Ethan has finally recovered after being stuck in bed recovering; his muscles are still aching from the pure strain of that match.
He slowly eases down the stairs, his calves almost giving out as he attempts such a menial task.
'Parker has been leaving me on read. The last time I saw him was when he visited me while I was barely awake. Fuck, I haven't trained since I passed out, so I am definitely out of shape.'
Ethan takes a deep breath to regain his thoughts as he ogles the busy street.
He then hears the door behind him open, and then footsteps follow.
"Yo, Ethan, I guess you are finally back in action, huh?" Ethan turns to the unfamiliar voice and stares at the grinning new player, Francisco.
Ethan looks at him, confused, "Who are you? I don't think I have seen you here?"
Francisco looks at Ethan, surprised as he squats right next to him.
"Ah, well, I'm your new striker. My name is Francisco. Number one in the trades. I'll lead your team to the championship." He says, smiling.
His hair shines under the sun, almost blinding Ethan.
"Ah, okay. damn your hair's bright." Ethan says, while his eyes are slightly strained by the reflection.
"Why, thank you, my hair represents...nah, you don't need to know," he says, slightly grinning.
Ethan stares at him, confused, but doesn't pay too much attention to his said beliefs.
Francisco sits by Ethan. He thought about something, then said, "So Ethan, buddy. Since we are teammates, I want to understand how you operate on the field. I hope you understand?"
'What the hell is with this guy?' Ethan then shifts a bit to get into a more comfortable sitting position.
"Well, I am just stating the obvious, I play the winger and-" before Ethan could even finish his explanation, Francisco interrupts him. He leans in and gets uncomfortably close to Ethan's face.
"Cut the bullshit. Will you, Ethan? Pass me that damn ball, I just want people like you to get me the ball so I can do my job, which is to win, and none of that strategy bullshit, well, unless it's to me." Francisco explains seriously to him.
In a way, Ethan felt offended; no, he is offended. He just broke his shackles, and freedom plays go back on them for a much bigger asshole.
'What the fuck is this guy talking about? No plays or strategy, how did he, of all people, even make it to the top trade?'
"Game after game, I was the simple reason why I kept leading my teammates, who were honestly...useless," Francisco says disappointingly
"What do you mean by useless, and how the hell do you alone guide a team to winning?" He says, shocked.
Francisco wraps his arm around Ethan's shoulder. His muscles, compared to Ethan's, are very different. Ethans are defined, but slim. Sure, his thighs are much more prominent, but what soccer player wouldn't have defined thighs?
Francisco's arm muscle alone is much firmer, thicker, and more prominent than Ethan's. His calves are large. It simply seems like he was born for running.
Francisco chuckles a little, then answers, "A team without a reliable ace, captain, number one. They are nothing. For example, Dante Fiorenzo, does that ring any bells, Ethan?"
Ethan didn't even need to think; he knew instantly that he was a legend who had fallen due to a career injury.
"Of course, he was on the rise to be the greats until he had that training accident," Ethan says, quite saddened.
"As you said, rise to be one of the GREATS! He led his poor teammates to victory game by game. With HIS GOAL!" He speaks
Ethan takes a minute to stand, then says in a mean tone, "I get what you are getting at, and it's stupid. A team that should focus on an ace is too predictable. The only reason why his legacy was like that is mainly due to his receiving passes from his team, his damn near pure flexibility, and, unfortunately, to his tap-ins."
He sighs as he turns to leave, but then Francisco grabs his arm quite roughly
"Listen here, I meant what I meant. You pass to me; I will lead your shit team to championships. Don't worry, I knew this team was shit for a reason. IT WILL BE ME THAT LEADS THEM TO LIFT THAT DAMN TROPHY!"
Ethan forces Francisco's arm off of his. Without acknowledging his ignorant mentality, Ethan walks inside the facility. As this sticks to his mind like a tick, he decides to go to the gym, grabs a foam roller, and plugs it in. He turns on the vibration and puts it on high. Ethan relaxes for a moment as he rolls it in the front and back of his thigh.
Ethan turns to see Deshawn benching 360 pounds with the coach spotting him. he decides not to do anything to not hurt him. After the massage, Ethan goes into the locker room and finds the metal tub, and he sighs, knowing what he has to do.
He pours a whole bag of ice into the tub and adds water to it. As Ethan prepares, he looks around and, surprisingly, sees Parker on his phone eating a protein bar.
'Did he quit his shakes?' Ethan braces as he hops into the ice bath
"FUCK!" he yells as his whole body has an instant reaction. His sores, strains, and tenses are exploding. He wants to get out so bad, but he knows this will help him for the next game.
Even after a few minutes, his body is struggling to get used to it. Ethan finally gets out of the tub. His shirt was covered in ice as it fell onto the concrete ground, some breaking.
His shirt stuck to his body, water pouring onto the floor. His breathing hitched. He quickly takes off his shirt and plops it on the ground as it makes a loud and wet smack. Ethan rushes to get a towel and a bag. He picks up the shirt and puts it into the bag as he wipes the floor.
His skin is covered in goosebumps, veins showing, muscles tensing, and his neck veins popping out. He wraps the bag up and sets the towel aside. He finally goes to his room, sets the bag to the side, and lies on his bed to think over the morning.
'This is going to be some bullshit. Everyone is changing, sure, for the better, but that fucker Francisco ticked me the fuck off.'