The big three.
Coach claps once. “Alright. Enough standing around. Let’s start pre-activation then see what the kid’s got.”
From the first whistle,the pitch comes alive. Shouts, cleats tearing at turf, the sound of the ball cutting through the air.
I like it, but they’re not ready for me.
Coach splits us into sides, and I’m barely two touches in before I remind everyone why I’m here. The ball lands at my feet, and instinct takes over.
One touch to control, one to spin past the defender, third to slice through midfield. I fake right, drag left, and fire low past the keeper.
Back of the net.
Moore,the same loudmouth from earlier, jogs up beside me. “Alright, Titan. You got a little skill.”
I grin at my nickname. It all makes sense now. He’s a fan.
“A little? That’s modest of you.”
“Modest? You know that word?”
The next play, they tighten up. Now, they’re double-marking me, trying to shut down every angle.Cute. I pivot, chip theball between two defenders, and it finds our winger perfectly in stride.
Another goal.
“Is this supposed to be a challenge?”
Instead of groans of irritation like my last team, they all laugh.
Huh.
Now they’re watching me differently. Not with curiosity but with respect. And maybe a bit of fear.
Coach O’Shea blows his whistle. “Good. Good movement. Keep the ball moving. And someone stay on McKingsley.”
It’s flattering.
But the truth is, I’m showing off. I want them to know exactly who just joined their team, ‘cause I didn’t come here to blend in. I came to save them from failing out of the league.
In Gombe, I was the top scorer, untouchable, the ‘Titan’.
Here?I’m starting from scratch.
These boys are sharper, quicker, trained on precision instead of flair. But flair’s all I’ve ever needed. Flair got me here.
Coach pauses the scrimmage again.
“McKingsley,” he calls out, “you’ve got control, but remember this ain’t street football. We play team ball here.”
I nod, sucking in air, wiping sweat from my neck. “Got it, Coach.”
Moore jogs past, shoulder-checking me lightly. “You sure this isn’t all luck, Africa?”
He’s quite a short thing.
Or maybe he’s of normal height? I don’t know, everyone under six feet looks the same to me.
I laugh, not breaking stride. “I could do it again if you want.”
