Chapter 1- Beginnings

1 - Beginnings of Adrian Randin

The roar of the crowd threatened to blow my ears out. The little stadium was packed with the biggest crowd I've ever seen in my life, I'd only just started playing for Stoke City FC about 2 months before, and I was scouted by the manager himself from the Sunderland youth academy. I'm only eighteen years of age, making a debut in the first team of a club in the championship, we were just a league away from the Premier League, and if we won the championship we would get promoted, if we were not in the top two then we must do play-offs to decide who gets promoted. 

I sighed, the players around me looked concerned and occasionally shot me worried glances as if to say I wasn't ready. If Steven (manager) said I was ready, then all there is left to do is believe in myself. This world is governed by strength, the OVR system, I'm only eighteen but I have amassed a rating of 80 OVR through intense training. I was not a very notable rank, but all clubs are looking for exponentially growing talents, and Steven always did his best to keep my talents hidden, so I can be of use to Stoke before I get picked off by a big club. 

I looked at my stats once more, reassuring my belief that I could do this:

Adrian Randin:

Pos: CAM

OVR: 80

Pace: 88

Shot: 85

Dribbling: 79

Passing: 82

Phy:79

Defending: 70

Aerial Prowess: 79

I had a lot to improve, but this kind of stats could take the championship by storm, I'll admit, sometimes I can't find the drive to keep going, but for the club, the manager, and the name on the back of my shirt I must keep going. 

We walked onto the pitch, in Stoke's signature red and white, what made this occasion even worse was the fact that it was an away game, against my old team, Sunderland. The tensions were high, and the cameras were flashing, I even noticed a few cameramen targeting me, I remained resolute and strong, I could not afford to look weak. 

The pre-match formalities were over and since it was Sunderland's ground, they started with the ball. Jobe Bellingham, the brother of the Jude Bellingham began with the ball and as soon as the whistle sounded, he passed to his fellow striker, Jack Clarke. They began passing immediately, it was a frenzy, a well-organized strategy. The midfielders played a huge role in their strategy. 

Our strategy you say? Press, press, press, and then steal and then score. My job? steal and pass or take the shot when I must, I do play CAM. 

A smile overtook my once nervous expression, and my team began noticing this, one of the strikers, Tyrese Campbell grinned at my expression, "Looks, like Sunderland won't know what hit them." 

I ran forward, passing by the players on the other team, trying to get into open space, for the ball had just been stolen back from Sunderland by our other Midfielder, Lewis Baker, and a smooth lob later, the ball was at my feet, now the game began.

I ran forward, but no one could keep up, I made sure to relent on the pace, manager's advice, keep the strikers in front of you, make space for them, and if not, dribble until you can make the space. So I did just that. 

I chopped the ball sending their left back in the wrong direction, suddenly the space was there, I leaned back, my feet almost back, and the inside of my foot curled the ball into the box, it was a beautifully curved arc of prowess which found Campbell at the left post of the goal and he finished it effortlessly, my first goal contribution, in the first 7 minutes of play, on my debut, I ran to celebrate with my team. 

The match restarted but now I wanted something else, I can't just let the other shine, I don't care if other clubs want to scout or sign me, I can't suppress my need to score goals. I am not the kind to go for the money, I will only leave after getting this team to the premier league. 

Jack Clarke was speeding toward our goal and was about to pass to Jobe when I sprinted down the field and intercepted the pass, it was too predictable, they weren't subtle. I ran back up the field, the ball now my hostage on the field. With each player I passed by, the thrill was getting to my head, I nutmegged Neill and rouletted Ballard, the other center-back couldn't keep up with my pace. 

I was one-on-one with the keeper, with the other strikers yelling at me to pass, let me shine too. I took the shot curling around, it smashed into the top corner of the net and stayed there spinning for a couple of seconds before dropping to the floor. I grinned, the championship was mine for the taking. 

Two-goal contributions in twenty-five minutes, I spent the last twenty minutes running up and down the field, it was a war between the midfield, and if I slowed down, then they could create an opening that we couldn't have. But they tired eventually and I lobbed the ball over the heads of the defenders, Campbell rushed in but was fouled by Neill. 

Free Kick. Just before the halftime whistle. 

We had to score, this would crush Sunderland's morale into nothing, miss and they would be able to go to the locker room, pleased they could stop something. We have to score. Campbell stood a few paces behind the ball waiting for the whistle. I went up to him and pleaded with him, "Tyrese, please let me take this, you fake and I'll shoot just this once eh?" 

"You sound like a baby but fine..." he sighed. 

The ref blew the whistle and Campbell rushed forwards and faked, I flew forward right behind him, leaned back, my foot was almost at my head's level and I smashed the ball, i watched as it curled over the defender's wall, past the reaches of the keeper and into the top right corner. 

I ran off to the corner of the pitch and slid on my knee, slapping the corner flag. My team were right behind me, we celebrated, right in Sunderland faces, the second half should be som much more easier now.