The week of training was cold in every way possible. The league table was tighter than ever, with Riverton and Westford close behind, adding intense pressure to every drill.
But the coldest part of the pitch was around Callum.
He arrived at training quiet, his usual loud and confident energy completely gone. Coach Shaw, a man of few words, made his point without saying anything. While the starting team and substitutes practiced high-intensity possession drills, Callum and two other reserve players were sent to the far pitch with a fitness coach for grueling conditioning work. They did sprints, shuttle runs, and burpees repeatedly, while the rest of the team trained just fifty yards away.
He was, without a doubt, in exile.
The team noticed. The drills were effective but lacked joy; their top striker's spark was missing. Ryan, the substitute forward, worked hard, but he didn't have Callum's instinctive connection with Ethan.
After the session, the team moved back into the changing rooms, leaving Callum to finish his final set of sprints. Ethan and Mason exchanged glances. The anger from the match had faded, replaced by an uncomfortable feeling.
"He's destroying himself," Ethan said quietly. "He did it to himself," Mason replied, though his tone lacked conviction. "He had to learn." "He's learned," Ethan said. "Now he just looks broken."
Ethan decided to act. He waited until the changing room was nearly empty, then walked back onto the floodlit pitch. Callum sat alone on the turf, breathing heavily with his head in his hands, not moving to go inside. He didn't look up as Ethan approached.
"Heard you enjoyed training today," Ethan said, sitting down a few feet away.
Callum didn't respond for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. "You were right. Coach Shaw, Mason, and you. You were all right." He pulled at a clump of grass. "I watched the game video last night. I looked like an idiot. I was just running around with my head down. I wasn't even playing football."
"You were scared," Ethan said. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact.
"Terrified," Callum whispered, finally looking up, his eyes were red. "You got your deal. You're gone. And I'm just... here. I thought if I didn't score four goals a game, I'd get left behind. I thought I had to impress the scouts with something amazing."
"And what did you show them?" Ethan asked, his voice firm but kind. Callum flinched. "That I'm selfish. That I can't be trusted. That I'm not a team player. That I'm... useless." He dropped his head back into his hands. "I'm benched, Ethan. And I deserve it. I've probably ruined my chances for the rest of the season."
"So, what are you going to do?" Ethan asked. Callum looked up, confused. "What do you mean? I'm going to run laps until the coach tells me to stop."
"No," Ethan said, shaking his head. "I've been where you are, Cal. Remember before the Eastfield game? I was a ghost. I was so scared of losing my West Brom offer that I stopped playing. The pressure made me a coward. And now it's making you look foolish. But the lesson is the same."
He leaned in. "The scouts, the England coaches... they don't want the kid who tries a bicycle kick and loses the ball. They want the kid who makes the unselfish run that allows someone else to score. They want the player who wins. West Brom didn't sign me after I scored a wonder goal. They signed me after I learned to be a decoy so you could score. They want team players, Cal. They want winners."
He stood up and reached out his hand to his friend. "You're the best pure striker in this league. But no one is going to sign a striker who doesn't play for his team. So, stop running laps. Start working. Earn your spot back. Not by being spectacular, but by being solid. Be the teammate we need you to be, and everything else will fall into place."
Callum stared at Ethan's outstretched hand. He felt exhausted, humiliated, and at the lowest point of his young career. But for the first time since Ethan's news, he saw a clear way forward. It wasn't about him. It never had been.
He took Ethan's hand and let his friend pull him to his feet.