THE GREATEST OF ALL TIME

The NF academy officials followed the progress of the game closely from the technical area. They were—confined to a marked section close to the touchline, where only substitutes and officials sat during matches.

The academy had sent three coaches, one medic, and an administrative assistant to Riga. They all had specialized roles to fulfill on the team.

Bjørn Peters was the coach responsible for the physical fitness of the players. He also secretly doubled as a scout to spy on the tactics of the other participants.

He had immediately noticed when the Riga team sealed off ways to pass to Zachary by saddling him with two marking players. Although the action had left their wings short of one attacking player, it looked like a fair tradeoff for them—since it was tiring out Zachary faster than usual.

"Don't you think we should tell Zachary to relax a bit?" He suggested, turning to look at Coach Johansen. "We should not give the other teams a chance to target him before we qualify for the knockout stages. I'm also worried about his stamina since we are playing the day after tomorrow as well."

Coach Johansen kept his sight fixed on the game, which had just restarted, half-smiling. "Do you really believe we can hide him after this match? Just let him be." He shook his head as if he just remembered something. "You know; I checked his agility training results after the Christmas holiday. His improvement is beyond my expectations."

"His running speed has improved once again?" Coach Bjørn asked, without bothering to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yes. And by quite the margin. His fifty-meter dash now constantly falls between 6 and 7 seconds. If he continues improving at this rate, we could have one of the fastest players in the league before next year." Coach Johansen paused, returning his attention to the game.

NF academy had just won the ball back and was counterattacking again. It seemed like conceding two goals had sealed JFC Riga's fate.

Magnus received the ball in the midfield and passed it to Öyvind Alseth, NF academy's wingback. Öyvind controlled it like an expert and advanced through the right-wing, bolting towards the centerline. One of the Riga academy wingbacks ran to intercept him; however, he quickly passed the ball to Magnus—running in sync with him through the midfield.

Magnus received the ball and kicked it to the left-wing where Paul Otterson was lurking. The quick switch from the right to the left side of the pitch left the Riga players disoriented for a few seconds. They didn't react until Paul Otterson had run with the ball for a few yards, spearing deep into the Riga half.

One of the midfielders, marking Zachary, left his side to intercept the winger. Only one player remained close to him. Zachary abruptly increased his pace and ran past the player, heading towards Riga's eighteen-yard box.

Coach Johannsen's only hope was for Paul Otterson to release a well-timed pass that would beat the Riga players and release Zachary into the box.

The Swedish kid did not disappoint. He expertly flipped the ball past his mark into Zachary's path.

Zachary received the ball at the left edge of the box, close to the goal line. He didn't pause to control it. He spun around with the ball hooked to his left foot, shaking-off the defender that had been chasing after him.

He created a couple of yards of space for himself. Only a defender stood between him and the goal. He advanced into the box, doing body feints like a boxer rather than a soccer player. He didn't put any art in his footwork—whatsoever. The Riga defenders and goalkeeper began boogying along with his feints, moving from side to side, like they were doing some kind—of ritualistic dance.

Coach Johansen wondered why the Riga defenders didn't just close down on him instead of making fools out of themselves. The ball was stationary at Zachary's feet, but they wouldn't attack it.

Zachary flicked the ball to his right, ran forward, and made a pass back to Paul Otterson, who was unmarked.

The winger let loose a right-footed shot towards the top right corner of the net from the edge of the box.

Riga's goalkeeper was helpless.

3:0.

The NF Academy had managed to score their 3rd goal in the 44th minute of the gameplay.

Coach Johannsen didn't bother to celebrate. He was already sure his team would win easily against Riga despite their lack of experience. He was only worried about the oncoming matches.

"Did you manage to scout the players of the other teams? Is there anyone we need to worry about in particular?" He asked his assistant.

"I did," Coach Bjørn replied, smiling. "The other teams look quite strong taken as a whole. However, most lack remarkable players who perform above their levels, like Zachary. The only exception is VfB Stuttgart. They have two prodigies." The assistant coach flipped open his notebook.

"The first is a striker called Timo Werner, while the other is a defensive midfielder called Joshua Kimmich." Coach Bjørn continued perusing through his notebook. "One of my friends from Germany told me those two boys have already participated in several European competitions and performed like stars. There's a chance they'll join senior teams even before they hit 18 years of age."

"Oh!" Coach Johansen arched an eyebrow. "Could they be at the level of Zachary already?"

"Most likely. They also have much more experience in international tournaments."

"Well." Coach Johansen half-smiled. "I guess that will be good for our players, especially Zachary. Playing against boys below his level may make him complacent in the long run. He needs to learn that soccer isn't easy regardless of the advantages afforded him by his talents. That was the main reason why the Rosenborg officials agreed to send him to international competitions."

Coach Bjørn sighed. "But before we think about VfB Stuttgart, we need to handle Genoa in the group stages—and possibly Zenit, Atalanta, or Tottenham in the quarter-finals. I hear that their players have good chemistry."

"I have faith that we'll win and reach the semifinals this time around," Coach Johansen replied confidently. "Hopefully, we can avoid injuries and suspensions before then."

*FWEEEEEEE!*

The referee blew the halftime whistle, interrupting their discussion.

"Let's head to the dressing room," Coach Johansen intoned, leading the way to the dressing room.

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