The sky above Lagos shimmered in a dull gold haze that morning — one of those humid days when the air itself felt like it was holding its breath. I barely touched my breakfast. My spoon just kept circling the edge of the plate like it was chasing time.
Today wasn't a normal match.
It was the match.
The first internal academy fixture since the "Cut Week." Word had spread fast: scouts were in attendance. Not just academy staff — real scouts. Men with clipboards, sunglasses, and the kind of gaze that could make or break futures.
I tied my boots tighter than usual. The synthetic turf smell was sharp, the white lines glowing under the sun. Around me, the Lagos National Youth Academy hummed with focus — coaches shouting instructions, players stretching, the buzz of a crowd made up of parents, youth team supporters, and a few journalists perched near the tunnel.
"Joseph!" my roommate, Sodiq, clapped me on the back. "You ready, star boy?"
I smiled faintly. "Always."
He laughed. "Na so you talk before Cut Week. Don't go faint o."
I chuckled, but my chest was a furnace. My hands tingled as I stepped toward the tunnel where Coach Ibrahim was already waiting. His whistle gleamed in the sunlight. He met my eyes briefly — no smile, no nod, just that knowing look that said 'prove me right.'
---
We lined up on the edge of the pitch. Blue jerseys versus Red.
The air was alive — drone cameras hovering, fans murmuring, someone's vuvuzela blasting a single off-key note before being hushed by staff.
I scanned the small VIP section. Men in suits. Clipboards. Sunglasses. My pulse jumped.
I didn't see Arsenal scouts, but that didn't matter. Every scout was a doorway — and I was tired of looking through windows.
The whistle blew. The match began.
---
First Half
I didn't start.
When Coach announced the lineup and my name wasn't there, something inside me twisted. I tried not to show it — I told myself benching doesn't mean forgotten. But watching from the sideline, hearing boots pound and the crowd gasp, it hurt.
The System shimmered faintly before my eyes — invisible to everyone else.
> [System Notice]
"Patience is part of greatness."
I took a deep breath. Patience. Right.
Still, when the Red team scored first — a deflected shot that rolled just beyond our keeper's gloves — I felt that sting of helplessness. I gripped my shin guards so tight my nails bit into my palms.
"Warm up, Joseph," Coach Ibrahim finally said midway through the first half.
My heart almost leapt out of my chest. "Yes, coach!"
I jogged down the sideline, every muscle tight with energy. The moment I stood, a ripple of chatter spread through the stands.
"Na that boy from Benin?"
"Dem say him sabi ball pass e age."
"Make we see am today!"
---
Second Half
"Joseph, in for Chike," Coach barked. "Play as central attacking mid. I want creativity. Don't force. Flow."
"Got it."
I jogged onto the field. The crowd roared lightly — not massive, but enough to send a shiver down my spine. The grass under my boots felt like the edge of destiny.
"Let's go, number ten!" someone shouted from the bleachers.
As play resumed, I felt the rhythm of the game seep into my blood. Pass, move, check space.
The Red team pressed high. Their defenders were big, quick, and loud — calling out every mark.
First touch, pass. Another.
A loose ball came to me; I trapped it neatly, turned away from one midfielder, and slipped a diagonal pass between two defenders.
Gasps.
"Nice one!" Sodiq shouted from the wing.
The pass cut through the line cleanly, though our striker miscontrolled it. Still — the crowd noticed. The scouts looked up. My veins hummed.
> [System Pulse Active]
Passing Accuracy +2 (temporary boost)
I didn't even smile. Focus. The ball found me again moments later — and this time, I held it longer. One opponent rushed in; I flicked it past him with a feint, pivoted, and switched play left.
That movement — clean, simple, confident — was all I needed.
I wasn't here to show off.
I was here to belong.
---
By the 70th minute, the score was still 1–0. The Red team was getting cocky, slowing play, wasting seconds. I could see their captain smirking. I clenched my jaw.
"Push higher!" I yelled to my teammates. "We can break them!"
Coach Ibrahim's voice cut through the field: "Oyas, lead the press!"
And I did.
We pushed forward. I intercepted a lazy back pass, tapping it to Sodiq. He rushed down the flank, crossed early — too high, but their clearance fell back toward me. Instinct. I volleyed it low to our striker. One touch, bang — goal.
1–1.
The crowd erupted.
Cheers, drums, the smell of dust and adrenaline rising all around me. My teammates mobbed me — slaps on the head, shouts of "You sabi!"
For a second, the world was color and sound.
But the game wasn't over.
---
Final Minutes
Coach signaled from the sideline: one last attack.
I nodded. My lungs burned. Sweat dripped into my eyes. The System flickered again:
> "Composure: Holding steady. Vision Boost: Active (Duration 3 mins)."
We reset. One minute into stoppage time — I received a pass near the halfway line. A defender lunged. I sidestepped, let him commit, then slipped between two players with a burst of pace. The field opened like a wave pulling back from the shore.
Crowd shouting. Whistles. Chaos.
I didn't hear any of it.
Sodiq sprinted ahead on the right. I feinted left — everyone bit.
Then, with the lightest touch, I curved a through ball between the lines. It spun perfectly into Sodiq's path.
He didn't even need to break stride. One touch, and the ball kissed the net.
2–1.
The academy field exploded.
Coaches on their feet.
Scouts standing.
Fans chanting my name: "JO-SEPH! JO-SEPH!"
I just stood there, hands on my knees, heart pounding like a war drum.
I didn't smile, didn't shout — I just let it sink in. That sound, that moment… it was everything I'd dreamed about.
> [SYSTEM UPDATE]
Objective Progress: (1/3) — "Impress in an Academy Match" ✅
Reward: +3 Vision, +2 Passing Accuracy
Bonus: Temporary Trait – "Game Composer (Active for 48 hrs)"
"Observation: The crowd sees talent. You are beginning to see greatness."
The final whistle blew.
---
We won. 2–1.
As we walked off the pitch, I caught Coach Ibrahim's eye again. This time, there was a hint of a smile — rare, brief, but real.
"Good job, Oyas," he said, voice calm. "Keep your head. This is only step one."
"Yes, Coach," I breathed.
I turned toward the stands, where scouts were already closing notebooks, nodding among themselves. My legs were shaking, but inside — there was this fire that wouldn't go out.
The Lagos sky had turned amber. The sun was setting behind the training complex, casting long shadows across the pitch. I wiped sweat from my forehead and whispered to myself:
"Step one complete."
The System chimed softly — almost like it was proud.
> "Acknowledged, Joseph Oyas. You are one step closer to the Trials."
---
⚙️ [SYSTEM UPDATE – PLAYER PROFILE]
Name: Joseph Oyas
Position: Attacking Midfielder (CAM)
Affiliation: Lagos National Youth Academy
Speed: 69 (+1)
Stamina: 73 (+1)
Passing Accuracy: 76 (+2)
Vision: 76 (+3)
Composure: 72 (+1)
Trait (Temporary): Game Composer – Enhanced decision-making under match stress (Active: 48 hrs)
> "Progress Saved."
"Next Objective: (2/3) — Earn direct praise from a national scout."