The days blurred together. What had once been a dream was quickly becoming a lifestyle. What started as a small YouTube project, a way to document our journey, was now fueling our obsession. Every day felt like a step forward, but also like we were chasing something that might always be just out of reach.
The plan was simple: work harder than anyone else. And that meant a lot of early mornings and late nights.
Morning Routine – Unyielding
The sun hadn't yet made its appearance when my alarm went off, dragging me out of bed. I stumbled into my workout gear, pulling on the same shoes that had been through countless runs before. I wasn't tired, not anymore. I was just used to it.
By the time I made it outside, Kyle was already on the driveway, doing stretches like he was born doing them. KJ was dragging behind, his hair messy and his face half-asleep.
"Morning," I said, not even breaking a sweat as I stretched.
"Why are you up this early again?" KJ asked, rubbing his eyes. "We don't even have school today."
Kyle shrugged. "You know how he is."
We didn't wait for a response. We just ran. The first mile always felt like an easy warm-up, but by the time we hit the second mile, the burn set in, and I could feel it in my legs, my calves screaming. KJ pulled ahead, like he always did, his form perfect and his speed effortless.
Kyle was right beside him, barely breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, I was pushing harder, feeling the weight of my own legs trying to catch up. The fact that I was always last didn't bother me. I hated it, sure. But that was the point. I wasn't here to coast. I was here to prove something.
And the only way to do that was to push through the pain.
By the time we finished, Kyle was already back to the driveway, casually leaning against the mailbox and looking at me like I was the one who was slacking. KJ gave me a quick nod, like we'd just accomplished something monumental, before jogging back into the house.
I wasn't ready to go inside. Not yet.
Training After School – The Real Work Begins
The real grind began when school ended. We hit the field right away, no hesitation. KJ pulled out the cones and set up some shooting drills while Kyle, as usual, focused on his footwork and foot skills. He weaved around the cones like they weren't even there. His left foot moved the ball in tight, precise touches, never allowing it to get away from him.
I took a step back and watched, learning. No matter how much I practiced, I couldn't replicate Kyle's magic with his left foot. But that didn't matter. I was working on other things. I worked on my vision, my passing, my stamina—things that weren't as flashy, but crucial for a midfielder. My footwork needed to be solid, no matter which foot I was using.
"Alright, let's mix it up," I said, setting up a series of passing drills. We alternated between short passes, long passes, and one-touches. No easy passes. No shortcuts.
KJ was on fire, working on his shooting with precision. It was like he had a natural gift for it—power, accuracy, timing. But I didn't let it discourage me. I watched, studied, and then tried to emulate his style in my own way.
An hour later, sweat dripped off us like we had just come out of a pool. But that wasn't the end. It wasn't even close.
The Crossbar Challenge – Getting the First Win
"I'm calling it," I said, out of breath but determined. "Crossbar challenge. Now."
Kyle groaned but grabbed the ball without hesitation. "You know you're terrible at this, right?"
"Shut up and just shoot," I shot back.
We lined up at the edge of the box. KJ went first. Of course, he nailed it on the first try. His confident shot hit the crossbar cleanly, and he turned to me with a smirk.
"I'm going to make this look easy," he said.
Kyle followed, his shot just as powerful, but it rattled the crossbar slightly, the ball bouncing down just inches away. He cursed under his breath but gave a smug grin.
"Beat that," he said, tossing the ball to me.
I took my time. Focused. The last thing I wanted was to miss, again. I adjusted my stance, lined up, and took the shot. The ball sailed through the air and hit the crossbar with a satisfying ping.
"Yes!" I jumped, raising my fist.
KJ laughed. "Okay, maybe you're not completely hopeless."
Kyle rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile on his face. "You got lucky."
I looked at the camera and gave it a wink. "It's all about the grind," I said.
The Routine Becomes Second Nature
The grind wasn't just a phase. It wasn't something that could be turned off. It became second nature. The runs before school, the hours of training after school, the constant filming, editing, and uploading. It was no longer about having a channel. It was about the commitment. The process. The work.
We stopped thinking about how many subscribers we had or what the views were. We stopped caring if people watched our videos. Because it wasn't about the fame anymore. It was about getting better. Every single day.
And the changes were starting to show.
Kyle was faster than ever, and his control over the ball was beyond what I thought was possible. KJ's shooting was unstoppable. His technique was so smooth, it was as if he had mastered the ball.
But I was changing too. I was getting stronger, leaner, more focused. My passes were crisper. My vision sharper. I wasn't just improving—I was leveling up.
And deep down, I knew this was just the beginning. The world would start noticing us soon. But not because of the videos. Not because of the followers. They'd notice because we were getting better. And we weren't stopping until we reached the top.
The grind had set in.