8 Ass Whooping

"Young gentlemen, assemble!" The crisp voice of the youth team manager sent the players scrambling to line up.

The youngsters of Sheffield Blades lined up in two rows of 11 with shocking speed. The manager doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Are you kids that eager to get spanked?

"Ahem… For you youngsters, the start of every preseason gives rise to so many new opportunities. This is one such opportunity. Today, you'll get the chance to be the first to fight our new look, still out of shape, senior team." He's looking at these youngsters like they're about to be sent to the chopping block. "If you ever want the first team manager to remember your name, or get a glimpse of your abilities, this is your first possible chance."

"Don't waste it."

With their hearts trembling, the excitement felt by these naïve youth could be seen on their faces. One of them though, was already stretching his muscles.

'Let's see what I can do with this current strength of mine.'

When the under 18s team arrived on the senior team training pitch, what they saw was only a couple of players practicing. This made the youngsters surprised, some of them already looking around on where the other players might be.

"Alan! Where are the other seniors?" The energetic voice of Terry, who's already running up to the more muscular of the two people training, caught the attention of Blaise.

"Oh… them? Some are in the weight room, the others are watching tape, the others… well… they're doing their own things. You guys here for the training match?" Alan continued his knee high sprints as he talked. Blaise caught the apparent disinterest in Alan's voice.

"Yeah. We're here to give you guys a run for your money!" Alan finally showed a hint of interest in what his junior Quinn was saying.

"You sure? Then I hope you don't lose that confidence once the match is over."

One by one, the members of the first team setup came to the pitch. They wore varied expressions on their faces, owing mostly to the fact that this is just a training match against their under 18 team.

Blaise was not impressed… not even in the least bit. 'Who are these guys? I can't remember any of them!'

He was a League One player for just a single year. Which means, he fought the Blades twice. He doesn't recognize any of these faces.

Realizing that it might owe to his shoddy memories of his lower league playing days and maybe his faulty recall of faces and names, Blaise just shrugged it off.

'I can't remember any of them… so I better be more careful.'

The first team manager was wearing a red sweater, matching the club's red crest. He has been the manager of the side for the last half-decade, overseeing the progression of the club from lower half in his first year, to the play-off spots just last year.

He has the full support of the club, its fans, and the players. That's a pretty enviable position for other managers.

He has just turned 40 this year, and with all his past achievements, English football can only imagine how far this young manager can go.

"Hi, everyone from the youth squad. Some of you may know me, but for the others who don't, my name is Steve Bronson. I am the first team manager." He scanned the rowdy group of teenagers before him, until his gaze stopped on Atkinson's brown eyes. "As you know, it's tradition for the club to do an intra squad match at the start of every preseason. So, I expect nothing less from you promising young lads, but to uphold the qualities of the Blades."

He paused for a moment before continuing, "Attack. Attack. Attack. Don't let us down."

"Yes, sir!"

***

Less than an hour later...

A corner kick was sent straight into the penalty area filled with jumping bodies. The one who jumped highest was Alan Seymour, whose head sent the ball to the back of the net with the ferocity of an angered lion.

If the hearts of the junior team weren't shattered by the battering they've already received, it was now.

9-0.

That was the scoreline after that Seymour header.

On the bench, Blaise Atkinson was already chewing his nails in annoyance. I thought we'd only be losing 3-0 by halftime! This game can't be salvaged now! What are those punks doing!

His new pal, Terry Quinn, was also downcast. He cannot accept both the fact that he didn't start the game, and that the starters are getting blown out of this world by the first team backups.

His face was as pale as a sheet after the dark realization that this might be just a prelude to an even bigger demolition he's gonna suffer at the hands of the first team members in the second half.

Their manager meanwhile, was a stark contrast to his demoralized crew.

"Cheer up, boys! It's just the first half!" He's already holding back his laughter like a good coach should. His stifled laughter though, rendered his advice worthless.

Every youth squad member's eyes twitched. You shouldn't laugh at us you senile fart! What advice was that!

"Haha… but seriously though? What are you doing getting demoralized? Look at the newbie!" He pointed to the end of the bench, where Blaise was now sitting with resolute eyes and a burning aura.

All eyes locked on to him. He was so close to puking earlier, but the challenge of a 9-0 deficit amped his excitement so much that he's looking forward to erasing it with his own feet and neon cleats.

"Look at him. He hasn't given up, no?" The laughing demeanor of the coach has now been replaced by seriousness. "Why are you guys giving up? Hasn't it been just an hour ago when you're all giddy at the prospect of facing your seniors? Where's that life now?"

The half time whistle blew, and as the starters came back to their bench, they saw the aggressive looking faces of their substitutes.

They felt sorry at putting their teammates in this big a hole, and yet… Why do they look like they're crouching tigers and hidden dragons ready to wipe the opponents out to the last man?

"Coach, we're sorry… it's just the back-up team and yet… we already got demolished…" The youth team vice captain had his head hung low.

"Look at them. Do they look like they're just gonna accept their defeat?"

"That…" These guys just couldn't believe how strong their other teammates were. If that were them, who knows how they'd look?

Unbeknownst to them, their ferocious attitude was all thanks to one man.

'Sigh… these prideful youngsters…' That one man was already plenty surprised that his attitude alone is enough to right the sinking ship that is their morale. 'It will serve them good if they learn how to be unfazed in situations like these.'

Blaise is ready for the second half.