The Nottingham Forest training ground was a far cry from the pristine facilities Cruyff remembered from his Arsenal days. The grass was patchy, the goalposts slightly rusted, and the changing rooms smelled of decades of teenage sweat and broken dreams. Yet standing here now, with twenty years of professional experience compressed into his sixteen-year-old mind, Cruyff felt a surge of nostalgia mixed with determination.
Forty-seven hopefuls had shown up for the trial, ranging from confident academy rejects to nervous local talent. Cruyff recognized some faces from his original timeline—players who would go on to have modest careers in the lower leagues, others who would disappear from football entirely within two years. But none of them knew what he knew: that today would be the first step in rewriting football history.
"Alright, lads!" Coach Thompson's voice boomed across the training pitch. "Welcome to Nottingham Forest. Most of you won't be here next week, so make every touch count."
The system interface flickered in Cruyff's peripheral vision:
[Daily Quest Active: Complete your trial at Nottingham Forest]
[Progress: 0/2 assists required]
[Time remaining: 90 minutes of match time]
[Bonus objective: Impress coaching staff (0/100 points)]
Cruyff smiled to himself. In his first life, he'd been intimidated by Thompson's harsh demeanor. Now, having played under some of the world's most demanding coaches, the man seemed almost quaint in his old-school approach.
The morning session began with basic fitness tests and ball work. Cruyff deliberately held back, not wanting to appear too far ahead of his peers too early. But even at 70% of his capability, his touch was sublime. The ball seemed magnetized to his feet, responding to his will with an ease that drew appreciative glances from the other trialists.
"Nice feet, son," muttered Jamie Walsh, a stocky midfielder from Birmingham who Cruyff remembered would eventually play for Coventry City. "You been training somewhere special?"
"Just the local park," Cruyff replied truthfully. In his original timeline, he'd spent countless hours alone with a ball, dreaming of moments like this.
The tactical session revealed the Forest youth coach's preferred 4-4-2 formation—simple, direct, relying on wingers to deliver crosses for two target men. It was football from another era, the kind of system that would struggle against modern pressing and positional play. But Cruyff could work with it. In fact, he could revolutionize it.
During the possession drill, Cruyff began to show glimpses of his true ability. A perfectly weighted pass split two defenders to find the striker's feet. A clever through ball that no one else on the pitch had even seen developing. Each pass was calibrated to perfection, demonstrating a level of vision that belonged in professional football, not youth trials.
The system pulsed approvingly:
[Skill demonstration detected: Advanced passing]
[Bonus points earned: +15 (15/100)]
"Christ," whispered Danny Morrison, a gangly defender who would never make it past semi-professional level. "That kid's different class."
Coach Thompson was trying to maintain his stern expression, but Cruyff caught the flicker of interest in his eyes. This was exactly how he remembered it should have gone the first time—if only he'd had the confidence to show his true ability.
As the session progressed toward the afternoon scrimmage match, Cruyff felt the familiar pre-game butterflies. Not from nerves—those had been burned away by hundreds of professional matches—but from anticipation. This was where everything would begin.
The teams were divided: Cruyff found himself in a red bib, playing as the number 10 in a group that included several promising players. His strike partners were Tommy Chen, a quick but selfish forward who shot from impossible angles, and Marcus Williams, a target man with decent finishing but poor movement.
Perfect. He knew exactly how to work with both types.
The whistle blew, and Cruyff immediately began to conduct the orchestra around him. His first touch set the tone—a weighted ball from the center-back that he cushioned perfectly before laying it off to the right winger with surgical precision. Not spectacular, but flawless in its simplicity.
For the first fifteen minutes, he kept things conservative, adapting to his teammates' rhythms and abilities. But as the game wore on and he grew more comfortable, the magic began to emerge.
The first assist came in the 23rd minute. Cruyff received the ball thirty yards from goal, surrounded by three defenders. In his original timeline, he would have panicked, played it safe with a backwards pass. Now, he saw the pocket of space behind the left-back, visualized Tommy Chen's run three seconds before the striker even knew he was going to make it.
The pass was perfect—a curling ball with just enough backspin to sit up beautifully as Chen rounded the keeper and slotted home. The striker wheeled away in celebration while Cruyff simply raised his hand in acknowledgment, as if such moments of brilliance were routine.
[Quest Progress: 1/2 assists completed]
[Bonus points earned: +25 (40/100)]
[New skill unlocked: Enhanced Vision (Temporary)]
The enhanced vision activated immediately, and suddenly Cruyff could see the game with even greater clarity. Movement patterns became predictable, defensive positioning flaws glowed like neon signs, and passing lanes opened up that others couldn't even imagine.
Coach Thompson was frantically scribbling notes on his clipboard, while the assistant coach leaned over to whisper something urgent in his ear.
The second assist should have come ten minutes later when Cruyff threaded a perfect ball through to Marcus Williams, but the big striker's first touch let him down and the keeper gathered easily. Cruyff felt the familiar frustration of his professional career—creating perfection only to watch others waste it.
But he remained patient. In the 67th minute, his persistence paid off in the most spectacular fashion possible.
The opposing team won a corner, and Cruyff found himself defending his own penalty area. As the ball came across, he rose to head it clear, his timing perfect despite his relatively small frame. The clearance fell to the opposing midfielder, who immediately looked to launch another attack.
But Cruyff had already started running.
He intercepted the pass twenty-five yards from his own goal, took a touch to steady himself, and then looked up to survey the pitch. What he saw made his heart race—a completely undefended goal sixty yards away, with both opposing defenders caught upfield from the corner.
This wasn't about creating a chance for someone else. This was about creating magic himself.
Cruyff struck the ball with his right foot, sending it sailing through the air in a perfect parabola. For a moment, time seemed suspended as everyone on the pitch watched the ball's arc. The opposing goalkeeper, caught completely off guard, scrambled desperately backward, but he was never going to make it.
The ball dropped just under the crossbar and nestled into the net with the most satisfying sound in football—the whisper of nylon as dreams come true.
[GOAL SCORED!]
[Bonus objective completed: Demonstrate exceptional ability]
[All quest requirements exceeded]
[Massive bonus points earned: +45 (85/100)]
The pitch erupted in chaos. His teammates mobbed him while the opposing players stood in stunned silence. From sixty yards out, with his weaker foot, he'd scored a goal that would have been the highlight of any professional match.
Coach Thompson had dropped his clipboard entirely and was staring at Cruyff like he'd just witnessed a miracle. Which, in a way, he had.
But Cruyff wasn't finished. With his enhanced vision still active and fifteen minutes left on the clock, he was determined to complete his original quest. In the 78th minute, he finally got his second assist—a delicate chip over the defensive line that Marcus Williams, perhaps inspired by the earlier wonder goal, finished with aplomb.
[Quest Completed: 2/2 assists achieved]
[Bonus: 1 spectacular goal]
[Final bonus points: 100/100 - Perfect performance]
As the final whistle blew, Cruyff felt the system's warm glow of satisfaction. But more importantly, he saw the look in Coach Thompson's eyes—the same expression Arsène Wenger would wear years later when he first laid eyes on a young Mesut Özil.
"Son," Thompson said, approaching him as the other trialists began to disperse, "I think we need to talk."