The dawn was cool and quiet, but inside the academy dormitory, no one was sleeping. Boots were being laced, jerseys folded, and hearts were pounding like drums.
Today was the Selection Match — the game that would determine which players earned a permanent spot in the academy and which ones would be sent home.
Khali sat at the edge of his bunk, staring at his football boots. They were old and scuffed, but clean. He had polished them the night before, whispering to himself,"These boots will carry my dream today."
Bello sat across from him, tying his laces. "You ready?"
Khali nodded slowly. "I have to be."
Outside, the sun began to rise, painting the academy field gold. The coaches were already setting up cones and goal nets. Coach Maxwell stood near the center circle with a clipboard in hand, his expression unreadable.
Before Kickoff
The players gathered in a huddle, jerseys clinging to their backs with nervous sweat."Listen up," Coach Maxwell began. "You've all trained hard, but today we separate the boys from the men. Play smart. Play with heart. And remember — the scouts are watching."
Khali's chest tightened. The scouts — the same men who had once visited Zangola — were seated on the sidelines, clipboards ready, eyes sharp.
"Team A, blue bibs. Team B, yellow bibs," Maxwell barked.
Khali and Bello were both on Team A. To Khali's unease, Tunde was on the opposite side — Team B.
As they took their positions, Tunde smirked across the field."This time, I'll show everyone who belongs here," he muttered.
Khali said nothing. He just tightened his shoelaces and whispered under his breath,"Let my feet speak."
The Whistle Blows
The game began with thunderous energy. Tunde's team pressed hard from the start, using speed and power to dominate possession.
Khali played deep in midfield, organizing his teammates, keeping calm even when the ball zipped dangerously close to their box.
At the 10th minute, Tunde broke free, slicing through two defenders and scoring a fierce goal. The crowd on the sidelines erupted."That's talent!" one scout whispered.
Tunde pointed toward Khali after scoring. "Where are you, village boy?"
Khali clenched his fists but didn't reply. Instead, he took a deep breath and focused. Stay calm. Your chance will come.
Turning the Tide
By halftime, Team A was trailing 1–0. Sweat dripped down their faces as they huddled near the bench.
Coach Maxwell approached. "You're losing focus," he said sternly. "Khali, you're the playmaker. Lead your team."
Khali nodded firmly.
When the second half started, he shifted his rhythm — quicker passes, more movement, tighter coordination. Bello matched him perfectly, sprinting into spaces that defenders missed.
At the 55th minute, Khali intercepted a pass from Tunde, spun past a midfielder, and delivered a perfect through ball. Bello darted in and scored.
1–1.
The crowd roared again — this time for Khali.
He didn't celebrate wildly. He just raised his hand briefly, calm and composed. But inside, his heart was singing.
The Final Minutes
Time ticked down. Both teams were exhausted, the score still tied. Coach Maxwell shouted from the sideline, "One more chance, boys! One more!"
In the 89th minute, Tunde charged again, determined to take back the spotlight. He dribbled past two defenders — but Khali was waiting.
Just as Tunde lifted his leg to shoot, Khali slid in, clean and precise, knocking the ball away.
The ball rolled toward Bello, who sprinted down the right flank. Khali scrambled to his feet and ran into open space. Bello saw him and crossed.
Khali jumped — time seemed to slow — and with a powerful header, he sent the ball into the top corner.
GOAL!
Team A 2–1 Team B.
The entire field exploded in cheers. Even Coach Maxwell couldn't hide his smile.
Tunde kicked the ground, furious, but this time there was no mocking. Only silence — and defeat.
After the Match
When the final whistle blew, the players collapsed to the grass, exhausted.
Coach Maxwell walked onto the field with the scouts. "Excellent match," one of them said. "Plenty of raw talent here — but a few stood above the rest."
They read from the clipboard, calling out names."Musa Ibrahim… Tunde Olalekan…"
Tunde smirked again, confidence returning.
"…Bello Adamu… and Khali Danladi."
Khali froze. Then Bello shouted, "We made it!" and pulled him into a tight hug.
Khali smiled, tears filling his eyes. "Mama… I did it."
Coach Maxwell placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've got a rare gift, son — calm under pressure. Protect that. It'll take you far."
Khali nodded, his heart full.
A Quiet Victory
That night, as the academy lights dimmed, Khali sat by the window of his dorm. The field outside shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
He took out his small, worn-out football and turned it in his hands.
He remembered Zangola — the dusty pitch, his mother's smile, the dreams that once felt so far away.
Now, those dreams were real. But deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.
There would be bigger fields, tougher rivals, and higher stakes.
But Khali was ready.
He whispered into the night,"The road is long… but I'm not afraid."