The bus ride to Arlesey city, home of Arlesey Athletic F.C. Westminster F.C. This game is an important one for the Westminster youths to win, as it puts them in greater stakes. Their victory would secure them the second position in the table. Even though the season is still in its early stages, being at the top of the league will boost the youth's morale.
Dynasty League: Under twenty-one league
1. Bush Hill Rangers F.C. - 9 Points
2. F.C. Cerceda - 7 Points
3. Westminster F.C. - 6 Points
4. Arlesey Athletic F.C. - 5 Points
5. Fair Oak F.C. - 3 Points
6. Western Park F.C. - 3 Points
7. West Hampstead F.C. - 3 Points
8. Giants Hawks F.C. - 0 Points
9. Hartford United. - 0 Points
He looked through the Dynasty League pamphlet that the head coach had given him earlier during their debriefing. Leaning against the window, he still had trouble falling asleep. His gaze wandered over the tall and wide bus windows; the brightness of the full moon triggered him to yawn. He seriously needed this sleep. He searched his pockets, retrieved a sleeping pill he'd taken from the medicine cabinet that morning before entering the training grounds. Winston wondered what skill he should focus on; while stretching his hands, a rush of dizziness and heavy eyelids rushed him like violet waves. Before he realized it, he was knocked out flat.
Woken up by a violent shake, he flinched, disoriented—he glanced and saw it was Oswin with a smirk on his face. "Bro, you sleep like a log; we were trying to wake you up. For a while now," he said, stretching himself. "C'mon everyone is waiting for us outside."
He cleaned the drooling that was hanging on the corner of his mouth, feeling like his been asleep for days—stretching himself. One thing for sure, Winston has never felt this good, this rejuvenated; he never paid much attention to his exhausted body. Dragging himself out of the bus, the sultry morning sun blinded him. "Okay, huddle up, listen — we separated all of you into two groups," the head coach said, handing out room keys. The coach scattered the room keys on the box. A staff member distributed the keys to the youths, the keys were labeled with numbers; if two youths have the same number, that means they were roommates.
When it was Winston's turn, only two keys remained, and he and Oswin were the last two people left. Daping each other, "that what's up, we are roommates."
"Since everyone is all set, get some rest for now—tomorrow around six am, report here," the head coach continued, "And no staying out late." He glanced at Winston, who stretched the back of his head with an awkward smirk.
As the youths and club personnel made their way to the hotel, the strike coach went the other way toward the entrance of the buses. Passing Winston, he called out. "Maximilian lets go, time for more training. No need to waste with scenery," said a raspy, rugged voice, looking up and down at Winston. When he passed by Winston, a potent scent of tobacco and caffeine tinkle Winston's nostrils.
"Ayo, Winston, c'mon, bro, let's check our room."
Winston turned to look and only saw the shadows disappear around the bend. The desire to practice also increased significantly. He also wanted to ditch the scenery and head over to the grounds. Shaking his head. He looked over at his friend Owsin, who was holding the large glass door of the hotel. "Maybe after I am done unpacking," he murmured to himself and dragged his suitcase.
"Man, I heard this hotel has a jacuzzi and a sauna. What do you think we should try first?" Oswin said, flipping the hotel brochure. "It also has an enormous swimming pool; I hope some babes are there too," he said with a lustful smirk plastered on his face. Winston shook his head, as if to say, "Classic Oswin."
"I'm just gonna head downstairs on the ground for some couple of training drills." He added, "I want to use this free time to practice brush-up on some skills." Oswin, who was already on his boxes and towel on his shoulders, glanced at Winston. You and your workaholic tendencies are inseparable. Don't go too far now—we don't want our trump card sleeping in the hospital again."
Sitting on his bed, Winston opened the core system; to be honest, training on his own without a mentor to tell him where to improve and how to. It all good and fun to use the system to upgrade, but without guidance, all he does is upgrade his stats without mastering them. For example, the dead ball he recently acquired was just that acquired skill; he still couldn't figure out how to use it affectively. What he learned from the striker coach the previous day when he was training Maximilian was just form stance, and even then he struggled. Annoyed by all of this, he grabbed his gym bag and headed downstairs to a nearby training ground.
Shwoosshhh
Winston Daley Stats
Nether Essence: 56%
Voltage Core: 56%
Name: Daley Winston
Birthdate: 25-11-04
Age: 19
Weak Foot: 2
Height: 176cm (5'9)
Foot: Right
Profession: Footballer
Team: Westminster F.C. (Under twenty-one team)
Player Rating: 81
Position: Center forward.
Potential: 87
Acceleration
Sprint Speed
Shooting
Passing
Dribbling
Physical
Reward Points: 00
Acquired Skills
Skills moves:
[Shooting]
Shooting: 70
Att. Position: 67
Finishing: 57
Shot Power: 66
Long Shots: 67
Volleys: 36
Penalties: 44
Winston reviewed his statistics for a period before deciding to continue with his upgraded option. Maybe this time he will try to boost them to seventy or higher. He spent a couple of hours alternating between taking penalty kicks and running with the ball for twenty to forty yards. He periodically checked his stats, and nothing was moving. The same stats were still looking at him too.
From the training ground balcony, a distant observer was intently watching Winston as he trained, his eyes fixed on him despite the many other people present, some playing and others training. "I never thought I would see you come this far, Dad."
"Yeah, the day was too beautiful, and besides I needed to stretch my legs," he continued; "Shouldn't you be at work?"
"It's my break," she said, stretching her body.
"I thought you said your break is usually around noon."
"So you were listening." She added. "One of my co-workers asked me to stand in for her shift, since she will be late."
"Do you know that kid over there?" he said, gesturing at the lone youth who was kicking the ball.
Squinting her eyes while covering her forehead with her hand. "I don't know." She added, "Maybe he is one of those groups of footballers who arrived here earlier. I believe there will be a game in the coming days." She asked, "Should I call him over?"
"No, I was just wondering," as he turned his back, leaving. The girl watched his father striding toward the exit, and she also glanced over at Winston, who was sprinting up the steep stairs toward her direction. When he arrived, he scanned the entire area, hoping to see that figure again. Until he cleared his throat.
Excuse me, madam, do you know where the gentleman who was in this spot went?"
"He left." Leaning on the steel balcony, she shifted her body to face Winston. "Do you know him?"
"No, he looked familiar; he looked like Dumi Crowe, the legendary football striker,"
"Is he your hero?" she said, with a curious voice now fully facing Winston; her interest had peaked.
"Yes, after my father—he is the second person I look up to, he is the one who inspired me to choose to play the striker position."
"It must be that important for you to meet him."
"It is."
"Listen, the day after tomorrow around noon, meet me here."
"Okay," Winston responded, his gaze following the captivating young woman as she walked away, a vision of delicate, unblemished skin and a figure that mimicked an hourglass, all while sporting a hotel uniform with an exceptionally short skirt.