Kevin received the letter from KAA Gent on a crisp winter morning when he was ten years old. The official envelope seemed heavy in his hands as he opened it, revealing the words that would mark the beginning of a new chapter in his life. He had been offered a place in the club's youth academy, one of Belgium's most prestigious. Excitement, fear, and uncertainty swirled together in his mind. The opportunity promised structured training, professional coaching, and a pathway to a career he had only ever dreamed of. Yet it required leaving his home, family, and the familiar streets of Drongen for long stretches at a time.
The drive to Gent with his parents was quiet. His mother, Anna, held him close in the back seat, whispering words of encouragement, while his father, Herwig, spoke in practical tones about how hard work and focus would be the key to success. Kevin listened, nodding silently, feeling a mixture of apprehension and determination. He understood that the move would change everything in his young life.
Gent's academy was unlike anything he had known. The pitches were meticulously maintained, the lines crisp and white, and the grass evenly trimmed as if it had been combed by invisible hands. Coaches moved with purpose, their instructions precise, and the training sessions demanded full attention. Kevin was initially overwhelmed by the scale, the intensity, and the discipline required. At the dormitory, he encountered older boys, some of whom teased the newcomers and played pranks. Kevin kept to himself, unpacking slowly and placing his notebook carefully on the bedside table. That first night, he opened it and wrote one line: think quicker tomorrow. The words reflected a resolve he carried silently, a mantra for what lay ahead.
Training at Gent was physically and mentally exhausting. Mistakes were dissected with video analysis, drills were repeated with near-military precision, and the tempo was relentless. Kevin, however, embraced the challenge. He stayed behind after sessions, practicing alone under the fading light. He struck passes against walls, ran patterns across empty fields, and rehearsed scenarios in his mind. Every repetition was a lesson in precision, patience, and anticipation. By the end of the first year, his dedication was recognized, and he was promoted to a higher age group. Reports described him as a player with extraordinary spatial awareness, intelligence, and calmness under pressure, qualities far beyond his years.
Yet alongside his progress, loneliness persisted. He missed the Lys River in Drongen, the comforting scent of his mother's cooking, and the playful chatter of his siblings. On Fridays, before heading home, Kevin would pause by the fence overlooking the training pitch, silently promising himself to return stronger and more determined. In those moments of solitude, he learned resilience, a quality that would define his character and footballing career.
School was another challenge. Kevin had to adjust to new teachers, new routines, and the pressures of balancing academics with football. He was diligent, often completing assignments late into the evening after exhausting training sessions. His teachers noticed his quiet concentration and unusual focus, commenting that he seemed older than his years. Socially, he remained reserved, preferring a few close friends rather than large groups. Football was his language, his connection, and his comfort.
By the end of his first season, Kevin had begun to realize that talent alone was not enough. Success required discipline, mental toughness, and the ability to adapt. He learned to listen to his coaches, study opponents, and think several steps ahead on the pitch. The academy provided structure, but it also demanded sacrifices: time with family, social freedom, and even the simple pleasures of childhood. Kevin accepted these sacrifices quietly, understanding that they were necessary for the bigger goal.
Even in moments of homesickness, he found ways to stay connected to Drongen. At night, he would write in his notebook, recording drills, tactical insights, and personal reflections. He sketched diagrams of passes, runs, and positioning, effectively turning the pages into his own personal tactical manual. This habit of observation, documentation, and reflection would become a cornerstone of his footballing intelligence.
The move to Gent was more than a step up in football; it was a step into a world of independence, responsibility, and challenge. Kevin had left behind the small fields of Drongen, the comfort of familiar streets, and the protective cocoon of his family. In exchange, he gained structure, professional mentorship, and a testing ground that would shape both his mind and body. Every ball touched, every run completed, and every decision made was a brick in the foundation of the footballer he was becoming. The boy from Drongen was beginning to see the outline of the man he would become.