The atmosphere in the changing room before the final match was filled with a tense, nervous silence. This was different from the last day against Westford. There was no shared history or team spirit to lean on, just the raw ambition of fifty boys all chasing the same dream. Ethan sat fully geared up, methodically re-tying his boots for the third time. He could feel the weight of every coach's gaze before he even stepped onto the pitch.
The Bibs team, an all-star lineup on paper, started strong with a series of precise passes, but they lacked teamwork. They felt more like solo artists than a cohesive unit. The Non-Bibs, playing with a desperate, unified hunger, defended in a tight, organized line. They pressured Ethan and Marcus, making it hard for them to find any rhythm.
In the 22nd minute, the Non-Bibs scored. A quick counter-attack caught the Bibs' defense off guard. A low, hard cross was met at the near post, and the ball was pushed over the line. The underdogs were in the lead.
A frustrated silence settled over the Bibs team. Fingers were pointed and shoulders sagged. It was in that moment of chaos that Ethan found his calm. He started dropping deeper, asking for the ball from his defenders, and slowing the game down. He remembered Coach Warren's advice from many tense halftime talks: Trust our football.
He began to take charge. Simple, quick passes at first helped rebuild the team's confidence. Then, in the 35th minute, he spotted his chance. He drove into the midfield, drawing two players towards him before sliding a perfectly timed pass into the channel for Marcus. Without hesitation, Marcus fired a powerful strike that soared past the goalkeeper and into the roof of the net. It was a goal formed from the respect they had built all week. They were level at halftime.
The second half was much more even. The Bibs played like a team now, with Ethan at the center of every play. Midway through the half, Leo came on, his face set with determined focus. He chased every ball, made tackles, and provided an energy boost that lifted the entire team.
In the 71st minute, the key moment arrived. The ball was worked out to Ethan on the edge of the box. He saw Marcus making a run and shaped to pass, causing the defender to take a half-step in that direction. That was all he needed. Ethan pulled the ball back, shifted it to his other foot, and curled a low, precise shot around the defender and into the corner of the goal.
The Bibs held on for the 2-1 win, but the score felt less important. As the final whistle blew, players from both teams collapsed on the grass, utterly exhausted. They shook hands, sharing a silent acknowledgment of the battle they had just fought.
After showering, they gathered in the lecture hall one last time.
"Gentlemen," the head coach said, looking over their tired faces. "This week has been incredibly competitive. You have all represented your clubs and yourselves well. The final selections have been made, but you will not hear them today. You will receive a letter within the next week informing you of the outcome. Whether you are invited back or not, don't let this week be the peak of your journey. Use it as fuel."
The finality of his words was clear. The camp was over.
Ethan found Leo by the entrance as parents began to arrive.
"You were great when you came on," Ethan said sincerely.
"Thanks," Leo replied, a hopeful smile on his face. "Good luck, mate. I really hope I see you at the next one."
He then spotted Marcus, who was leaving with his dad. The United player caught his eye and gave him a respectful nod. "Good game," he said before disappearing into the parking lot.
Ethan saw his mum's car and walked over, his bag feeling heavier than it had all week. He got in, and the familiar comfort of the passenger seat wrapped around him.
"How did it go?" his mum asked gently.
Ethan stared out the window at the imposing facility as they drove away. "I did my best," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now we just have to wait."