Hot Cake Shooting!

Today, the climate was scorching hot; even so was the temper of their head coach, Hans. The players gradually arranged themselves into two groups, A and B.

"All right, Boys!! You have already arrived very late; don't make me lose my temper in this practice Shootingshootout too. Warm up and prepare yourself!"

Hans, who was part of Manchester United's historic treble-winning squad, naturally transitioned to United's youth system after retiring, progressing from coaching the U15 team to serving as an assistant coach for the U19 youth team.

And finally becoming head coach for the U19 team.

Today, his focus was on evaluating some players, including six particular players, whose trial youth contracts were about to expire.

'Things are going as expected. But I will only get to shootout against the net for only 2 times...and I missed both of the shots in my previous life.'

As both Carl and Marcus warmed up side by side, coach Hans approached them, "I have high expectations from both of you; play well."

The next second he instructed them, a voice sounded out from the herd of players.

"Haa, yo Marc! Be ready to pack your stuff; Coach is only expecting great things from Carl, not you, haha!"

"Haha!"

"Yeah, as if he will play well."

Sounds of laughter and ridicule reached out in the pitch; however, Marcus wasn't bothered by these things; his mind was only racing with one thought: I have to make an impact in this match.

'I hope, he does well in this evaluation exercises.'

In Hans eyes, Marcus was actually the most hardworking player in the entire United youth academy.

He held himself to a strict standard, both in training and in life.

Marcus on the other hand ignored the "geniuses" entirely. Arguing with people like that was beneath him and unnecessary.

Let them stay trapped in their little world, reveling in their worthless sense of superiority.

He had to keep moving forward. Soon enough, they wouldn't even be on the same level.

Laughing now was easy. What mattered was being able to laugh in the long run.

Warm-up exercises quickly ended, and shooting practice began.

"Bang! Bang! Bang…!"

The first drill was practicing headers from high crosses. Players on the wings sent crosses into the box, where those in the center fought to head the ball toward goal.

"Great pass! It's mine!"

"No, I've got this!"

"Don't worry, keep going!"

Encouragement and shouts of frustration filled the field as everyone enthusiastically engaged in the drill.

Mael's performance in this drill was mediocre; heading had never been his strength.

If he needed it later, he could work on improving his heading skills. But for now, his focus remained on power and long-range shots.

After the header drill came low ball finishing, dynamic shooting in the box, and high-speed one-on-one training.

Mael's performances in these were similarly average—not outstanding.

"Next, long-range shooting!"

When Hans announced the next drill, Mael finally lifted his head, his eyes brimming with confidence.

The team captain, Gilbert, was the first to step up to the arc of the Shootingarea, waiting for Hans to roll a ball his way. After receiving it, Gilbert controlled the ball and fired a shot.

"Bang!"

The ball rather than canon firing from a ship was more like a bow released by an expert archer; it veered off course as if it was a miss, then curved skillfully before latching on the back of the net.

The goalkeeper wasn't even able to attempt to stop the ball.

"Swish!" The sound of the net rippling was crisp. Gilbert leaped into the air, celebrating with a fist pump like a rising dragon.

"Beautiful!"

Hans gave an approving nod, and several players clapped with smiles on their faces.

Overall, the training atmosphere was positive, disrupted only occasionally by a few troublemakers.

"Bang! Bang! Bang…!"

One after another, players stepped up to take their shots.

The success rate was about fifty-fifty.

Hans's reminders echoed through the field:

"Your plant foot is too far back. Is that how you shoot in games?"

Although the stakes were rising, Hans got really angry when Hibert, one of the few local trial players missed his slow pass, "What are you doing?? Even my grandmother could hit ball from a pass like that!"

Another one attempted, however he did a crossbar challenge to disappoint Hans, " Do Better, stay confident! Keep your ankle locked—don't slack off! You're 17 years old; I shouldn't have to remind you about these details every day!"

As he spoke, Hans rolled another ball toward the arc of the Shootingarea.

Suddenly, a figure wearing jersey number 13 dashed forward. After taking a quick glance at the goal, he planted his support foot firmly and swung his right leg powerfully.

BOOOM!!!

The ball left his foot with a deafening sound, kicking up grass as it tore through the air like a missile.

Rowl, the U-19 goalkeeper who had just lowered his stance, froze in shock, only managing to glance back as the ball slammed into the underside of the crossbar, rattling the frame violently before bouncing into the net. The field fell silent. Everyone seemed stunned as if shaken to their core by that one shot.

It wasn't that no one had used a full-power shot before, or even scored with such a technique.

It was the sheer speed of the ball—it was absurdly fast, possibly over 100 mph.

And the angle? There was no angle; it was a straight line. When the speed of the ball is that high, why bother with something like confusing the goalkeeper?

Hopkins was the first to react, spinning around to stare at Mael. "That was…?"

Someone finished his sentence in disbelief: "Insane!"

"Even if first-team keeper Fabianski were in goal, he wouldn't have stopped that."

Captain Gilbert frowned in confusion before shaking his head decisively. "No, not 'wouldn't.' He couldn't have."

Nearby, Ian and his cronies exchanged stunned looks. But soon, they came up with excuses. "That had to be lucky, right?"

"Definitely a fluke. Even I've hit perfect shots before, and I'm a defender."

"He doesn't have that level of skill. If he did, he'd have renewed his contract by now."

Despite this Carl was the first person, he quickly ran up beside Marcus and the both clasped hands, "Bang!"

"Marc, that was something else!"

"Hehe, I told you there will be a pleasant surprise for you."

However, even Hans wasn't convinced. He wanted to know if Marcus actually pulled it off or it was one kick wonder. 

"Another shot!" Hans didn't give them time to celebrate, quickly rolling another ball toward Mael.

He needed to see it again.

Mael watched the ball roll in, lowered his stance, and used the outside of his foot to tap it slightly to the right. His body followed smoothly as his left foot planted beside the ball.

BOOOMM!!

Just like countless nights of practice, his right leg snapped forward, striking the ball with violent precision and sending it rocketing toward the goal.