Areola walked back to his room, feeling a mix of disappointment and anticipation. He sat down on his bed, staring at his phone, willing it to buzz with a notification. Any news would be good news at this point, he thought. He tried calling Max again, but it went straight to voicemail.
As he waited, Areola's mind began to wander. Had Max heard something already? Had he been offered a spot on the team? The not knowing was starting to get to him. He got up and began to pace around the room, trying to shake off the feeling of uncertainty.
Just as he was starting to feel like he couldn't take the waiting anymore, Areola's phone suddenly buzzed in his hand. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly checked the screen, hoping it was news from the coach or Max. But it was just a text from an unknown number, and all it said was "Meet me at the lobby". Areola's heart sank, but he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Who could it be? And what did they want to talk about?
Areola walked to the lobby, expecting to meet someone, but saw no one. He stepped outside and noticed Max talking to someone, but as soon as Max caught his eye, they both walked off together. Areola was left wondering what that was about. He texted the unknown number back, saying he didn't see anyone. Just then, Brandt tapped him on the back. The defender was smiling and accompanied by two men in suits.
"Congratulations, kid, you're in," Brandt said with enthusiasm. Areola's eyes widened in surprise as joy overwhelmed him. He felt like he was on cloud nine, having made it one step closer to his dream. One of the men in suits approached him, handed him some papers and an envelope, and began to explain the next steps ¹.
"Welcome to St. Pauli, Areola," the man said. "We've prepared a contract for you. You'll need to be at physical training tomorrow, and then there will be a final session to determine whether you'll be part of the first or second team. If everything goes well, we'll finalize the contract, and you'll be part of the team."
Areola's mind was racing as he took the papers and envelope. He couldn't believe it – he had done it! He had made it to the next stage and felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. With a huge smile on his face, Areola nodded eagerly, ready to start this new chapter of his life.
Areola burst into his temporary housing, phone in hand, and immediately dialed his mom's number. As soon as she picked up, he blurted out the news: "Mom, I did it! I made it to the next stage, and I might get contracted! I'm one step closer to fulfilling my dreams!" His mom's voice was filled with joy and tears as she congratulated him, but she also cautioned him to be careful and not to put too much pressure on himself. "Sweetie, I'm so proud of you, but remember to take things one step at a time. Don't force it if it's not meant to be. You know I just want what's best for you."
Areola nodded, even though she couldn't see him, and promised to be careful. After hanging up with his mom, he immediately dialed Max's number, eager to share the news and find out if his friend had also been selected. But Max didn't pick up, and Areola's excitement began to clash with disappointment. He had really wanted them to make it together, and the thought of possibly being separated was unsettling. He tried calling Max again, but there was no response. Areola couldn't shake off the feeling that Max might not have made it, and he couldn't help but wonder what that would mean for their friendship and his own journey.
Areola couldn't sleep that night, his mind racing with thoughts of the upcoming physical training and medical tests. He knew this was a crucial step in the selection process, and he was determined to give it his all. He tossed and turned, his nerves getting the better of him.
Early the next morning, he tried calling Max again, but still, there was no response. Areola couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, but he pushed it aside and focused on the task at hand. He got ready and headed to the Millerntor-Stadion, the home stadium of FC St. Pauli, where he assumed he would need to report for his medical tests.
Upon arrival, he was directed to the team's training facilities, where he met with the team's medical staff. They led him to a room where various tests were set up, including cardiovascular and musculoskeletal assessments.
The tests began with a series of physical examinations, including a thorough check-up of his joints, muscles, and overall physical condition. Areola was then asked to perform a series of exercises to assess his endurance, speed, and agility. These included running on a treadmill, jumping tests, and shuttle runs.
Next, he underwent a series of medical tests, including blood work and a cardiovascular stress test. The medical staff monitored his heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels while he exercised intensively.
The tests were designed to assess Areola's overall fitness and suitability for professional football. He knew that the results would play a significant role in determining his future with the team, and he was determined to give it his all. With a mix of nerves and focus, Areola tackled each test with determination, hoping to prove himself worthy of a spot on the team.
The test that pushed Areola to his limit was the VO2 max test, a grueling assessment of his aerobic endurance. He was hooked up to a mask that measured his oxygen consumption while he ran on a treadmill at increasingly intense intervals. Every second felt like an eternity as his breath grew shorter and his legs began to feel like lead. His body screamed for relief, but he refused to give in.
As the test wore on, Areola's vision began to blur, and his lungs burned with a fiery intensity. He felt like he was on the verge of collapse, but he dug deep, drawing on every last ounce of determination he possessed. He couldn't let his dreams slip away, not now, not when he was so close.
Finally, the test was stopped, and Areola stumbled off the treadmill, gasping for air. He desperately tried to compose himself, not wanting to show the medical staff that he was utterly exhausted. He managed to maintain his stance, though his body felt like it was on the brink of destruction.
The person in charge scribbled some notes on his clipboard and glanced at Areola before turning his attention to the next player, who was waiting to undergo his medicals. Areola watched as the official's gaze shifted, his expression unreadable. What had he written? Had Areola passed with flying colors, or had he raised some red flags? Only time would tell.