The rhythm of the drill grew faster, and the attackers learned to anticipate each other’s movents. Benjamin found himself slipping into the flow, and his touches was growing more instinctive.
"Good, Benjamin!" Martens called after a particularly tight turn and pass. "Keep it up!"
The defenders, however, weren’t giving up. Johansson lunged at Adam, forcing a hurried pass that went slightly off-target.
Gudmundsson stretched to recover it, but Reijnen was already there, intercepting the ball.
"Switch!" Gertjan Verbeek’s voice cut through the groans of the attackers.
Benjamin rotated out, catching his breath as he moved to the side of the grid.
The next group of players stepped in, their intensity matching the first. Nearby, Gertjan Verbeek prowled the sidelines, his sharp eyes missing nothing.
Benjamin watched closely, noting how the defenders tried to anticipate the attackers’ patterns. The drill wasn’t just about passing—it was about reading the ga, and staying one step ahead of your opponent.
"Don’t just react to the passes," Gertjan Verbeek called out, his voice sharp. "Think ahead. See the space before it opens."
Benjamin nodded to himself, taking the words to heart. When it was his turn again, he stepped into the grid with renewed focus.
The ball zipped toward him, and this ti he kept his focus.
As the drill continued, he didn’t just see the next passing route—he saw the one after it.
The defenders pressed hard, but Benjamin stayed composed, shifting the ball precisely and with speed. A clever backheel to Martens drew an approving nod from the captain.
The ball moved seamlessly between the attackers with each pass building their confidence and rhythm in tight spaces.
By the ti Verbeek blew the whistle to end the possession drill, Benjamin’s shirt clung to him as he was already drenched in sweat.
But as he jogged to the sidelines for a quick water break, he felt a flicker of satisfaction. The drill had been grueling, but it had sharpened him by forcing him to think faster in tight situation.
"Good work," Martens said, clapping him on the shoulder as they reached the bench. "You’re settling in nicely."
Benjamin nodded, his breath still coming in short bursts. "Thanks, Captain. Just trying to keep up."
Martens smirked. "You’re doing more than that, mate. Keep it up, and Gertjan Verbeek might start calling you his secret weapon."
Benjamin couldn’t help but smile at the complint, even as he prepared himself for the next challenge which was the defensive drills. Training was far from over.
The brief water break felt like a fleeting mont of relief. Benjamin could feel his heartbeat starting to slow, but it was clear from the looks exchanged among his teammates that the hardest part of the session was yet to co.
"Alright, that was good," Gertjan Verbeek said, his voice cutting through the buzz of conversation.
The players gathered around him again, so still catching their breath, others shifting their body in anticipation. "Now we move to defensive work. This is where matches are won and lost. Pay attention."
The coaching staff moved quickly, laying out more cones and markers. The setup this ti stretched across a larger section of the pitch. Two grids were positioned side by side, each with two small goals at the ends.
"Here’s the drill," Gertjan Verbeek began as he gestured toward the setup. "We’re splitting into three groups. Two teams will compete: attackers versus defenders."
"The third group will rotate in after five minutes. The attackers will aim to score in the small goals, while defenders, your job is to disrupt, intercept, and clear the ball. If you win possession of the ball, transition quickly—find the nearest outlet, and reset. Got it?"
"Aye, Coach!"
A collective murmur of agreent rippled through the group.
"Good. Martens, take charge of Group A. Gudmundsson, you’re leading Group B. Group C, Adam’s with you. Benjamin, you’re with ."
Benjamin felt a twinge of nervous excitent. Being placed directly under Gertjan Verbeek’s watchful eye ant no room for error.
As the groups divided themselves, Benjamin joined his teammates, including Viergever and Johansson, on the defensive side. Martens’ group started as attackers.
Gertjan Verbeek strode toward Benjamin’s grid, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the setup.
"Defending isn’t about chasing shadows," Gertjan Verbeek began, his tone instructive. "It’s about the structure, communication between the defenders, and anticipating any situation."
"Stick to your shape, and don’t dive in. Force them into mistakes—make them earn every inch of movent they get past you."
Fweee!~
With a sharp whistle, the drill began. Martens imdiately received the ball from one of the assistants, and his team sprang into action.
The attackers moved quickly while passing the ball with precision as they sought openings.
Benjamin’s group shifted as one unit, forming a compact defensive line to block any direct paths to the mini-goal.
Martens feinted left before sending a sharp diagonal pass to Gudmundsson, who darted toward the edge of the grid.
"Watch the overlap!" Johansson shouted, pointing to an onrushing player.
Benjamin read the movent, stepping into the passing lane just as Gudmundsson attempted a one-two. His outstretched foot connected with the ball, deflecting it out of play.
"Good interception, Benjamin," Gertjan Verbeek called out. "But next ti, look for the counter. Don’t just clear it—make use of it like you did in Dangestan."
The drill reset. This ti, the attackers probed down the opposite flank.
Benjamin tracked his man closely, with his eyes darting between the ball and the movent around him.
When Martens received the ball near the center, Benjamin noticed a slight hesitation in his posture—a telltale sign of a cross-field switch.
He imdiately stepped forward, cutting off the pass with his chest before imdiately looking up for an outlet.
Seeing Adam free on the wing, he played a sharp, grounded pass that allowed his teammate to transition into an attack.
"Better!" Gertjan Verbeek’s approval was brief but encouraging.
As the minutes passed, the intensity ramped up. The attackers moved with increasing urgency, their passes becoming faster and their feints more deceptive.
But the defenders held their ground most of the ti, while communicating constantly to maintain their defensive shape.
When it was Benjamin’s turn to switch to the attacking side, he imdiately felt the full force of the drill’s difficulty.
The defenders pressed relentlessly, forcing him to think two steps ahead with every touch. Johansson’s tackles were sharp and precise, and Viergever’s positioning left little room to maneuver.
"Keep moving around,!" Martens called out from the sideline. "Don’t stop looking for space!"
Benjamin adjusted his position, dropping deeper to create a passing option. He received the ball under pressure and quickly turned away from his marker before slipping a pass to Adam.
The move didn’t result in a goal, but it broke the defensive line montarily which earned a nod of approval from Gertjan Verbeek.
By the ti the whistle blew to signal the end of the drill, Benjamin’s legs felt heavy from exhaustion, but his mind was sharper.
The constant transitions between defense and attack had pushed him to his limits, but it was clear he had held his own.
Gertjan Verbeek gathered the group one last ti, his expression looked firm but not unkind. "That’s the level we need every single day. Matches are won with monts like these—when you defend with everything you’ve got and turn it into an attack. Keep building on this."
"Tomorrow, which is a Saturday, we’ll be having our final training session before our league ga the next day against Heerenveen. We have to make sure to keep up the montum and build up from the Europa League win." The players nodded and then began dispersing.
Benjamin looked well and truly exhausted as he packed up his bag and headed to the dressing room to shower and rid himself of the sweat that had accumulated.
"Hey, are you heading ho now?" Adam asked as he approached Benjamin.
"No. I’ve got an appointnt with soone."
Adam nodded, tossing his bag over his shoulder. "Oh, alright. Catch you later, then."
Benjamin gave a quick wave, watching Adam leave the training grounds before turning back toward the dressing room.
His muscles ached as he walked, and the prospect of a hot shower was almost too enticing to ignore.
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