The roar of Villa Park slowly faded as Leon stepped back into the dressing room, the air thick with the scent of linint and sweat, yet charged with an exhilarating energy.
Aston Villa had won, and he had been part of it. He looked down at his boots, still slightly muddy from the pitch, a tiny smile playing on his lips. It was real.
"Fischer! Get over here, lad!"
It was John McGinn, his face flushed with exertion but beaming.
He clapped Leon hard on the back, a thump that nearly knocked the wind out of him.
"What a ball, son! You've got so vision, eh? Knew you were good, but that for a debut?
"Exceptional!" His Current: 83 rating seed to shimr with genuine warmth, reflecting the sheer joy of the mont.
Ollie Watkins, the goalscorer himself, walked over, a towel draped around his neck.
"Seriously, Leon, I barely had to break stride. That ball was on a string. Welco to the Premier League, mate."
He grinned, offering a hand. Leon shook it, feeling a surreal thrill. These were the guys he watched on TV, now they were his teammates, praising him.
Douglas Luiz nodded approvingly. "Calm under pressure. Good. That's what we need." His quiet approval felt like a big endorsent.
Leon felt a blush creep up his neck, but it was a good feeling.
"Thanks, guys. I just... saw the space." He chuckled, a little light-headed from the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.
He glanced at his own 'Current' rating, seeing it had nudged up by a point, now at 79. The pressure, the experience, it was all fueling his growth, adapting him to this incredible new level.
Coach Ery walked into the room, his expression still serious, but a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Good win, team. Three points. But we move on. Focus is for next week. And Leon..." He looked directly at Leon, his gaze intense, analytical.
"You adapted well. That assist was crucial. Keep this ntality." Leon felt a surge of respect for the manager, a quiet determination to live up to his words.
After showering and changing, the buzz in Leon's mind was almost too much to contain.
He quickly texted Byon. "et you by the academy gates. NOW!" He knew Byon would be just as excited, if not more so.
He found Byon pacing excitedly outside, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. As soon as he saw Leon, Byon let out a whoop, startling a couple of passers-by.
"LEON! YOU DID IT! THAT PASS! OH MY GOSH! I scread so loud I think I woke up half of Birmingham!"
Byon's Current: 77 seed to vibrate with his excitent, radiating pure, uncontainable happiness.
"You're a Premier League assist king! On your debut! That's insane, mate! The entire U18 squad was going wild in the common room!"
Leon grinned, still feeling the lingering buzz of the match.
"It was... unreal, Byon. The noise. The pace. It's a whole different world."
He recounted the monts, the intensity of the ga, the feeling of the ball leaving his foot for Watkins's goal.
"I saw the space, Byon, clear as day. It was like... the numbers just told where to put it, like a highlighted path."
"Your superpower in action, eh?"
Byon laughed, his eyes shining. "Seriously though, I'm so proud of you, mate. This is what we always talked about."
His smile, while genuinely happy for Leon, held a faint hint of wistfulness. Leon knew Byon's own upcoming assessnt for the academy's senior pathway was constantly on his friend's mind.
"Hey," Leon said, placing a hand on Byon's shoulder.
"My turn now, yours is next. We train harder than ever for your assessnt. We'll show Mr. Davies exactly how consistent you can be.
Byon's face lit up with renewed determination, chasing away the brief shadow.
"You're right. You're absolutely right. Now you've set the bar, I have to match it!" His resolve was palpable, a testant to his own inner strength and Leon's unwavering belief in him.
Leon arrived ho to find his mother waiting by the door, her eyes already glistening.
She pulled him into a warm, familiar hug, the kind that spoke volus without words. It was the comfort he craved after the whirlwind of the day.
"My son," she whispered, her voice thick with pride. "My Premier League son."
She held him at arm's length, her eyes tracing his face as if seeing him anew, taking in every detail of her growing boy. "I watched it all. That pass… oh, it was beautiful, Leon. Just beautiful."
They sat at the kitchen table, a plate of his favorite homade cookies appearing as if by magic.
Leon talked, really talked, about the ga. The deafening roar of the crowd, the lightning speed of the players, the intensity of Coach Ery's instructions, the feeling of the grass under his boots.
He tried to convey the feeling of that assist, how his sight had guided him, how everything had just clicked into place.
"It's like… seeing a blueprint, Mom," he explained, gesturing with his hands.
"Everyone's moving, but I can see the lines, the connections, where the ball should go, even before anyone else thinks it. And today, it was perfect."
His mother listened intently, her gaze unwavering.
"I always knew you had a special way of seeing things, Leon," she said softly.
"Even when you were little, you'd always find the solution to a puzzle faster than anyone.
This is just… a bigger puzzle." She squeezed his hand, her touch grounding him.
"Just rember, stay humble, work hard, and never forget where you ca from. Never forget why you're doing this."
Leon nodded, feeling profoundly grounded by her words, the warm comfort of ho and his mother's unwavering love. This was his anchor, the quiet strength that kept him steady amidst the whirlwind of Premier League football.
The week following his debut was a whirlwind. News articles ntioned his "impressive cao" and "visionary assist," so even speculating about his future.
He trained with the first team for the entire week, feeling himself soak up the knowledge like a sponge.
He noticed the senior players now treated him less like a new kid and more like a budding teammate, offering advice, sharing jokes, even calling him "Leo" sotis.
Byon, anwhile, was training with an almost terrifying focus for his upcoming assessnt.
Leon spent extra ti with him after regular academy sessions, drilling one-on-one, working on quick decision-making in tight spaces, showing him how to analyze defender movents and exploit tiny gaps. Byon's Current rating hovered around 78, a significant improvent, and his confidence was visibly soaring.
"You're a machine, Byon," Leon puffed after a particularly intense drill, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Just trying to catch up to my Premier League mate," Byon grinned, a flash of his old confidence mixed with newfound discipline.
"You think I have a chance for the senior pathway?"
"More than a chance," Leon assured him, clapping his friend's shoulder.
"You're playing smarter, Byon. They'll see it. You just need to show them you can do it consistently on the big day."
On Friday, Coach Ery gathered the squad in the tactical room. The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation.
"Okay, lads," Ery began, his voice calm but firm, cutting through the chatter.
"Next up, the FA Cup. Third Round. A big one." He paused, letting the words sink in, the weight of the competition hanging in the air.
"We're drawn against Manchester City."
A collective murmur, a mix of awe and trepidation, went through the room.
Manchester City. One of the best teams in the world, reigning Premier League champions, a global powerhouse.
Their 'Current' ratings, even Leon knew without looking, would be astronomical.
Erling Haaland (Potential: 94, Current: 92), Kevin De Bruyne (Potential: 93, Current: 91)
Rodri (Potential: 90, Current: 89) – they were legends in the making, or already were. This was a giant.
"It will be a challenge," Ery continued, his eyes scanning the room, his gaze unwavering,
"but it is also an opportunity. An opportunity to show what we are capable of. And for so of you, an opportunity to gain more experience on the biggest stage."
He paused, his gaze landing directly on Leon. "Fischer. You will start."
Leon's blood ran cold, then hot. Start? Against Manchester City? In the FA Cup? This was a dream, a nightmare, and the ultimate test all rolled into one.
His heart hamred against his ribs, a frantic rhythm against the silence that had fallen in the room. This was bigger than a debut. This was a direct confrontation with footballing giants, a clash against a team full of players whose numbers soared above his own. His 'Current' rating, 79, felt small compared to the giants he would face!!
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