11 September, 2001
(Third Person POV)
"What day is today?" asked a boy dressed in a school uniform—white shirt with green lines and similar dark green pants—carrying a shoulder bag and a duffle bag. His dark hair swayed in the air, and his eyes looked tired.
Beside him was a boy wearing a similar uniform and bag; his blonde hair and constant smile gave him a playful vibe.
"It's Tuesday. Strength & Conditioning (30 min gym + speed/agility), then Technical Drills till 9:30 p.m.," replied Matt with a grin, knowing his friend didn't like anything without the ball.
"Ugh, can't we just play football?" grumbled the boy.
"Come on, Jack. Let's get through the gym part quickly. Coach Roy's supervising the drills today," he said, walking faster.
He wanted to show off in front of the U-17 coach. Maybe he could secure a spot.
"I doubt he'll pick us! The U-17 boys are all giants," said the lazy Jack, dragging his shoes along the pavement.
"Still, we are better than them, aren't we?" Matt said with a grin.
Jack, too, looked at Matt with the same grin.
In the beginning, Matt had faced isolation. He couldn't handle the egos and gossip of 10-year-old boys, even though he was smaller than them.
It was only Jack who approached him and asked him questions about football. They bickered and slowly became friends.
It had been three months since he had joined the Arsenal Youth Academy. His parents were initially reluctant, as they wanted him to become a doctor like his mother or a scholar like his father.
He had to bring out his grandparents. After showing them some tricks in the garden, he unleashed them towards his mom and dad.
It was decided then that if he couldn't make it to the first team by 18, he would quit playing football and start preparing for a good college. And if grades dropped below average, he would have to leave the academy.
"Oi, you lot! You're late," said a boy wearing a different-colored school uniform but of similar age to the other two 9-year-olds.
"Blame Matt! Took forever. Girls kept swarming him after class," said Jack quickly.
"Ewww," said Mark with disgust. And Jack was making the same face.
'It was because I ranked first again in the tests, you idiot,' Matt thought with a sigh.
"Who likes talking to the girls, innit? Right, Jack?" said Mark as they began walking again.
"Yes! They are gross and scary," said Jack, nodding.
Mark Randall was another friend he had made recently. His parents were lawyers and worked for a big company. So, he was going to a super expensive private school and always thought himself the leader of the pack.
"Today, I want extra passes for making me wait," said Mark, looking at Matt.
"Hey! Me too, I want to score some goals," said a now suddenly energetic Jack.
"It's Tuesday, you clowns," said Matt, as he couldn't take any more of this.
The trio reached the training ground just on time, got into training gear, and started the warm-up drills before the coach arrived. It was essential for them, as today's training focused heavily on body movement.
(POV End)
(First Person POV – Gary Banford)
After retiring from the military, having served more than 20 years—half of my life—never thought football and teaching kids discipline would make me this stressed.
During my time here, I have realised: in football, talent gets you seen, but hard work makes you remembered.
"Today, I want you to do your best in training. Head coach of the U-17 Arsenal team, Roy Massey, will be inspecting," I said, trying to motivate them, which worked, as there was an excited smile on most of the kids.
This year's recruitment has been one of the best in the last five years that I have seen. Jack, Matt—two bright prospects—might one day debut for Arsenal.
"Alright, line up. Speed–agility sprints (10–20 m accelerations), begin."
I watched as Matt completed his sprint. He was the fastest among them. Roy would be impressed...
Where is he? It's past 7, he should have been here an hour ago.
I took out my phone and called him.
Ring
Ring
Ring
"Roy, it's Gary. Where are you?" I asked, masking my discomfort.
"I'm at home, Gary," he replied with a somber tone.
"The kids have started their training. They were so excited when I told them you would supervise—" Before I could finish, he stopped me.
"Cancel the training today, Gary... see the news. Let the kids go home," he said, then ended the call.
My breathing got uneven. Calm down, Gary, you're retired. But his tone reminded me of my superiors when they told us about the deaths of fellow soldiers.
"Lads, don't stop. I'll be coming back in five," I said, walking toward my office, where a TV was placed.
It took me a minute to reach there. I was already sweating.
I flicked on the TV. Nothing.
Switching to BBC, my jaw dropped. Hands on my head, I couldn't believe what I was seeing...
I sat down to process the news, my head blanking as so many thoughts rushed forward.
Getting up abruptly, I closed the door behind me, leaving the TV on, and made my way back to the field.
Even from a distance, I could see these children giving their hardest—just for recognition and passion.
"Good. Now we're doing weight training! After that, stretching. Then we'll play a 30-minute game—A Team vs B Team," I said, making them raise their arms and high-five each other.
Stopping? That's what they want. I won't let them have that. Those bastards can't stop us from being happy, from being better. I will make these kids the best footballers in the world.
(POV End)
(Matt's POV)
Today's training had been brutal. I didn't expect Coach Gary to be so fired up. Did he get a raise or something?
The U-17 coach had ditched the session. I think that made him angry, so he took it out on us. I could see most players had run out of gas, and now he wanted us to play a 30-minute game.
"So I am now going to divide the teams.
Team A (Formation: 4–2–3–1)
Starting XI:
GK: James Fletcher
RB: Oliver Bennett
CB: Archie Wells
CB: Harry Morgan
LB: Charlie Hughes
CDM: George Whitaker
CDM: Alfie Robinson
RW: Mark Randall
CAM: Samuel Carter
LW: Thomas Bailey
ST (C): Jack Wilshere"
When coach announced Jack as captain, many players' expressions soured—and I don't blame them.
Jack is good, but selfish. He tries to take all the chances himself.
"Now, Team B (Formation: 4–2–3–1)
Starting XI:
GK: William Burke
RB: Leo Harrison
CB: Lucas Hammond
CB: Freddie Dawson
LB: Finley Collins
CDM: Henry Lawson
CDM: Noah Chapman
RW: Ethan Webb
CAM (C): Matthew Delevigne
LW: Benjamin Clarke
ST: Jacob Riley"
Sigh. That was expected. Well, I can score from distance anyway.
"Now Team B, grab the vests and get ready. If your name has not been called, you'll be subbed after 20 minutes. Take this game seriously," Coach said as he walked toward the bench.
I looked at my teammates, who had started gathering around. The same was happening on the other side with Team A.
I walked toward them and began explaining the plan.
"Jacob, do you want a hat trick?" I said, enticing him.
"YES, Captain!" exclaimed the excited 10-year-old. That's one battle already won.
"Henry, Noah—I want you to focus on the angles. Just look at me. William, stay sharp in goal. Jacob, as I receive the ball, just make a run toward the goal." Everyone nodded. It wasn't the first time in the last three months that we'd played together.
"Heh, we've already won. We have Matt anyway," chuckled Noah, while the others smiled.
I shook my head and looked over at Jack and Mark arguing. Glad I don't have that smartass in my team.
The game started as we took our positions… and after a few minutes, it got messy. Players leaving their positions, poor coordination, bad touches—everything.
Our team's linkup play looked smoother. We had natural centre-backs.
Team A was building an attack—George passed to Samuel.
Immediately, I pressed Samuel. As expected, he fumbled. I took the ball and burst forward.
George and Samuel were behind me, Alfie and Harry in front.
I looked across and saw a gap—Jacob was already in the box. I sent in a lofted pass. He couldn't time the kick, and the ball went to the left of the goal. Fortunately, the keeper touched it. Corner.
"Noah, just pass it to me," I called as I set up around ten feet back.
Charlie was marking me, close.
Noah rolled the ball short. Three defenders closed in. I turned and struck it clean with my laces.
Straight through them all—into the back of the net.
"YES!" I raised my fists, the ball still rippling the net.
By 20 minutes, we were up 13–2.
I scored 6 or 7 myself and assisted the rest. Jacob got his hat trick. We were on fire.
"Matt, Jack, Henry, Noah—off for now," Coach called from the sidelines.
"Let's go. My dad must be waiting for me in the parking lot," said Jack, hurrying.
"We leaving him behind?" I asked, nodding at the boy who didn't bother changing his sweaty clothes.
He tilted his head. "Who?"
Sigh. "Never mind. It's 9:30. Let's go," I said, as we started toward the parking lot.
Getting there, I saw Dad talking with Jack's father. Both had solemn expressions as they spoke seriously.
After saying goodbye, I slumped into the seat, tossing my bag into the back. Dad started driving.
"Dad! Today I scored 7 goals and assisted 6. Jack scored too, but he was on the other team," I said excitedly. I've perfected the art of being a child.
"That's great, Matt. I'm happy. How about we stop and get some ice cream?" said Daniel Delevigne.
"Yay!" I exclaimed in glee.
Ice cream equals happy man.
(POV End)
(Third Person POV)
I shouldn't have eaten three scoops. Now I need to pee, Matt thought, quickly jumping out of the car as it pulled up to the house.
Without taking out his bags, he sprinted for the door.
"Take your bags first!" Daniel shouted after him.
Ignored, of course.
Sighing, Daniel grabbed the bags himself and locked the car.
As he entered, he spotted Matt standing frozen in front of the television in the living room—eyes wide. Silent..
Matthew Delevingne... had forgotten where he was.
'How? How did I forget something so big!' thought Matt as he heard the news anchor speak about victims.
"Matt! Eva, turn off the TV!" said Daniel as he hurried towards the boy, who hadn't taken his eyes off the screen.
Eva, who was on the sofa and hadn't seen Matt enter the hall, was shocked and rushed towards him.
"Sorry, I didn't see him," she said to Daniel, then stood in front of Matt, blocking his view of the screen.
She gently cupped his cheeks in her palms and hugged him.
She was terrified. It was the first time she had seen her son look so scared. He had rarely cried as a baby, which had always bothered her as a doctor.
Daniel had switched off the TV and sat down on the sofa. It had been a long, tiring day for him. Still, the incident—this serious—made him grateful to be alive. Death has a way of giving meaning to life.
"Baby, say something," she whispered in his ear.
'It had been years since he was reborn—some beautiful, laid-back years.
I had completely forgotten about these big moments that had defined my previous world. Shit, I've relaxed way too much. I need to structure my memories again… about this… I don't think I could've done anything, even if I had known… but still, it's not a nice feeling,' thought Matt, as tears slipped from his eyes.
"Matt?" she spoke softly, looking into his eyes, which were the same as hers.
Matt felt a little pain in his heart as he looked at his mother's crying face.
He wiped her tears with his hands, which he hadn't washed after playing football.
"Don't cry, Mom. I just felt bad for those people," he said, not mentioning anything about the incident.
She smiled and squished his face after wiping his tears.
Daniel called both of them to his side. Matt looked at his father, who patted the boy's head with affection.
"You're a good boy, Matt. Do you want to talk about anything?"
"Dad, will bad people who hurt others get punished?" he asked.
"Yes, they will get heavy punishment," said Daniel, his smile a little strained.
"Uhmm, that's good," said Matt with a smile, as he sat on the sofa.
It was quiet for a while, but when Eva noticed the dirty footprints from muddy football studs and Matt's sweaty jersey… let's just say it wasn't so quiet anymore in the Delevigne family home.