The referee, a bald lanky guy who looked like he didn't want to be here as much as me, wearing an oversized jacket blew the whistle, and twenty men in varying states of fitness surged forward like they were storming a battlefield.
Kai leaned against the cold metal rail at the sidelines, hood pulled low. "And so begins the war of accountants versus IT specialists. Truly, history shall never forget this clash of titans."
Ethan smirked. "You joke now, but just wait. My dad's a striker. Watch and learn."
Kai shot him a sideways look. "Learn what? How to pull a muscle in the first five minutes?"
"Confidence, Kai. Something you clearly lack."
Kai snorted. "I have plenty of confidence, in the fact this'll be boring."
But his eyes betrayed him. They tracked the ball as it rolled across the damp grass, the players' shoes squeaking faintly against the pitch. Ade jogged steadily, not flashy, not dramatic, but controlled, like someone who knew what they were doing. His passes were sharp, his positioning clean.
Kai blinked. Wait. Dad's… actually good?
He buried the thought quickly. No way was he going to admit that out loud.
The first few minutes were clumsy. A midfielder slipped, nearly face-planting. A defender misjudged a header and the ball bounced off his back. Someone shouted, "Wake up, Steve!" and the crowd chuckled.
Kai smirked. "And there it is. Peak Saturday entertainment: men embarrassing themselves in front of their children."
Ethan elbowed him. "Oi, less talking, more watching. My dad's getting the ball."
Sure enough, Mr. Hunt trapped a pass with surprising finesse, spun, and launched it forward. The ball curved beautifully across the pitch. Gasps rose from the small crowd. A striker caught it, fired a shot—
WHAM! Straight into the goalkeeper's chest.
The crowd groaned, then clapped anyway.
Ethan threw his hands up. "See that pass?! Pure magic!"
Kai rolled his eyes. "Wow. Truly, the reincarnation of Beckham. Except for the part where they didn't score."
Still… deep down, he had to admit it. The pass had been good.
Minutes ticked by. The match grew sharper, faster. The players found rhythm, their movements syncing. The crowd's chatter turned to cheers, every near-miss drawing gasps. Children ran along the sidelines, copying the moves with their own little plastic balls.
Kai felt it gnawing at him. The energy. The anticipation. The stupid, infectious excitement.
He shook his head violently. "No. Nope. Not happening. I refuse to be emotionally invested in this nonsense."
Ethan grinned knowingly. "Too late. You're watching too closely."
"I'm people-watching," Kai snapped. "Big difference."
"Sure, mate. Denial is stage one."
Kai's eyes narrowed. "Stage one of what?"
"Becoming a football fan." Ethan smirked like he'd won a bet.
Kai scoffed, but his retort died in his throat. His attention snapped back to the pitch when Ade intercepted a sloppy pass. He didn't just stop it, he controlled it instantly, then pivoted and sent a clean through-ball slicing between defenders.
The striker sprinted, caught it, and shot.
The ball slammed the crossbar, bouncing wildly.
The crowd exploded with noise. "OHHHHH!" Hands flew to heads. Kids shouted. The striker groaned dramatically, hands on knees.
Kai stared, eyes wide for half a second, before he forced his expression back to neutral. "...Lucky pass."
Ethan was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Ohhh, no, you're impressed. I saw it. Don't even deny it."
Kai adjusted his hood, muttering, "I'm just… acknowledging physics."
"Physics, huh?" Ethan folded his arms. "Then explain the artistry of that ball. Go on. Science boy."
Kai opened his mouth, then closed it. No explanation came. Instead, he found himself… watching. Really watching.
The way the players shouted for passes. The quick decisions. The balance between strategy and chaos. It wasn't professional, but it wasn't dull either. It was alive.
And it was dragging him in, inch by inch.
Halfway through the first half, tension spiked. Mr. Hunt dribbled past one, two players, cutting dangerously close to the box. Ade closed in, timing perfect, and slid—
WHOOSH! The tackle was clean, but the sound of sliding boots on wet grass made the crowd hold its breath.
For a terrifying second, it looked like Mr. Hunt might topple. But he steadied, barely, and the ball rolled harmlessly out.
The referee whistled. "Throw-in!"
The crowd exhaled, clapping.
Kai's chest tightened. That was close. Too close.
Ethan leaned in, whispering, "See? My dad almost had him."
Kai shot back instantly. "Almost only counts in horseshoes and grenades."
But his heart was beating faster than it should have been.
The game pressed on. Shouts echoed. Boots thudded. Sweat shone on foreheads despite the chill air. Parents clapped, kids chanted nonsense, and the pitch vibrated with every sprint and clash.
Kai stood there, silent for once, caught between his stubborn refusal to care and the undeniable pull of the moment.
And then it happened.
A loose ball ricocheted wildly. Ade sprinted, faster than Kai had ever seen him move, cutting across the pitch. A striker charged toward it from the opposite direction. They reached it almost simultaneously.
Ade flicked his foot just right.
The ball lifted. Smooth. Controlled. Perfectly over the striker's outstretched leg.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Kai's hood slipped back as he leaned forward unconsciously. His father's expression was calm, steady, like he'd done it a thousand times before.
The ball landed neatly at his teammate's feet, and the play surged onward.
Ethan's jaw dropped. "Did you see that?!"
Kai couldn't stop himself. The word slipped out before he could cage it.
"…Woah."