FOOTBALL! LEGENDARY PLAYER-Chapter 55: Top Of The Group

The final whistle against Anderlecht had barely cut through the chilly air when a roar erupted around the small pitch at De Toekomst. FC Utrecht's U17 players fell into jubilant embraces – they had done it, a dramatic last-gasp comeback victory. On the touchline, Coach Pronk punched the sky and Assistant Coach De Vries whooped in delight. It was only the first group match of the 2012 Aegon Future Cup, but it felt like a miracle for these boys.

Up in the makeshift commentary booth, the live stream announcers were equally stunned. "Incredible! What a comeback by Utrecht!" one shouted. "They've shocked Anderlecht in the dying seconds!" His co-commentator added, "The fans on the stream are going wild." Indeed, messages flooded the live chat:

"Unbelievable fight from the Dutch boys!"

"That Amani kid is special!"

"Never count Utrecht out!"

Amani stood near midfield amid the joyful chaos, chest heaving and heart pounding. Teammates clapped him on the back and shouted in triumph. He closed his eyes for an instant, letting the noises wash over him – the cheers from the few dozen spectators, the commentators' excited voices echoing – and savored the moment.

Ding!

A familiar subtle chime sounded in his mind. A translucent prompt flickered in his vision:

***

Missions Completed:

*Lead by Example:

Match Rating: 9.3 achieved

*Master Creator:

Goal-scoring Opportunities Created: 5 achieved

*Dominant Presence:

Passing Accuracy: 91% Duels Won: 80%

Rewards Unlocked:

Attribute Enhanced: Game Intelligence (+1)

Goal Contributions: 2 goals and 1 assist

***

Amani glanced at the notification and felt a swell of satisfaction. With his decisive passes in the comeback, he was already two-thirds to one of his tournament objectives. But there was no time to dwell on it.

"Alright, bring it in!" Coach Pronk called, and the players gathered around, still buzzing. Pronk's eyes shone with pride. "Fantastic job, men. You showed real heart out there." There were grins and a few whoops, but Pronk raised a hand for calm, checking his watch. "We have one hour until we're back out for the next match. One hour. Enjoy this win, but our work isn't done."

One hour. The words cut through the euphoria. Muscles that felt light with victory now reminded each player of fatigue. Assistant Coach De Vries wasted no time. "Cool down, everyone! Easy jog, keep moving," he ordered, guiding them into a slow trot along the touchline to keep their legs loose. The boys obeyed, still exchanging breathless laughter and congratulations as they jogged.

They soon headed off to the small locker tent to begin recovery. Inside, they toweled off sweat and passed around water and sports drinks. Amani sank onto a bench next to Malik, stretching out his aching legs. He could already feel the lactic acid in his calves – a dull burn that promised to intensify if he stopped moving entirely.

De Vries handed out energy bars and banana halves. "Eat, rehydrate," he instructed. "We need you fresh again, fast." As Amani gulped down water, Malik peeled a banana and, between big bites, asked eagerly, "Coach, do we know the score from the Barcelona-United game?"

Coach Pronk had been checking his phone for updates. He looked up. "Yes. Barcelona and Manchester United drew 2–2." A ripple of surprise and excitement passed through the boys. A draw meant Utrecht now sat alone atop Group B with 3 points. A few players cheered at the news, but Pronk quickly interjected. "Good start, but it means nothing yet. Stay focused. Two matches to go."

The mention of their next opponent brought a hush. "Barcelona," he said, the name alone heavy with meaning. The boys knew the reputation: La Masia, the fabled academy that produced some of the world's greatest players. Pronk's voice was firm. "Barcelona must win their next match to stay alive in this group. They'll throw everything at us. We have to be ready."

*****

GROUP B TABLE

1. FC Utrecht U17 | +1 | 3 Points |

2. FC Barcelona U17 | 0 | 1 Point |

3. Manchester United U17 | 0 | 1 Point |

4. R.S.C. Anderlecht U17 | -1 | 0 Points |

******

De Vries unrolled a small tactics board. "We'll stick with our usual shape, the 4-2-3-1," he explained, moving magnets into position. "But we'll rotate some of you to keep legs fresh." He gave Amani and Tijmen a nod. "You two will start on the bench this time to rest."

Amani felt a pang of disappointment. He had dreamed of starting against Barcelona's famed youth team. But as he met Coach Pronk's steady gaze, he understood. He and Tijmen had just expended enormous energy; the team would need them later. Amani clenched his jaw and nodded. "Yes, Coach." Beside him, Tijmen exhaled and gave a terse nod as well.

"Malik, you'll lead the line up front," Pronk continued. Malik straightened, eyes gleaming with determination. "Sofyan, anchor the midfield and take the armband," the coach said to Amrabat. "Dani will partner with you as the second defensive mid. Our back four stays the same."

A couple of fresh legs would fill in the attacking midfield and wing roles usually occupied by Malik and Tijmen. Pronk didn't belabor names; everyone knew their assignment. He began reviewing the game plan quickly. "Barcelona will line up in a 4-3-3 classic tiki-taka football. Quick passes, constant movement, high press. You saw what they're about in the scouting videos." Heads around the tent nodded. They all remembered the clips of Barca's youth pinging the ball around effortlessly.

"Our job is to stay compact and disciplined," Pronk went on. "Don't get pulled out of position. Force them wide and frustrate them. And when we win the ball, break fast into the space they leave behind. Manchester United showed they can be scored on – they conceded twice. So when chances come, we must take them."

Amani listened intently. Despite not starting, he was locked into every word. His disappointment had transformed into steely resolve – if and when he got on the pitch, he would make it count.

Pronk clapped his hands. "Alright. Get changed into fresh kits and be ready to go in a few minutes."

After a quick swap into clean jerseys of the same orange and black colours and a final round of stretches, the team emerged back onto the pitch. The late afternoon sun bathed the field in a gentle light. Across the center line, the Barcelona U17 players were finishing their own warm-up drills. Clad in the iconic blue and burgundy jerseys, they looked sharp and confident as they zipped passes to one another in tidy triangles.

The crowd around the field had grown a little. Word of Utrecht's earlier heroics – and the prospect of them facing Barcelona – had drawn more spectators, including a few more scouts with notepads and even some rival team players watching on their break. A murmur of anticipation ran through the onlookers.

Amani took his place on the bench next to Tijmen and a couple of other substitutes. From here, he had an up-close view of the action. He bounced his legs lightly, keeping warm. On the field, Malik and the rest of the starting eleven assumed their positions. Malik caught Amani's eye and gave a quick nod and a grin as he moved to the Centre Forward position – a silent promise to give it his all.

The referee checked his watch. With a sharp trill of the whistle, the match against FC Barcelona U17 began.

Barcelona immediately asserted their trademark style. From the kick-off, they knocked the ball around with confident, one-touch passes. Their center-backs split wide, their midfielders dropped deep to receive, and within seconds, Utrecht's forwards were chasing shadows. Amani watched intently as the Spanish side effortlessly worked the ball to the flanks. The speed and precision of their passing was impressive – every touch crisp, every player offering an angle for the next pass.

Utrecht fell into a compact defensive shape, just as instructed. Malik pressed the ball when he could, and the midfield two of Amrabat and Dani stayed close in front of their back four to block the central channels. For the first several minutes, Utrecht barely touched the ball. Barcelona probed patiently, searching for any opening. The Utrecht players stayed disciplined, shuffling side to side as a unit to keep their shape intact.

Despite the dominance of possession, Barcelona initially struggled to penetrate the final third. Utrecht's defense was resolute, clearing a few early crosses and intercepting through-ball attempts. Every so often, a misstep in the Barca passing would allow Utrecht a moment's relief. In the 10th minute, one such moment came: a Barcelona midfielder under hit a pass thanks to pressure from Dani, and Van der Heyden who was filling in as the attacking midfielder, poked the loose ball forward.

Malik sprang onto it and raced past the halfway line, suddenly leading a counterattack. A surge of excitement rippled through the Utrecht bench and the crowd. Malik pushed the ball ahead into space behind the Barca defense, using his pace. But just as he entered the penalty area, a Barcelona defender's desperate slide nudged the ball away, and their goalkeeper pounced on it. It was a half-chance, gone in a flash.

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The near-breakthrough lifted Utrecht's spirits, but it also served as a wake-up call for Barcelona. The Spanish youngsters tightened up even more, their passing becoming even quicker. Utrecht found themselves pinned deep again, forced to clear their lines repeatedly.

As the minutes ticked by, Barcelona's pressure mounted. Around the 20-minute mark, their right winger – a stocky, explosive player named Adama Traoré – started causing real problems. On one occasion, Adama sped down the flank and beat Utrecht's left-back with a burst of sheer speed, then cut a low cross into the box. A Barca forward met it with a clever flick of his heel. Amani's breath caught as the ball skipped past the scrambling defense and goalkeeper... and trickled just wide of the far post. Gasps rose from the spectators. That was close.

Utrecht was living on the edge, but they were holding on. Their goalkeeper made a solid save on a long-range shot, and the backline threw themselves in front of a couple more dangerous balls into the area. Every clearance was met with encouragement from the bench and the few fans rooting for the underdogs.

When the referee blew for halftime, the score was still 0-0. The Utrecht boys jogged off with weary limbs, but their heads were high. They had weathered the first storm. On the sideline, Coach Pronk gathered the team quickly. There was no time (or need) for a full locker room retreat; he gave his instructions right there as the players grabbed water.

"Well done keeping your shape," Pronk said, voice low and steady. "They haven't broken us yet. Stay alert." The boys nodded, sucking in deep breaths. Most of them were drenched in sweat after that half of relentless defending.

"Listen," Assistant Coach De Vries added, "when you get the ball, try to keep it a bit more. Don't panic and immediately give it back. Take a moment and find a simple pass. We need to relieve the pressure when we can."

Amani stood a little apart, juggling a ball lightly to stay warm, listening to every word. He could see some of the starters bent over, hands on knees, as they recovered. They had fought bravely, but fatigue was creeping in. Coach Pronk glanced over at Amani and Tijmen, clearly weighing the right time to introduce his fresh reinforcements. After a moment, he decided to hold off a little longer. "No changes yet," he announced. "Stick to the plan and keep frustrating them. Amani, Tijmen – stay loose. Be ready."

Heart thumping with anticipation, Amani nodded and exchanged a quick look with Tijmen. Their time was coming; he could feel it. He rolled his shoulders and jogged in place. The prospect of entering against a tiring Barcelona defense sent a spark of excitement through him.

The brief team talk ended. The players took their positions for the second half. As the whistle blew to resume play, Amani sat on the very edge of the bench, leaning forward, every sense trained on the field. His moment to make a difference was drawing nearer with each passing minute, and he was determined to seize it when it arrived.

***

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