16 Wimbledon Versus Sheffield (3)

The moment Potts saw the ball going straight towards him, he positioned himself to receive it to the best of his abilities. He even jostled and used his hands and feet to stay there.

Prosser also surged forward, sensing the possibility of a pass being sent to him on the volley.

Potts collected the ball with composure that showed off his years, while his back shrugged off any attempts of a dispossession.

Gone were the days that Potts can overpower his opposition with quick twitch movements and ridiculous amounts of physicality and endurance. But his days as an aggressive defensive midfielder aged like fine wine nonetheless.

He may not be the Premier League caliber player he once was, but in the twilight years of his career, the culmination of what he was as a player routinely showed.

He was as sturdy as a rock with his balance allowing him to keep the ball with him. The late age guile kept his marker off him at opportune moments.

The tunnel visioned focus of club icon Potts led him to refine his game to make use of better technique as his preternatural physical advantages started diminishing bit by bit.

'I'm not done yet!' Off-balanced after a slight push from behind, Potts swung his foot onto the ball as he fell.

His iron determination to send the ball on its way went through, as his hopeful pass connected to the loanee Prosser, who found himself with some space.

'Thanks old man, I'm gonna take it from here.' An uncharacteristic glint in Prosser's eyes shone.

For a moment, the laid back youngster's aura exuded a rare hint of fierce competitiveness as he dribbled his way forward with poise above his years. Which is one of the biggest reasons a club like Stamford Bridge FC signed him.

Closing in on the 18 yard box, Alain has only one thing in mind: scoring a debut goal.

Inside the box, Alain unleashed a powerful strike, not caring about the keeper in front of him.

The sound of the ball hitting the net inside the goal, nor the sound of ball hitting the post was not heard.

Instead, what was heard was the loud whistle of the referee pointing to the penalty spot, and the ball going out of play after being saved by the keeper.

Close by, Prosser was shaken up on the ground clutching his left foot in agony.

As a consequence, the referee called in the guilty central defender and flashed him a yellow card for the dangerous tackle.

The Sheffield physios then entered the field and checked on the condition of their prized loanee youngster.

"Not like this…" Blaise had his hands at his head after seeing the crunching tackle being replayed in multiple angles. "Please don't be injured, buddy…"

After a few minutes, the physios stretchered the young man off for the play to continue.

The regular 90 minutes was up after he was taken off the field, so the linesmen flashed a 5 minute extra stoppage time to compensate for the huge amount of time lost.

***

Blaise came out of his father's room with a blanket.

It was now midnight, and a light drizzle could be heard from the roofs. His father was soundly sleeping on the sofa, not knowing what transpired at the end of the match.

Blaise was done cleaning up the mess of a living room they made earlier, and he even washed the plates and put away all the cans of beer.

As he covered his father with the blanket, he kept on replaying the final scenes of the match in his head.

He's been on many such moments before, where he missed a lot, and made a lot. It was these kinds of moments that defined his past life's career.

So, he knew how much pressure was put on the penalty taker. It's either he'll crumble, or he'll thrive.

What better person to do the job than the man who shouldered the team for decades, amid all its ups and downs— Damian Potts.

He remembered the longtime club talisman's icy expression, his composure amid all the whistling, and his classy Panenka finish that sent shivers even to the reincarnated Blaise's spine.

Damian didn't even celebrate the goal, and just ran up straight to the goal, got the ball, and made a beeline to the center circle.

He was truly envious at the devotion the fans had for old man Potts.

But he knows that the man deserved all the plaudits, and unlike him on his past life, he didn't.

The game ended with a final push from Sheffield, with Potts once again at the end of it, sadly hammering a shot straight into the crossbar and out into the stands.

The Sheffield faithful can't help but sigh in what was a golden chance to take an unlikely victory.

Nevertheless, the whistle sounded with an explosion of clapping and cheering from the sellout crowd.

And thus, matchday 1 ended with a draw for both sides.

***

'I wonder what tomorrow will bring?' Blaise was staring at the ceiling of his room. 'I hope old man Potts will accept me as a disciple.'

Blaise was impressed at what he saw with Damian Potts. His transformation from the physical powerhouse of his youth to a skill heavy footballer of his latter years could be seen easily at the way he played. He didn't run fast, nor did he have the strength to muscle through contact anymore, but he had the finesse, the old man grit, and the technique required to plow through. He's 38, and was only playing at League One level, and yet… he's thinking that the old man was stronger than him at 32…

I have to learn how he adapted his game!

Blaise strengthened his resolve, knowing that getting the help of Mister Potts could help him start taking on his game's own shortcomings, while improving his strengths.

"I'm gonna be a starter in the near future, watch out Sheffield senpais! I'm coming for you!" He thumped his chest and punched the air with a quick boxing combo.

Tomorrow is gonna be one hell of a day, I know it.