David was still asleep when Coach Conti sat in his office, staring at the tactical board. For years, the team had been struggling—weak, inconsistent, and lacking a spark. But now, with David in the squad, Conti saw a sliver of opportunity.
"If I use him right… we might finally turn this season around," he thought, eyes narrowing.
Conti had analyzed David's stats meticulously. His shots? Deadly. Accuracy? Impeccable. Everything else? A disaster.
Ball control: weak.
Passing: unreliable.
Body: strong enough.
A smirk crossed Conti's face. "Then I'll play him as a Shadow Striker—free to shoot whenever he wants. Let him do what he does best."
Feeling like a tactical genius, he went to bed satisfied, imagining David breaking defenses with unstoppable shots.
---
The next morning, David woke early. Determined to improve, he headed to the training ground to work on his ball control. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even juggle twenty touches. Frustration gnawed at him. "Maybe I won't play at all this season," he thought, despair creeping in.
Soon, the rest of the team arrived, warming up under the clear morning sky. Coach Conti followed, checking everyone's stretches before putting his plan into motion.
An 11 vs 11 match was set. David was placed behind the striker, given one clear instruction: shoot whenever you see an opening. Freedom like this was rare, but it suited him perfectly. He was on the reserve team, the perfect testing ground for Conti's audacious strategy.
---
The whistle blew.
The match was chaotic and fast-paced. David tried to find the ball, but with his poor control and lack of support, he vanished into the field like a phantom. Coach Conti's chest tightened; doubt crept in. "Maybe this plan was too ambitious," he thought.
Then, at 35 minutes, everything changed.
A corner for the reserves. The winger delivered a perfect cross, but the defender cleared it with a powerful header. David, positioned outside the box, waited. The ball bounced perfectly for him.
With a single, instinctive motion, he struck a volley. The ball flew like a bullet to the top corner. The goalkeeper barely moved—there was nothing he could do.
The coach's eyes lit up. "This is it… this is why I believed in him."
The other players shrugged, calling it luck. Conti knew better.
David disappeared again as the match continued, his influence invisible—but he was saving his brilliance for the right moment.
At 43 minutes, the striker on his team was fouled thirty meters from goal during a counterattack. David stepped up, eyes sharp. Coach Conti nodded—he had the freedom to take it.
The whistle blew. David's shot curved like a banana, gliding past the wall of defenders. The keeper leaped, stretching with all his might, but the ball kissed the top corner with ruthless precision.
Conti's heart raced. "This is the player I've been waiting for."
Two goals. Two moments of sheer genius. And yet, the match wasn't about consistency—it was about potential. Conti knew this was just the beginning.