Scouts Making Reports

Seated in the farthest booth, away from the other scouts, two men watched the chaos on the field unfold.

Dennis Haar, the Youth Team Coach of AZ Alkmaar, a middle-aged man about 37 years old, leaned back in his seat. His eyes observed the pitch, following the medics carrying Benjamin off the pitch.

Next to him, Hans van der Zee, an older man with grayish hair and the Chief Scout of AZ Alkmaar, tapped his finger thoughtfully on the files spread out on the small table between them.

The commotion on the pitch barely seemed to faze them as their focus was more on the potential players being scouted.

Van der Zee flipped through a few documents, finally pulling out one that caught his attention. He furrowed his brow as he scanned the page, glancing between the file and the field where Benjamin had been.

Haar's gaze shifted to the document in van der Zee's hand.

Wordlessly, the scout handed over the file.

Benjamin's name was written clearly at the top. As Haar took the file, he skimmed through the details; age, position, statistics, medical history. It was the usual information, but something in the numbers made him pause.

He raised an eyebrow as he read the evaluation, his mind processing what he'd just witnessed on the pitch during today's trials.

Even with an injury before the scouting trial, Benjamin had shown something beyond just raw talent, his presence on the field, the way he commanded the game before the foul.

It mirrored the qualities of an already established player in the top flight league. He was in a different class compared to these youth players. But the only issue here...

'Sigh!... we'll see what the manager decides.' he thought to himself.

After a moment, Haar closed the file, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. He looked at van der Zee, his expression hard to read.

"Send it to the club," he said finally, his voice low but firm.

Van der Zee nodded unquestioningly, already moving to gather the rest of the files.

There were other players who had caught his eye, but Benjamin's performance, even cut short, had left an impression. He stacked the files neatly, Benjamin's at the top, and made a note to include the trial match video when sending the information to AZ Alkmaar.

Around them, other scouts in the booth were making similar moves. Some were on their phones, others collecting notes and footage.

Though, Benjamin's injury might have ended his game for this trial match, but his name was now on multiple lists, his future hanging in the balance.

---

Spaarne Gasthuis Hospital, Haarlem City...

The next morning, the air in the hospital room was heavy with silence. Benjamin lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling.

The sterile smell of the room filled his nose, but he barely noticed. His leg, wrapped in bandages and slightly elevated due to swelling, throbbed with a dull ache.

Coach Jansen sat by his side, his face creased with worry. He had been there from the moment Benjamin was wheeled into the emergency room. Now, he sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, as he tried to offer some comfort.

"The doctor said your old wound opened up," Coach Jansen said, trying to keep his tone light, but the concern in his eyes was unmistakable. "It's not as bad as we thought, but this time around… you'll need to undergo surgery."

Benjamin's heart sank. Surgery.

The word echoed in his mind, his left hand clenched the bedsheet turning his knuckles white. He tried to process what Coach Jansen was saying, but his mind kept wandering back to the field, to the moment he felt that force collide with his knee.

He never thought that Lars would be so petty as to commit such a ruthless tackle. Humans really are unpredictable, now here he was, lying on the hospital bed. He regretted riling up his opponent.

'F*ck!,' he thought, frustration and fear intertwining in his chest.

He had fought so hard to get to this point. The hours of training, the sacrifices of the past six months, everything had been for this moment. And now, it felt like it was slipping away.

Coach Jansen glanced at him, his expression softening. "You were doing everything right," he said gently. "It wasn't your fault."

But Benjamin didn't respond. He just stared at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of doubt and anger.

He replayed the moment over and over in his mind but no matter how many times he went through it, nothing changed. His knee was still injured. He was still here, in this hospital bed, and the dream of making it to the top felt farther away than ever.

The surgery, how was he going to afford the cost and the rehab after that? It all seemed like a mountain too high to climb.

And even if he could somehow undergo surgery, what if he couldn't come back from this? What if his knee never healed the same way?

Coach Jansen, sensing Benjamin's inner turmoil, leaned forward. "Look, Benjamin, I know this is hard. But you've got something most players don't, grit. You've bounced back before, and you can do it again."

Benjamin remained silent, though Jansen's words offered some comfort. His mind, however, couldn't shake the images of the injuries that had nearly derailed him before. This wasn't his first setback, but it felt like the biggest one yet.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the nagging doubts, but they persisted, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. What if this was it? What if his career was over before it had even truly begun?

Coach Jansen sat back in his chair, giving Benjamin some space. He knew there wasn't much more he could say right now to placate the kid.

The young player needed time to process everything, to come to terms with the reality of his situation. But Coach Jansen also knew that Benjamin had more fight in him than he realized. He just had to find it again.

The room fell back into silence, save for the faint beeping of the machines monitoring Benjamin's vitals. As the minutes ticked by, Benjamin lay still, lost in his thoughts.

Suddenly, the doors creaked open drawing their attention and two men walked into the room.