"Not as easy as it looks on the telly, is it, son?" Frankie said quietly, without taking his eyes off the pitch.
"They wouldn't listen," I mumbled, the excuse sounding feeble even to my own ears. "They've got no focus. No discipline."
"They're tired, Danny," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
"They've just come off a ten-hour shift on a building site or in the back of a van. They're not professional footballers. They're here for a kickabout with their mates, a bit of a laugh. You came in here with your cones and your diagrams, talking about 'overloads' and 'defensive blocks'. You were speaking a different language."
He was right. I had approached this like a Football Manager save. I had seen the players as a collection of attributes to be optimized, a set of problems to be solved. I hadn't seen them as people. My Player Management stat of 6 was looking more and more accurate.
"You've got the knowledge, son," Frankie continued, taking a drag from a fresh roll-up. "I could see that from your notes. You see things I don't. But knowledge ain't enough. Not at this level. You've got to win them over first. You've got to earn their respect. And you don't earn it with fancy drills. You earn it by showing them you give a damn."
His words hit me harder than any tackle. He had diagnosed my failure more accurately than the system ever could. I had the tactical knowledge, but I had none of the human touch. I had the 'what', but not the 'how'.
The rest of the session passed in a blur of misery. I just stood on the sideline, a silent, useless cone. As the players packed up to leave, they avoided my gaze. I was an irrelevance. A joke.
As I was packing up my now-hated cones, my bag feeling heavy with the weight of my failure, a notification pinged in my mind. I almost ignored it, but it was persistent.
[SYSTEM] You have failed a task: 'Conduct a successful training session'.
Great. Just what I needed. The system rubbing salt in the wound.
[SYSTEM] Failure is the mother of success. You have gained valuable experience in the complexities of man-management.
[SYSTEM] 40 XP gained for 'Learning from Failure'.
I stopped, my hands full of cones. 40 XP. The system was rewarding me for failing? I checked my profile. XP: 100/100. I had reached the threshold.
And then, the world changed again.
[SYSTEM] LEVEL UP! You have reached Level 2!
[SYSTEM] Congratulations, Gaffer Walsh! Your journey continues.
[SYSTEM] REWARDS:
> - 3 Skill Points have been awarded.
> - New Feature Unlocked: Skill Tree.
> - New Feature Unlocked: Basic Training Programs.
My jaw went slack. A wave of light and sound, perceptible only to me, washed over my senses. It felt like my brain was being rebooted, upgraded. The humiliation of the past hour was forgotten, replaced by a surge of pure, unadulterated excitement.
I fumbled for the notebook, my hands trembling again, but this time with anticipation. I opened it. A new menu option had appeared: Skill Tree.
I focused on it, and the page transformed into a complex, branching diagram, like a family tree of footballing philosophy.
There were five main branches: Tactical Mastery, Player Development, Scouting Network, Match Management, and Club Leadership. Each branch was filled with greyed-out skills, waiting to be unlocked.
I had three points to spend. Three precious points. My eyes scanned the options. 'Basic Formations'. 'Enhanced Player Vision'. 'Man-Management Basics'. All of them were tempting. But my failure tonight had taught me a valuable lesson.
I could have all the tactical knowledge in the world, but if the players weren't fit enough or skilled enough to execute my plans, it was useless. I had to start at the beginning. I had to build the foundation.
I focused on the 'Player Development' branch. The first skill on the tree was called 'Basic Training Programs'. The description read: 'Unlocks the ability to create and assign simple training schedules focusing on core attributes. Provides a minor boost to player improvement in coached sessions.'
It was perfect. It was the tool I had been missing. It wasn't just about the drills I designed; it was about the system amplifying their effect. I focused my intent on the skill.
[SYSTEM] Spend 1 Skill Point to unlock 'Basic Training Programs'?
'Yes.'
The skill lit up, turning from grey to a vibrant white. A wave of information flooded my mind—new ideas, new methods, a deeper understanding of how to structure a session not just for tactical learning, but for physical and technical improvement.
I had two points left. I knew I had to address my other great failing of the night: my inability to connect with the players. I navigated to the 'Club Leadership' branch.
The first skill was 'Man-Management Basics'. Description: 'Unlocks basic social interactions and dialogue options to improve player morale and relationships. Provides insight into player personalities.'
[SYSTEM] Spend 1 Skill Point to unlock 'Man-Management Basics'?
'Yes.'
Another surge of knowledge. This was different. It wasn't about drills or tactics. It was about people. It was a subtle, intuitive understanding of praise and criticism, of when to put an arm around a player's shoulder and when to give them a kick up the backside. It was the art of leadership, downloaded directly into my brain.
I had one point left. I was tempted to spend it on a tactical skill, something to satisfy my inner Football Manager nerd. But tonight had been a lesson in pragmatism.
I went back to the 'Player Development' branch and unlocked the next skill in the tree: 'Fitness Coaching'. Description: 'Improves the effectiveness of all fitness-related training. Unlocks specific stamina and strength training drills.'
My three points were spent. I had no new fancy formations, no secret tactical weapons. I had invested in the absolute basics. Fitness. Training. Man-management. It was the most unglamorous, sensible decision I had ever made. And it felt right.
I closed the notebook, a new sense of determination hardening within me. Tonight had been a disaster. I had been humiliated. But I had learned. I had leveled up. And I had the tools to do better.
Frankie was waiting for me by the gate. He looked at my face, and a flicker of surprise crossed his own. The pathetic, defeated look I'd been wearing all evening was gone. In its place was a cold, hard resolve.
"Still want the job, son?" he asked, a hint of a challenge in his voice.
I met his gaze, my eyes clear and focused. "I'll be here next Tuesday, gaffer," I said. "And next week, it will be different."
He stared at me for a moment longer, then gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. "We'll see, son. We'll see."
As I walked home through the dark, empty streets, I wasn't thinking about my failure. I was planning.
My mind was already buzzing with new ideas, new drills, and new ways to use the skills I had just unlocked. The first training session had been a disaster. But it had also been a success. I had lost the battle, but I had just been given the weapons to win the war.