A 2-1 defeat to Liverpool, snatched in the dying minutes by a mont of pure Salah magic.
Leon Fischer walked off the pitch, the sting of defeat a bitter taste in his mouth, but even then, a quiet determination hardened within him.
He'd done his best, he'd given everything, and his 'Current: 81' rating glowed with the undeniable proof of his accelerated growth.
In the dressing room, the mood was somber but not despairing.
Coach Ery, though disappointed, spoke calmly.
"We fought. We showed courage. We played with heart. This is a learning experience. We take this, and we grow. Focus now is on the next ga."
His eyes lingered on Leon for a mont, a subtle nod acknowledging his performance.
John McGinn (Current: 84) slapped Leon's back as they headed for the showers.
"Tough one, Leo. But you were imnse again. Your vision in that second half... incredible. We'll get them next ti."
Ollie Watkins (Current: 86) added, "Salah's just different class, mate. No one could've stopped that. But you owned that midfield."
Leon appreciated the words. He knew the team valued his contributions, and that felt good. He thought about Salah's goal, the almost imperceptible shift, the perfect angle.
He'd seen the 'leg-and-ball' projection, the 'body shift' feint, but the execution had been too fast, too precise. It just proved there was always another level to reach, another layer to master in his 'sight'.
The next morning, the headlines confird the bitter pill of defeat, but also shone a spotlight on Leon's performance.
Salah Secures Late Winner, But Villa's Fischer Shines
Teenage Midfielder Impresses Against Liverpool Giants
Leon's phone buzzed with ssages.
Most were from his academy teammates, offering encouragent.
Ethan (Current: 75) sent: "Rough one, but you were still a beast, Leo! Next ti!"
Even Byon (Current: 80), despite being at City now, texted:
"Unlucky, mate. But you looked sharp. Good ga!" Leon smiled. Their rivalry was real, but their friendship was stronger.
He went ho for the day, seeking the familiar comfort of his mother's presence. She t him at the door with a hug that lted away so of the disappointnt.
"My brave boy," she whispered, her hands cupping his face.
"Are you alright? You played so well, Leon. I saw it on the TV.
They kept talking about you. The comntator said you were 'instruntal'!"
They sat down for lunch, and Leon's mom poured him a cup of tea.
"It was a tough match, Mom," he admitted, swirling the tea in his mug. "Liverpool are sothing else. Salah... he's just on another level."
"He is a wonderful player, yes," his mom agreed. "But so are you, my love.
You're out there, playing against them.
Do you know how many people dream of that? And you're only sixteen!" She looked at him, her gaze unwavering.
"When I saw you on TV, running, tackling, passing… it felt like just yesterday you were a little boy kicking a ball in the garden, making up your own rules."
Leon chuckled, rembering. "Yeah, but now the rules are a bit stricter, and the players are a bit faster!"
He paused, then looked at his mom. "I saw it, Mom. The play before it happened. The shot. The feint. I saw it, but it was just… too quick. I need to be faster.
My sight needs to be sharper." He didn't go into the details of the 'ghostly projections,' knowing she wouldn't fully understand, but she grasped his aning.
"You will be, Leon," she said with quiet conviction.
"You learn so quickly. Every ga, every challenge, makes you stronger. Just keep believing in yourself."
Later that afternoon, Leon pulled up the Premier League table on his tablet.
Aston Villa were currently sitting in 9th place. Not bad, but not where they wanted to be.
Above them, teams like Brighton, Fulham, and Chelsea were battling for European spots. Below them, a cluster of clubs were fighting to avoid the relegation zone.
"Ninth place," he murmured to himself. "Twenty matches left."
Twenty matches. That was still a lot of football.
Enough to make a real push. Enough to climb the table.
Enough for him to continue his rapid developnt, to push his 'Current' rating higher and higher. He pictured the future, a Villa side challenging at the top, and himself, a key figure in the midfield, dictating play, making those decisive passes, scoring crucial goals.
He thought about Byon again, now officially a Manchester City player.
He was probably training at their elite academy, pushing himself alongside talents that would one day conquer Europe.
The thought spurred Leon on. Their paths had diverged, but their dreams remained intertwined, pushing each other to reach new heights. He knew their next encounter would be epic, a true test of friendship against rivalry.
The next few days at the academy were a mix of recovery and renewed focus.
Leon spent extra ti analyzing match footage, not just of his own gas, but of top midfielders like Rodri (Current: 89) and Jude Bellingham (Current: 89).
He looked for the subtle cues, the body language, the positioning that allowed them to be so effective.
He tried to reconcile what he saw in the videos with what his 'sight' showed him in real-ti. It was like adding new vocabulary to a language he was still mastering.
He also spent more ti with Douglas Luiz (Current: 85), picking his brain about how to break down pressing teams, how to create space when there seed to be none. Luiz, patient and insightful, shared his vast experience.
"Sotis, Leon, the best pass is the simplest one. It opens up the next pass. Don't force it. The ga will give you the opening."
Leon nodded, rembering Luiz's earlier advice after the City ga. It was a balance: trusting his 'sight' for the audacious, but also knowing when to play it safe, to keep the ball moving, to maintain rhythm.
He also checked in on Byon. A quick text. "How's City life?"
Byon replied almost instantly: "Crazy. Fast. Everyone's a beast. But I'm loving it. Hardest I've ever worked.
"...."
Coach Ery called the team eting on Friday, the day before their next Premier League fixture. The mood was serious but determined.
They had to bounce back from the Liverpool defeat.
"Next match," Ery announced, his gaze sweeping over the squad.
"An important one. Away from ho. Against Everton at Goodison Park."
A collective murmur went through the room. Everton. A notoriously tough team, especially at their ho ground. Goodison Park was a hostile environnt, fad for its passionate, often intimidating, atmosphere.
Their central midfielder, Abdoulaye Doucouré (Potential: 86, Current: 84), was a tireless worker, and their striker Dominic Calvert-Lewin (Potential: 87, Current: 83) was a handful in the air.
"They will be physical," Ery continued.
"They will press. The crowd will be loud. This is a test of character. Leon..." His eyes found Leon's. "You start again. We need your composure, your vision, to control that midfield. You set the tempo."
Leon felt the familiar surge of nerves and excitent. Everton away. Another hostile environnt. Another chance to prove himself.
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A/N: So glad to share this with you. A little review goes a long way!
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