good you are?" Frying sounds could be heard from the kitchen.
The aroma of fried pork wafted over the exhausted Blaise, urging him to go straight to the dining room.
"Guess what I achieved Dad." He ended up unable to resist the charms of fried pork and scooted over.
"Uh… you slipped and ate some dirt in warm-ups, jeopardizing your trials before it even began?"
"Thanks, Dad." He bit into the piping hot pork chop he missed. "Huuuu… that's the stuff…"
"You didn't slip? You actually did something good?" The face his Dad was making made the 32 year old inside Blaise want to whack his dad. "Tell me about it."
The night continued as Blaise stunned his father with his story about his performance on the exit trials, while mowing down the pork chops on the table. His tales sounded outlandish to his father's ears, but he knows that with his son's jubilant mood, he trusts that he indeed succeeded, so he let his young son exaggerate his story.
'I knew you can do it… go reach the top, my son!'
***
The next morning, Blaise woke up to the ringing of their telephone.
"Ah… shit… it's a Monday… Dad's off to work. He should still be working for the university since I'm 17 again."
Blaise rushed to their living room in the hope that what's calling is a club that was impressed by his performance from yesterday. He hoped that it's at least a League Two club at the minimum, he doesn't want to waste time in the lower divisions of non league football if he can.
He didn't reincarnate to relive his days playing amateur football.
'Please let it be a Football League club!'
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is John Murphy, I am a scout from League Two side York. Is this Blaise Atkinson?"
'Shit! It's a League Two side!'
League Two is the 4th tier of English football, and the lowest tier of fully professional English football. The professional part is what Atkinson wanted. In his first life, he spent a year in the 6th tier, a semi-professional league, with part-time contracts, part-time training, all while doing his part-time job.
He can't even call himself a true football player by profession, as he juggled jobs in between his pursuit of getting signed by higher division clubs. Well, it paid off in the end anyway when Leeds came for his signature a year later, but he doesn't want to undergo the toil like that even after reincarnation.
He wants to regain the peak of his skill at the higher divisions quickly, before raising it to another level in the Premier League.
This time he'll reach the pinnacle!
Blaise was offered a professional contract by York, and as the day went on, the list… well… it grew to a queue of 16 teams from either League Two or League One.
Of course, Blaise was not surprised. He put on a masterclass performance to get a pick of clubs that wanted him. Sure, he doesn't have any idea how they plan to use him or improve him, but he'll use his experience to shine anywhere no matter what.
As the day wound down, Blaise received the call he's really been waiting for.
"Hello?"
"Hi, I'm Paul McArthur. I'm calling as a scout for Sheffield Blades FC, can I talk to Blaise Atkinson, please?"
