Chapter 5: Grit and Grind
Ethan Cole stood in a Portswood park at 3:00 PM on Saturday after sleeping throughout the morning the grass slick under his boots, the air sharp with salt from Southampton's docks. His Bournemouth assist yesterday—curling that ball to Ollie—had proved the Football Prodigy System was real. No more doubts. The system was his ticket to the Premier League, to saving Mum from Tesco's grind. The screen glowed, sharp as St Mary's floodlights: [Daily Task: Practice Cruyff Turn 20 times. Reward: +1 Dribbling, 300 Goat Points.]
"Right, let's do this," Ethan said, his voice firm. The Cruyff Turn (0% completion) was his new weapon, bought for 1000 Goat Points after the match. The system's coach-like voice guided: Drag, pivot, accelerate, host. He set up cones, the park empty save for a squawking gull. Mud sprayed his shins as he dragged the ball back, pivoting left, but it rolled wide. "Bollocks," he muttered, trying again. By the 20th attempt, his pivot was tighter, the ball sticking like glue. The screen flashed:
[Task Complete. Dribbling +1, 300 Goat Points. Total GP: 1400. Cruyff Turn: 25% Completion.]
Ethan's legs buzzed,he downed the last C-grade recovery potion from Bournemouth easing his aches,a cool rush wiping out fatigue. I'm getting there, he thought, St Mary's red-and-white stripes blazing in his mind.
Back home, Sarah was at Tesco, her shift dragging past 5:00 PM. Ethan ate leftover stew, the flat's damp air heavy. He pictured her calloused hands scanning groceries, her tired smile fueling his resolve. For her. For Dad. He crashed early, sleeping soundly, the system's promise a quiet hum.
Sunday morning, 7:00 AM, Ethan hit the park again, practicing Cruyff Turn without a task. The system's lines guided his feet—drag, spin, sprint. He nailed ten more, the ball dancing closer to his boots. A jogger clapped, mistaking him for a show-off. Ethan grinned, his confidence growing. This is me now.
Monday's academy session at noon was a grinder, the pitch a muddy mess under Southampton's grey sky. Ollie Price juggled a ball, his ginger hair bright. "Oi, Ethan! That assist on friday was mental. You doping or what?" His laugh echoed
"Just grafting, mate," Ethan said, his grin real. He used the snooping function on Jake Turner, the team's striker, a lad with shoulders like a prop. The screen popped up:
Name: Jake Turner
Age: 17
Profession: Footballer
Status: Youth Academy Player
Player Rating: 65
Position: Striker
Potential: 82
[STATS]
Finishing: 70
Positioning: 68
Dribbling: 62
...
Ethan's jaw tightened. Jake's 65 rating crushed his 52, but his Potential (100) was higher, that gives him is confident back,I'll catch him. Coach Marcus's whistle cut through: "Scrimmage, lads! Cuts are tomorrow—show me you're worth keeping."
The scrimmage was chaos, boots thudding, mud flying. Ethan, on the right wing, got the ball, his heart pounding like a drum. He faced a defender, used Cruyff Turn (25%), dragging the ball back and spinning left. The defender tripped, and Ethan fired a Precise Pass (75%) to Jake, who blasted it over. Jake nodded, a rare respect. Ollie whooped, "Dead chuffed, Ethan!
Coach Marcus scribbled, his eyes on Ethan.
After the training coach Marcus gathered the team, his face grim. "Listen up. Cuts are in. Tom, Liam, you're out—pack your bags and don't give up keep improving, Rest of you are safe for now. But this ain't a free pass. keep improving, or you're next." Ethan's gut unclenched, but the warning stung. Safe for now. The system's quest glowed: [Survive the academy cut: +1 Skill, 2000 Goat Points.]
At 3:00 PM, Ethan and Sarah hit a café near St Mary's, its neon sign flickering, the air thick with chips and coffee. Sarah sipped tea, her apron off for once. "Your dad would've loved that assist she said, eyes soft. "He'd play winger in the park, weaving past kids half his age. You're like him,am sure he is very proud of you right now.
Ethan's throat caught, her Tesco-worn hands grounding him. "I'm gonna make it, Mum. For you both." She squeezed his arm, her pride like a warm fire. He saw her scanning groceries, her back bent, and vowed to climb higher.
That night, under De Bruyne's poster, the system pinged: [Match Quest: Score or assist in Wednesday's match. Reward: +3 Stat Points, 1000 Goat Points.]
Ethan's blood surged. The cut was dodged, but the next match was his chance to shine brighter. He set his alarm for 6:00 AM, ready to grind. Zero to GOAT, he thought, the screen fading into his stats block
Name: Ethan Cole
Age: 16
Profession: Footballer
Status: Youth Academy Player
System Evaluation: A kid with potential
Player Rating: 53
Position: Attacking Midfielder/Winger
Potential: 100
[STATS]
Acceleration: 56
Sprint Speed: 57
Agility: 58
Balance: 56
Jumping: 49
Reaction: 49
Stamina: 58
Strength: 57
Positioning: 50
Vision: 57
Ball Control: 56
Crossing: 56
Dribbling: 57 (+1)
Finishing: 50
Short Pass: 55
Long Pass: 45
[SKILLS POSSESSED]
Precise Pass: 75% Completion
Cruyff Turn: 25% Completion