The referee finally blew the whistle.
Lein sat on the bench. Mud on his boots even though he hadn't played. Just from warming up on the touchline for ten minutes in the second half before the coach decided he didn't need him after all.
The players walked off. Harrison was near the center circle, hands on his hips, breathing hard. He'd played the whole match. Started up front. Almost scored twice.
Harrison had curly brown hair with soft blue eyes that never seemed to want to settle on one place. He was slightly taller than Lein just by a few inches—not much but was enough for him to be able to laugh at Lein. He had a v shaped body. Fit and trained.
Lein simply watched him walk of towards the changing room, the familiar tightness settling in his chest
Coach Hendricks clapped his hands. "Changing room. Now."
Lein stood up. His legs weren't tired. That was the problem.
The changing room was quiet. Players sat on benches pulling off their kits. Some threw them in the laundry bin. Others just sat there staring at the floor.
Lein went to his spot in the corner and started unlacing his boots. They were barely dirty.
Harrison sat down next to him. His shirt was drenched. Grass stains on his knees. "Shit match," he said.
"Yeah."
"You'll start next week probably."
Lein didn't answer. Harrison said that every week and even though he tried to believe him, he just couldn't.
Harrison turned to look at another at his side, hands dapping the guy, all teeth and smiles. Lein simply said nothing.
Coach Hendricks stood at the front. He looked tired. "Right. That wasn't good enough."
Nobody said anything.
"Three chances in the first half and we put them all wide. Their first goal was poor defending. Really poor. We're better than this."
His eyes traced through the room, glancing over every single on of them, his eyes landed on Lein for a brief moment before it was pulled as though it didn't even matter, gaze now locked on to Harrison. His eyes passed him stretching towards the others.
"Next week more intense training. I don't want to here any whining or pleading."
"Shower up. Bus leaves in fifteen."
That was it.
The bus ride back was quiet. Lein sat near the back with his headphones in. No music. Just the engine noise and occasional voices from the front.
Harrison sat with Marcus and Tommy a few rows up. They were talking about something. Laughing. Harrison looked over his shoulder once like he was going to call Lein up to sit with them but then didn't.
Outside in the streets, rain splattered rapidly unto the bus and pavements, wetting the ground.
His phone buzzed.
Mum: How did it go?
Lein stared at the message. He typed Fine then deleted it. Typed We lost then deleted that too.
He locked his phone and put it back in his pocket.
He was tired of answering her questions, especially when he always lied.
The bus pulled into the training ground car park around five. Most of the players got picked up by parents. Harrison's dad was waiting by a silver Audi.
Lein slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking. His mum was at work. Night shift at the hospital. She worked most Saturdays.
The walk home was long and uneventful except for the occasional barks of dogs which remained outside in the rain. The black jacket was pulled tight to his frame, shielding him from the rain as occasionally a car speeding through the road splattered water unto his legs. He said nothing about it.
When he got home the house was dark. No car in the driveway.
He unlocked the door and went inside. Didn't turn on the lights. Just dropped his bag by the stairs and went up to his room.
His room was small. Bed on one side. Desk on the other. Old posters on the walls from when he was younger. Messi. Ronaldo. A shelf with trophies from when he was twelve or thirteen.
His laptop sat atop his desk, some few trophies at its side he remembered winning when he was a child. Maybe 13?. It doesn't matter.
He sat on his bed and pulled out his phone.
Instagram was open. The first post was from Jake Matthews. A picture of him signing a contract. Professional contract at a League One club. 800 likes. Everyone in the comments congratulating him.
Lein scrolled.
Another post. Danny Ward scored two goals for Doncaster's reserves.
Another. Some kid from a big academy training with the first team.
The tightness came back, swallowing at his senses. He felt a strange sense of anger, fire spreading from his legs upward, his stomach gnawing at him, as if questioning him as to how he could remain as he was.
He locked his phone and threw it on the bed.
Stood up. Looked at himself in the mirror on the closet door.
Brown hair. Brown eyes. Average height. Nothing special and a slightly muscular body which was completely ordinary
He turned away and lay down on the bed.
His mum would be home around midnight. She'd probably check on him. Ask about the match. He'd pretend to be asleep or maybe tell her the truth.
He didn't know which one to choose. Did it even matter? After all he was always going to be mediocre after all. He just was not born with the talent.
He closed his eyes.
He thought about quitting. Not for the first time. What if he just stopped playing football? Got a normal job. Went to college. Did what the average normal person did.
But even thinking about it made his chest tight.
Because if he quit then what was he? Who was he? Just another kid who wasn't good enough.
Just another person rolling through life without living a mark or even a stain. Then what was the difference between this person and dog shit? What? Humanity? Who decided what that even meant? Who?
He pulled the blanket over himself. Still in his clothes and sleep came eventually.
And then suddenly he was not in his room anymore.
Lein sat up, grass under his hands and feet. Real grass!
He looked around.
A football pitch. White lines. Short grass. But it didn't end. Just kept going in every direction. The sky was grey and purple like twilight. Never getting darker. Never getting lighter.
Stadium lights floated in the distance. No stadium under them. Just lights hanging in nothing.
Complete silence. There was no wind. No birds. No sound at all.
Lein's heartbeat increased. He instantly scrambled to touch himself trying to tell himself this is a dream.
He stood up slowly.
"Hello?"
His voice sounded wrong. Flat. Like it didn't travel anywhere.
There was a ball in the center circle.
Lein walked toward it. His legs felt heavy. Like walking through water.
He reached the ball and stopped.
Then a voice spoke. Not out loud. Inside his head.
"Do you want to be extraordinary?"
Lein spun around. Nobody there.
"Who's there?"
"Answer the question. Do you want to be extraordinary?"
"What—how do you know my name?"
"I know what you are. Mediocre. Forgettable. In six months you will be released. Your career will end before it begins."
What the hell? Who?
"Hey who is there!" His voice was louder now
"This isn't real."
"Does that matter?"
Lein stared at the ball. At the endless pitch.
"What is this?"
"A chance. The only one you will ever get. Train here every night. Improve faster than you thought possible. But only if you are honest. Only if you work. Slack off once and I leave. You will return to being nothing."
Lein jaw clenched. He stood there wondering if this was a dream. It should be right? Ot couldn't be real? But something deep in him seemed to want it. To need it! He finally spoke, swallowing saliva
"What do I do?"
"Say yes."
Lein looked at the ball. At the floating lights. At the impossible sky.
"Yes."