Next Morning...
Lucas's Room
Lucas (thinking):
"Ughhhh… my body... Why am I already this tired?"
I flopped back onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Can I really do this? Why am I so nervous? My heart's pounding like crazy… First time feeling this kinda pressure... Or is it just this new body? Tch. Who knows."
A few minutes passed. The ceiling stayed the same.
My thoughts? Not so much.
Lucas (groaning):
"AHHHHHHHHH! I need fresh air. My brain's melting…"
I threw on a jacket, slipped into my shoes, and headed out.
Lucas:
"Mom! I'm going out for a bit—need to clear my head!"
No reply. She was probably still asleep. Good. Less questions.
Lucas (thinking):
"Where should I even go? I'm nervous. I'm restless. Maybe the football park?"
I clenched my fist.
"Yeah. That'll work."
[Later – At the Park]
There it was—green turf, solid goalposts, birds chirping in the distance… and a boys' match already in full swing.
Lucas (grinning):
"Ohhh, perfect! They're playing already!"
I scanned for a seat.
Lucas:
"C'mon... c'mon... Ah! Jackpot!"
One empty spot. Right next to a sharp-looking old man in a sleek black suit. He had white-blond hair, looked mid-50s maybe. Elegant. Cool. Kinda gave off "retired mafia boss turned philosopher" vibes.
I sat quietly beside him.
Lucas (thinking):
"Damn… this guy's got serious drip. Looks like someone who sips espresso and drops life advice in riddles. Why am I even noticing that?! Watch the game, idiot."
Scoreboard:
Red Team – 2
Blue Team – 1
The match was heating up.
Lucas (muttering):
"Seriously? What's Blue Team doing… They've had chances, but they're bottling it…"
And then the man beside me spoke.
Old Man:
"Excuse me, young man. Do you think Blue Team can still win? They're barely getting shots off. Red Team's dominating."
I blinked.
Wait. Was he... talking to me?
Lucas:
"…You talking to me?"
Old Man:
"Yes."
Lucas (thinking):
"OH. MY. GOD. Stylish Gramps just spoke. And he knows football?! He's got rizzz and IQ?!"
I cleared my throat and sat up a bit straighter.
Lucas:
"Well, Red Team's got the numbers, sure. But stats don't win games.
Blue's defense and midfield are solid. Their only issue is that center forward—he's a ball hog. Probably some rich kid trying to make hero plays with long shots he can't land.
If the coach subs him off, they've got a real shot.
There's fire in that team—I can feel it."
The old man just stared at me.
Old Man (thinking):
"Even after joining late… he picked up that much? Sharp instincts. Reads the game like a veteran. If this boy ever became a manager…"
Lucas:
"...Uhhh… Old man? You alright?"
He blinked back to life.
Old Man:
"Y-Yes. Just surprised. Didn't expect that kind of insight from someone your age."
Lucas (grinning):
"Hey, I'm not just some kid, you know. Let's enjoy the match!"
[10 Minutes Later]
Blue Team finally subbed out their center forward. A new striker took the field.
Lucas (pointing):
"Ohohoho~ Watch this, old man. It's about to get spicy."
Moments later—GOAL.
Lucas (jumping):
"SEE?! Football's not about individuals—it's about the team!"
Old Man (laughing):
"You're not wrong, lad! Hahaha!"
And just like that, we were talking.
Players. Formations. Tactics. Coaches.
It didn't feel like strangers. It felt like two old friends reunited after years.
Author's Note:
"When two people love football… even strangers can become best friends. That's the magic of this game."
[Final Minutes – Blue Team Scores Again! Final Whistle!]
Lucas & Old Man (shouting):
"GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!"
We looked at each other—and burst into laughter.
Lucas (still laughing):
"Old man, you've got real football knowledge. Ever thought about becoming a manager?"
Old Man:
"Hahaha. You know what? I have."
We laughed even harder.
[A Few Minutes Later]
Lucas:
"Alright, I gotta run. If I'm late, Mom's turning me into a ghost."
Old Man:
"Take care, lad. It was a pleasure."
I gave a little wave and jogged off.
[Later – Near the Bench]
A young man in a suit rushed over, panting.
Stranger:
"Sir! We've been looking everywhere! Why aren't you answering your phone?! You can't just wander off in a new country like this!"
The old man ignored him, still smiling.
Old Man:
"Haha… What a brilliant kid."
Stranger (confused):
"Sir?"
Old Man (softly):
"I saw it… A spark. That boy—he has the fire of Mourinho in his twenties…"
Stranger:
"Should I look into him? Get a name?"
Old Man (smirking):
"No need.
If the football gods will it—we'll meet again."
[Lucas – Running Home]
Lucas (thinking):
"Man… that old guy really helped. I feel lighter now. No nerves. No doubts. Just me and football."
Then it hit me.
Lucas:
"CRAP! I'm gonna be late!"
I sprinted like my life depended on it.
[Meanwhile – Graymoor High Boys' Locker Room]
Team Captain:
"Coach, should we at least come up with a game plan for tomorrow?"
Coach Magnus Vren:
"Relax. It's just the girls' team. And they're being coached by that short dumbass. We don't need to prep."
Team:
"LOL! We're playing girls?! Let's party tonight—beers on me!"
Others:
"Me!"
"Count me in!"
"I'm in too!"
The captain sighed.
Team Captain (thinking):
"Ughhh... morons…"
[Around Town…]
Everyone was talking about tomorrow's match.
Jokes. Memes. Mockery.
Lucas was doubted.
The girls were nervous.
But no one had any idea what was really coming.
Will they win?
Or will Lucas lose everything?
— End of Chapter 12 —