//////!!!!!! WARNING !!!!!!//////////////////////

Parts of the following chapter include disturbing events that might trigger an unwanted response. Please proceed with caution.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Returning indoors, all of us gorged on piping hot pizza to fill our growling bellies. After bidding my exhausted classmates goodbye, I helped my parents clean up while I profusely thanked them for an amazing birthday, trying to be thankful for all the times I wasn't.

I excused myself as soon as we reached home, rushed to my room, and took a lightning-quick shower. Jumping onto my bed after changing into my pajamas, I stared at the ceiling as I recalled the floating windows.

"What were those holographic windows?"

"Was I hallucinating?"

"Has this whole situation been a hallucination?"

"If not, were those windows real? Are they responsible for my current situation?"

"They looked awfully similar to message windows in a game. Am I in some kind of a game?!"

I started doubting my reality as I felt my brain shift into overdrive to keep up with the rapidly spiraling thoughts.

*Huff* *Huff*

My body was taut with tension, I felt out of breath and my vision started swimming. Hearing my thundering heartbeat, I felt my throat choke up as I clutched my chest in pain.

*Ha* *Ha*

I was starved of oxygen, my lungs seemingly unable to do their job as my vision narrowed.

'Was it really just a hallucination? Am I drawing my last breath? How is mum going to survive all alone?'

My abrupt panic attack was interrupted by a knock, which ironically, caused it to subside, letting me draw a much-needed supply of fresh air.

Struggling to ease my throat, I called out, "Come in", as my brain relished at the fresh supply of oxygen.

"Hey champ, just wanted to make sure you were full. I could reheat some food if you are feeling hungry", asked my dad.

I struggled to keep a straight face, praying he wouldn't notice my labored breaths or thumping chest.

"I'm full, dad. I was just going to go to sleep, the match exhausted me", I replied in a very tired voice while keeping my eyes closed in an attempt to make him leave as soon as possible.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Okay, buddy. Good night", my dad whispered as I felt a warm hand stroking my head.

"You were very cool today, dad is very proud", my dad muttered before leaving the room with an audible click.

I let out an audible gasp as I heaved deep breaths. With my eyes closed, I focused on the lingering warmth on my head as my heart finally calmed down while my muscles relaxed.

"I don't care if this is a hallucination or if I'm in a game being an entertainment piece for some cosmic being as long as I can enjoy this a bit longer", I muttered as I drifted off to sleep.

******************************

"Here's the report", I informed Jeff before turning to leave......

Days blended together as my life became a monotonous routine. Wake up. Get to work. Work. Get home. Sleep. REPEAT.

My health took a toll as I abused cigarettes and alcohol to drown out the uneasy feeling building up in my chest.

I finally hung up my boots as I couldn't bear to continue letting down Mike and the team anymore. I emptied my whiskey collection that day.

I threw myself at work, finally managing to be hired by a Premier League team. My future couldn't be brighter, but ironically, my heart felt emptier than ever.

As I entered my penthouse, back from my mother's funeral, I felt devoid of any emotions. Living required effort, every breath now seemingly unnecessary. My heart empty of any feelings seemed to grow cold as I felt shackled by invisible chains.

Staring at my reflection, I saw a man tired of life, his hollow eyes rife with dark circles while his physique screamed undernourished. "What should I live for now?"

Still rooted to the spot, I felt a growing hole in my chest as I spotted a recently refilled bottle of my prescribed sleeping pills.

I watched as my hand, seemingly having a mind of its own, grabbed the bottle and dumped its contents on my palm.

I stared at the pile of pills, a sufficient amount to make me meet my maker. Feeling enough pain to doubt if I'd been stabbed, I shut my eyes and gulped down the pills to finally escape my misery.

******************************

*GASP* *GASP*

I woke up gasping for breath and looked around frantically. Realizing that it'd been a nightmare, I took a few deep breaths as I looked at the clock displaying 5:37.

"Might as well get up", I muttered, too scared to attempt to sleep again.

Putting on a training shirt and shorts after getting through my morning routine, I made my way to my parents' bedroom.

Hearing the distinctly loud snoring of my dad informed me that both of them were asleep. I walked down the stairs while I recalled the match yesterday.

I frowned as I found a lot of deficiencies compared to my performance as an adult and proceeded to plan a rough outline of a training routine for myself.

"The most important, is stamina. My stamina was abysmal"

I sighed as I recalled feeling weighed down after just two minutes of moderate activity. While I wouldn't need as much stamina since I am a striker, it was definitely below average, especially compared to the academy players.

Football is a stamina-intensive sport and will become increasingly so in the future, with most teams focusing on more player activity. It is also one of the few ways a physically inferior player can gain an edge - just running more than your opponent.

"Ball control, shooting, and passing accuracy were all significantly worse. Why did my technical skills degrade though?"

In a league filled with English "gentlemen", with a referee who looked the other way unless someone's legs were broken, the only reason I was able to play in League 2 despite my abysmal physical abilities was due to my vastly superior technical skills.

Although not as good as the top players, my shooting and ball control were as good as a bottom-tier Premier League player, compared to my current skills that would only amount to a talented amateur's at best.

"Is muscle memory that important?"

'I do remember reading somewhere that experienced athletes tend to have faster neural response to particular stimuli common to their respective sport. Kids not being great at fine motor control would have compounded the effects'

"I also need to develop my body in a balanced way, with a focus on flexibility, agility and reaction speed"

After finishing jotting down a rough outline of my future training plans, I went through them one last time,

- To increase stamina, do high intensity interval training using a mix of cycling and running (Do this for an hour every day except match days) Convince parents to sign up for swimming pool membership.

- Perform basic training drills, focus on improving ball control, especially first touch. Alternate shooting and passing drills.

- Perform calisthenics exercises every day to promote balanced growth of essential muscle groups. Convince Dad to do yoga.

- Join a gymnastics focused gym or team to increase flexibility and agility (very important).

- Avoid any weight training until 15 at the minimum

'Perfect. Barring injuries, I can follow this structure, increasing the intensity as I get better'

The experience of finding out what works best for my body through trial and error provided indispensable insight into the training it currently required.

Leaving the notebook in my room, I put on my training shoes and exited the house after leaving a note for my parents.

///// Author's Notes:

First touch ability - the amount of control a player can exert on their first touch of the ball as they receive it. Vital for strikers as they often need to shoot as quickly as possible.

Note - the reason gentlemen is in quotation marks is because although the term English gentlemen is very well known, ironically, English football tends to be rougher when compared to the other big leagues.