Jack was always the last one on the field.
When the other boys went home, when the sky turned orange and the dusty ground cooled down, Jack was still there—running, breathing hard, chasing a ball that had lost most of its air.
His shoes were old.
Too old.
The soles were cracked, the sides torn, but Jack didn't care.
Football was the only thing that made him forget everything else.
School was not easy.
Money was tight at home.
Dreams were… expensive.
That week, a new coach arrived.
No one knew much about him.
He didn't shout.
He didn't smile much either.
He just stood there, tall and quiet, with an old whistle hanging from his neck.
During morning assembly, he finally spoke.
"Tomorrow," he said, "I will choose the school team."
Everyone got excited.
Then he added,
"One rule. Only one."
The field went silent.
"If you play for yourself, you're out.
If you play for the team, you stay."
Jack felt his heart beat faster.
This was his chance.
The next day, the match began.
Jack sat on the bench.
Again.
He tried not to show it, but his hands were shaking.
He watched the others run onto the field—new shoes, loud voices, confident smiles.
The first half passed quickly.
Jack didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't complain.
Second half.
A loud shout.
One of the players fell, holding his leg.
The coach blew the whistle and looked around.
His eyes stopped on Jack.
"You," he said calmly.
"Jack. Go."
For a second, Jack didn't move.
Then he stood up and ran onto the field.
The ball came to him almost immediately.
His first touch was bad.
Too hard.
The ball rolled away.
Someone laughed.
Jack felt his face burn.
He took a deep breath.
Play for the team.
Next time, he didn't rush.
He passed.
Then he ran.
Another pass.
Another run.
Slowly, the game started to change.
Jack wasn't the fastest.
He wasn't the strongest.
But he was everywhere.
Last minute.
The score was tied.
One chance left.
The ball rolled toward Jack.
The goal was right in front of him.
He could shoot.
Everyone expected him to.
But he saw his teammate—free, closer, ready.
Jack didn't hesitate.
He passed.
Goal.
The whistle blew.
The match was over.
The coach walked toward him and spoke quietly, so only Jack could hear.
"The last whistle," he said, "is for those who choose right."
Jack smiled.
He looked down at his old shoes and tightened the laces.
For the first time, the dream felt real.
End of Chapter 1