God Of football - Chapter 107

Chapter 107: They Won’t Know What Hit Them Chapter 107: They Won’t Know What Hit Them The house was quiet as Izan sat in his room, the glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls.

His boots were on the floor, fresh out of the box Adidas sent him.

Their gleaming surfaces were a reminder of the challenge that lay awaiting him.

On his desk lay a notepad filled with sketches of plays and tactical notes he had scribbled this past week.

Izan lay on his bed thinking about the match.

Sunday was fast approaching and Izan couldn’t help but feel excited.

“I would like to see his face after the match” Izan uttered on his bed as he thought about Carlos.

The Pundit who had been underestimating him on the Laliga Analyst show the previous day.

Izan pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through a mix of headlines and fan comments about him.

“Izan Hernandez: Valencia’s Wonderkid or Media Hype?” “15-Year-Old Prodigy Faces Another Test Against Bilbao” “Izan Hernandez: People aren’t convinced” He sighed, setting the phone down.

The noise was everywhere-praise, criticism, and everything in between.

Reaching over to his bedside table, he picked up a framed photo.

It was of him as a young boy, no older than six, kicking a ball with his father in their small backyard.

He could almost hear his dad’s voice: “It’s not about the noise, hijo.

It’s about the ball.

Everything else disappears when you have the ball at your feet.” Izan smiled, tracing a finger along the edge of the frame.

His dad’s belief in him had never wavered, not even when Izan doubted himself.

He set the photo down and grabbed his boots.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he ran a cloth over the leather, letting the familiar motion calm his nerves.

His thoughts drifted to the training session earlier, to Baraja’s words.

“Stay calm, trust your instincts, and play your game.” Those words echoed in his mind, grounding him.

Baraja had placed his faith in him, not just as a player but as someone who could handle the pressure.

Izan clenched his jaw as he looked at the ball in the corner with a grin.

— The soft hum of the city outside his window was the only sound as Izan lay back on his bed, closing his eyes.

He began to visualize the game.

“Open Simulation” Izan muttered.

[ INITIALIZING SIMULATION TRAINING IN ] 5 4 3 2 1 After opening his eyes, Izan found himself on the pitch at the Estadio de San Mames.

Looking at the empty stands, the system quickly filled it with the crowd.

The noise, the tension and the atmosphere.

Everything felt real.

“This thing is really scary”, Izan muttered as 3 lifelike Bilbao defenders materialised in front of him.

He had been using the simulation for a while now but he still couldn’t get used to the way the dummies looked at him.

The crowd soon roared as a ball fell in front of Izan.

As soon as the ball hit the ground, the still Bilbao players started moving.

Calming himself, Izan evaded an onrushing defender with a quick turn and threaded a pass to an allied dummy that looked like Pietro.

“Wonder how he’d react if he could see this” Izan muttered as he ran into space.

The dummies quickly slotted the ball between the legs of another Bilbao player sending it to Izan.

Izan nudged the ball with the outside of his right boot sending the ball around the dummy before going around it to meet the ball.

He was now about 25 yards away from the goal.

With a smirk, Izan unleashed the ball towards the goal.

Izan’s posture faltered after kicking the ball making him fall on the ground.

Before he could raise his head, Izan felt the stadium shake.

“Wait, I didn’t apply for the earthquake patch yet”, Izan muttered jokingly as he lay down.

The dummy resembling Pietro came and stood over Izan, laughing with the same energy as Pietro.

“How is he still so dumb, even in a simulation?

As if sensing Izan’s thoughts, the dummy scratched his head before de-materialising.

Izan exited the simulation after a few runs.

Waking up, he felt refreshed.

This was one of the perks of the simulation.

Helping the Izan train effectively while keeping him energised.

“Can’t wait for the next upgrade?”, Izan thought as he got up.

—[late night] Just as Izan was drifting off, his phone buzzed.

He groaned, and picked up the phone, seeing a text from Olivia.

Olivia (10:37 PM): Hey, Izan!

Just checking in.

How’s everything?

Heard your name on the news again today 😅.

How are you handling all the media pressure?

Izan (10:38 PM): Hey, Liv.

It’s…

a lot, honestly.

Feels like cameras everywhere I go.

Some days it’s cool, but other days, I just want to disappear for a bit.

Olivia (10:40 PM): I can imagine 😔.

You’re only 15, Izan.

That’s a lot for anyone to deal with.

But you’ve got this.

You’re stronger than you think.

Izan(10:40 PM): Thanks for the assurance Mami.

Olivia(10:41 PM): Guess you’re okay seeing how you can joke.

Izan (10:43 PM): Thanks, Liv.

It helps knowing you’re in my corner.

Olivia (10:46 PM): No worries, You’re too talented and hardworking to fail.

And even if things get tough, it’s okay to take a step back and breathe.

I believe in you, no matter what.

Izan (10:47 PM): That means a lot.

Really.

I just wish you were here…

Madrid feels so far away right now.

Olivia (10:48 PM): I know, Izan.

I miss you too.

But you’re doing something incredible.

Keep going, and remember, I’m always a text or call away.

You’re not alone in this.

Izan (10:49 PM): You always know what to say.

Thanks, Liv.

You’re the best.

Olivia (10:51 PM): That’s what I’m here for.

Now go out there and show them why they’re talking about you 💪.

Izan (10:51 PM): Will do.

Talk later?

Olivia (10:52 PM): Anytime 😊.

— Placing the phone back on the table, Izan exhaled deeply.

He stared at the Ceiling for a while before he succumbed to sleep.

—- The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the kitchen as Izan sat at the dining table, tapping his fingers on the wooden surface.

His mom, Komi, was at the stove, humming a soft tune as she stirred a pot of soup.

His sister, Hori, was sprawled on the couch in the adjoining living room, flipping through a magazine.

“Izan,” Komi said, turning to look at him with her kind, steady gaze.

“You’ve been quiet all evening.

Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Izan looked up at his mother’s face which was staring back at him with a bit of concern.

Izan smiled and nodded, “A bit, but mostly all of this stems from excitement”, he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Komi walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Izan, listen to me.

You’ve worked hard for this moment.

Whatever happens tomorrow, remember that you’ve already made us proud.

You’re doing what you love, and that’s what matters most.” Komi wanted to continue as her mouth kept moving but she stopped.

Her words settled over him like a warm blanket, soothing his frayed nerves.

From the couch, Hori piped up, her tone teasing.

“Don’t let it get to your head, though.

You’re still the same Izan who couldn’t beat me at Uno last week.” Izan chuckled despite himself.

“That was luck, and you know it.” Hori grinned, setting her magazine aside.

She walked over and plopped into the chair across from him, her chin resting on her hands.

“Seriously, though, Izan.

You’ve got this.

You’ve been playing like a pro since you were, what, eight?

Athletic Bilbao isn’t ready for you.” “Thanks, Hori,” Izan said, his smile softening.

“That means a lot.” Izan knew Hori was just being a kind sister since she knew he wasn’t that good at football when he was young.

“What would I do without you?” Izan muttered thinking about the system.

Komi set a steaming bowl of soup in front of him and ruffled his hair.

“Eat up, mi niño.

You’ll need your strength.” As he ate, the three of them chatted about lighter topics-Hori’s upcoming art project, Komi’s latest book recommendation-but beneath it all, Izan felt their unwavering support.

— Later That Evening After dinner, Hori knocked on Izan’s door and peeked inside.

She held a small sketchpad in her hands.

“Hey,” she said, stepping in.

“I made something for you.” She handed him the pad, and Izan flipped it open.

Inside was a pencil sketch of him in his Valencia kit, mid-dribble, with the caption: “It’s not about the noise.

It’s about the ball.” Izan stared at it for a moment, touched.

“Wow, Hori.

This is amazing.

Thank you.” Hori shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Don’t get all sappy on me.

Just hang it up in your locker or something.” “I will,” he promised, pulling her closer only to ruffle up her already messed-up hair.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it,”, Hori said as she chased Izan around.

— Komi’s Final Words Before going to bed, Komi knocked softly on his door.

She stepped inside and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Izan,” she began, her voice gentle.

“I know tomorrow feels like the biggest day of your life, but there will be many more days like this.

Win or lose, it’s just one match.

What matters is how you carry yourself, on and off the pitch.” Izan nodded, her words settling deep in his heart.

“Thanks, Mom.

I’ll remember that and don’t worry; they won’t know what hit them,” Izan said with a smug expression.

She kissed his forehead, her voice soft but firm.

“Sleep well, mi amor.

Tomorrow, you’ll show them what you’re made of.” As she left the room, Izan lay back, the love and support of his family giving him the strength he needed to face the day ahead.

— A/n: 2nd Bonus chapter.

Once again, sponsored by Harith_TM.

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