The gray clouds overhead at Crestwood's training ground were mirrored in the players' moods. The league table was tight, with every point valuable, and it was general knowledge that the championship would be decided in the final week of the season. The lads jogged out onto the trimmed grass, boots crunching into the damp ground.
Coach Warren stood waiting with his whistle in hand. "We're in the final stretch now, lads. This is where the good teams separate themselves from the great ones. Matches will be tighter, nerves will be higher, and mistakes will cost more. But you've put yourselves in this position, so embrace it. Work hard here, and it will show on Saturdays."
Training started with physical training. Sprints up and down the field, running through cones, and push-ups until their arms hurt. Ethan's legs felt like lead, but he refused to give up. He thought about all those matches where his goals or passes determined the result, and he trained even more.
Then passing drills. Quick one-touch triangles, moving the play, then small rondos where Callum was trying to nutmeg anyone he could. Mason was shouting at the young boys to stay focused. "Concentrate! Don't just pass it for the sake of it. Make it count."
Ethan's touches were crisp, his vision decent. He could feel his confidence coming back.
Then it was time for the tactical session. Coach Warren summoned them into a huddle around the whiteboard that he had wheeled onto the field. "These next two games, teams are going to park the bus against us. They'll have analyzed our threats. So this is what we do: movement off the ball. If Ethan draws two players, that opens up space for Callum. If Mason's under pressure, Ethan drops off. Trust each other, play together, and we'll find the spaces."
They rehearsed attacking combinations again and again. Ethan playing passes in behind to Callum, Mason making late runs to the edge of the area, the wide players cutting inside to open up room. Each movement had to be second nature, drilled until hesitation was a distant memory.
In the final scrimmage, the nerves were on edge. Callum was calling for the ball incessantly. Mason was barking commands at everyone. Ethan, though, was in his element in the chaos. One moment he nutmegged a defender, the next he curled a pass into Callum's path. When Callum slotted his shot home, the whole side went up.
The three of them collapsed onto the grass after the whistle. Callum grinned between gasps for breath. "Play like this and no one's going to stop us."
Mason propped himself up on his elbows. "Providing we keep our heads. One bad game and the whole table gets turned upside down."
Ethan looked from one to the other. "Then let's not play a bad game. We've come too far for that."
Coach Warren appeared, voice low but commanding. "Good session. Titles aren't won in one game. They're won in every bit of work you do, here and now. Take that into the weekend."
The boys walked off the field, and Ethan couldn't help but feel a nervous excitement. The league was there for the taking, and he knew this sort of training was what would take them there.