Three weeks into his time at the academy, Cruyff had settled into a routine that felt both familiar and strange. Training sessions where he effortlessly outclassed players his supposed age, tactical meetings where he had to bite his tongue to avoid revealing knowledge he shouldn't possess, and evenings spent in modest lodgings, planning his route back to the top.
The system had been busy during these weeks, offering daily quests that ranged from the mundane (complete 50 passes without a misplaced ball) to the challenging (orchestrate a move that involves all 10 outfield players). His stats continued to climb steadily:
[Current Stats - Level 2]
[Vision: 64/100]
[Passing Accuracy: 75/100]
[Through Ball: 58/100]
[Free Kick: 41/100]
[Dribbling: 45/100]
[Physical: 39/100]
The gap between his technical ability and physical attributes was becoming more pronounced. In his adult body, he'd been strong enough to hold off challenges and quick enough to escape pressure. Now, in his teenage frame, he had to rely purely on intelligence and technique.
"Jensen!" Tony Williams called out after Tuesday's training session. "My office, five minutes."
Cruyff's stomach tightened slightly. In his previous life, being called to the coach's office usually meant one of two things: good news or bad news, with no middle ground.
Williams' office was cramped but functional, walls covered with tactical diagrams and team photos dating back decades. The coach gestured to a chair across from his desk.
"Three weeks you've been with us now. Thoughts?"
"I'm enjoying it, coach. The lads have been welcoming, the training's excellent—"
Williams held up a hand. "Cut the diplomatic answer. What do you really think?"
Cruyff paused, choosing his words carefully. "I think some of the players have more potential than they realize. I think the tactical structure could be more flexible to account for different opposition styles. And I think this academy could develop players ready for the first team sooner than most people expect."
"Interesting." Williams leaned back in his chair. "And what about yourself? Where do you see your development?"
"I need to get stronger, faster. My technical ability is there, but at higher levels, you need the physical foundation to execute under pressure."
"Agreed. Which brings me to why you're here." Williams pulled out a folder. "Saturday's match. U18s versus Leicester City. It's not just any friendly—both clubs will have first-team scouts watching. For them, it's about identifying talent for their development pathways. For us, it's about seeing who can handle pressure."
He slid a team sheet across the desk. Cruyff's name was written in the starting XI, positioned as the central attacking midfielder.
"You're starting?" Cruyff tried to keep the surprise from his voice.
"You've earned it. But I'm going to be honest with you, lad—this is your real test. Training ground performances mean nothing if you can't reproduce them when it matters. When there's a crowd, when there are scouts with notebooks, when your teammates are looking to you to create something special."
[Special Quest Activated]
[Objective: Win first competitive match while getting 2+ assists]
[Bonus Objective: Receive Man of the Match award]
[Super Bonus: Impress watching scouts enough to generate first-team interest]
[Rewards: Major stat increases, unlock "Clutch Performer" ability, potential career acceleration]
Cruyff felt the familiar surge of excitement that came with important matches. This was what he lived for—the moments when everything was on the line.
"I won't let you down, coach."
"I know you won't. But remember—football is a team sport. Your job isn't to be the star. It's to make the team better. Do that, and individual recognition will follow."
As Cruyff left the office, he found several teammates waiting in the corridor. Word had clearly spread about the team selection.
"Bloody hell, Cruyff!" Jamie Torres grinned. "Starting in your first match? That's mental!"
"Deserved though," added Danny Walsh. "You've been our best player in training by miles."
Sarah Mitchell appeared beside them, her expression more serious. "You know Marcus isn't happy, right? He expected to be the focal point of the attack."
Cruyff glanced toward the changing rooms where Marcus Reid was packing his kit bag with slightly more force than necessary.
"I'll talk to him," Cruyff said quietly.
He found Marcus in the car park, leaning against his father's car while scrolling through his phone.
"Marcus."
The striker looked up, his expression guarded. "Come to gloat?"
"Come to talk. Look, I know this isn't ideal for you—"
"You've been here three weeks. Three weeks. I've been at this academy for two years, worked my way up through every age group. And now some new kid comes in and gets handed the starting spot."
Cruyff studied the older boy's face, seeing hurt rather than anger. "You're right. It's not fair. But it's also not permanent. Football's about form, about taking chances when they come. Saturday, my job is to create chances for you to score. Help me do that, and we both look good."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. "You really think you can get me chances?"
"I know I can. But I need you to make the runs, be in the right positions. Trust that the pass will come, even if it seems impossible."
"And if it doesn't work?"
Cruyff smiled. "Then Williams drops me and you get your spot back. Win-win for you."
Marcus almost smiled back. "You're weird, you know that? Most players would be trying to keep their spot by downplaying everyone else."
"I get better when my teammates get better. That's just how I play."
As they shook hands, Cruyff felt a strange sense of déjà vu. In his previous life, he'd had similar conversations with strikers who felt threatened by creative midfielders. The best partnerships always came from understanding that success was shared.
Saturday couldn't come fast enough.
[Teammate Relationship: Marcus Reid - Improved to "Cautious Trust"]
[Training Ground Genius Effect: Team chemistry increasing by 15% per week]