The flight to Valencia was a first for Ethan in several ways. It was his first time on a plane and his first time leaving the country. He sat by the window, feeling both nervous and excited as the gray clouds of England gave way to the bright blue of the Spanish sky.
The England squad took a bus to a modern sports complex just outside the city. It was full of sun-bleached terracotta roofs, perfect, watered pitches, and palm trees swaying in the light breeze. It felt far removed from Eastfield.
"It's a bit better than the muddy pitch at Harrington, right?" a voice said next to him. Ethan turned to see Leo, his roommate from the first camp, grinning widely. "I think I could get used to this." "Matthews." A sharp, familiar voice broke in. Marcus was already there, his bag neatly at his feet, looking as if he had been there all week. "Ready?" "Ready," Ethan replied, falling into step beside him. The dynamic was set. They were no longer trialists; they were a team.
That evening, the England manager gathered them in a conference room. "Lads," he started, "welcome to Spain. Enjoy the weather, but don't confuse this with a holiday. You are here to work. In two days, you play Spain. In four days, you play Germany. These are undoubtedly the two best youth development systems in the world. They will be technical, fast, and smarter tactically than any team you have faced before."
He clicked a remote, and a video of Spain's U16s playing appeared on the screen. They moved in a blur of quick passes, constant motion, and intense pressure. "This is the standard," the coach said, his tone serious. "This is where we discover if we're just a good team or an elite one. You are here because you are the best in England. Now, go show it against the best in the world."
The first training session on Spanish soil was a tactical whirlwind. The entire session focused on breaking the Spanish press. The drills were demanding: one and two-touch passing, finding space, and turning quickly.
"Don't let them control the game!" the coach shouted, his voice ringing in the clear air. "Matthews! They will be on your back the moment you get it. Your first touch needs to be a pass or a turn. No hesitation! Be decisive!"
That night, Ethan stood on his room's balcony, the cool, salty scent of the sea drifting in from the coast. His phone buzzed with good luck messages from his mom, Mason, and Callum. His mind felt clear and sharp, the decision about West Brom filed away neatly.
He was certain the scouts from West Brom would be watching these games. A strong performance here, against top youth players globally, would confirm their offer beyond any doubt. But for the first time, that pressure felt like motivation, not a weight.
He was no longer the scared kid from Eastfield questioning his place. He was not the selfish player trying to show off. He was the starting number ten for England, and he had a task to complete. Taking a deep breath, he focused intently. He wasn't thinking about a scholarship; he was thinking about how to beat Spain.