The contract still felt unreal in Ethan Cole's hands.
It wasn't thick. It wasn't impressive. Just a few pages clipped together, stamped with the Leyton Orient badge at the top and his name printed neatly at the bottom.
Short-term. Low wages. No guarantees.
Yet when he signed it, pen scratching across paper, his chest tightened in a way that told him this moment mattered more than any academy award ever had.
"Welcome to Leyton Orient," said Martin Hayes, the head coach, collecting the papers. His voice was flat, almost dismissive. "Training starts tomorrow. Be early."
"I will," Ethan replied.
Hayes studied him briefly, gray eyes sharp. "This club doesn't babysit. If your level drops, you're out."
Ethan met his gaze evenly. "Understood."
That seemed to be all Hayes wanted. He nodded once and turned away, already focused on something else.
No congratulations. No speech.
Just reality.
The next morning, Ethan arrived at the training ground thirty minutes early.
The dressing room was already alive with noise.
Music blasted from a speaker near the benches, some grime track Ethan didn't recognize. Boots clattered against the floor. Laughter bounced off the walls.
"Oi, Tommy, your touch is still rubbish!"
"Shut up, Callum, you couldn't trap a ball if it was glued to your foot!"
Ethan stepped inside quietly.
He took a locker near the end and began changing, eyes observing without staring. This wasn't an academy room full of boys chasing dreams.
These were men protecting livelihoods.
A tall striker with close-cropped hair glanced at him. "You the new lad?"
"Yes."
"Name?"
"Ethan."
"Jordan Graham," the striker said, offering a hand. "Welcome to the trenches."
Ethan shook it. "Thanks."
Another voice chimed in. "Academy boy, yeah?"
Ethan looked over to see a stocky midfielder tying his boots. "Yes."
"Figures," the man said with a smirk. "I'm Craig Clay. Don't overthink it out there. This league'll chew you up if you do."
Ethan nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
Craig laughed. "You're a quiet one. Might survive."
Out on the pitch, the tempo was immediate.
Coach Hayes barked instructions as assistant coaches set up drills. The players split into groups—defenders with defenders, midfielders in tight rondos, forwards working movement patterns.
Ethan was placed with the wide players.
"Stay sharp," Hayes called. "This isn't a showcase. This is work."
The system activated softly.
[Daily Training Log Initiated]
[Objective: Adapt to Professional Intensity]
Ethan felt it immediately.
Not strength.
Not speed.
Clarity.
The ball moved faster here. Touches had to be cleaner. Decisions had to be quicker. A half-second of hesitation meant losing possession.
When full-back Tom James stepped in hard during a drill, Ethan adjusted, releasing the ball early instead of forcing a dribble.
Good.
When winger Theo Archibald tried to skin him on the overlap, Ethan tracked back relentlessly, cutting off the angle.
Better.
[Decision Accuracy: Positive Trend]
Coach Hayes watched from the sideline, arms crossed.
The final part of training was a full-pitch scrimmage.
Ethan found himself on the right wing, marked by Callum Johnson, a veteran defender with a reputation for "welcoming" new players.
The first challenge came hard.
Callum leaned into him shoulder-first, testing balance.
Ethan staggered but stayed upright, nudging the ball back to Craig Clay before contact escalated.
"Smart," Craig muttered.
The second time, Ethan anticipated the pressure, flicked the ball down the line, and spun into space. Jordan Graham laid it off perfectly.
Ethan crossed first-time.
Not flashy.
Dangerous.
"Again!" Hayes barked.
By the end of the scrimmage, Ethan's shirt clung to his back, lungs burning, legs heavy—but his head stayed calm.
No mistakes.
No panic.
Later that afternoon, Hayes summoned him.
"You didn't try to be clever," the coach said bluntly. "I liked that."
Ethan waited.
"You read space well. You don't hide. That earns you something." Hayes leaned forward. "You're on the bench this weekend."
Ethan's heartbeat spiked, just once.
"Yes, sir."
"Minutes depend on the game. Stay ready."
"I will."
As Ethan left, the system chimed.
[Milestone: Matchday Squad Inclusion]
[Pressure Adaptation: +0.5%]
Small gains.
Real gains.
Saturday arrived wrapped in noise.
Brisbane Road wasn't massive, but the fans were close—loud, unforgiving. Ethan sat on the bench, watching Leyton Orient line up against Mansfield Town.
Jordan Graham led the line. Craig Clay anchored midfield. Tom James barked orders from the back.
By halftime, it was 1–1.
Ethan studied everything.
Mansfield's left-back leaves space behind him.
Their center-backs don't like runners.
The system responded.
[Tactical Pattern Logged]
At the sixty-eighth minute, Hayes turned.
"Cole," he snapped. "Get warm."
Ethan was on his feet instantly.
His debut wasn't glamorous.
Twenty-two minutes.
Eleven touches.
Seven completed passes.
One drawn foul.
One crucial defensive recovery when Theo Archibald lost possession.
No goal.
No assist.
But when the final whistle blew, Leyton Orient had held on for a 2–1 win.
In the dressing room, Jordan clapped him on the back. "Solid, lad."
Craig nodded. "Didn't bottle it."
That was praise.
That night, back in his room, exhaustion settled deep into Ethan's bones.
The system updated.
[Match Logged]
Minutes Played: 22
Errors: 0
Coach Rating: Reliable]
Reliable.
He smiled faintly.
Scrolling his phone absentmindedly, a celebrity news clip appeared again—camera flashes, red carpet, a woman commanding attention effortlessly.
A world far removed from muddy pitches and League Two benches.
The system flickered.
[Public Exposure Variable: Dormant]
[Condition: Career Advancement Required]
"Football first," Ethan murmured.
[Confirmed.]
He set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling.
This was only the beginning.
End of Chapter 2
Author's Note
📅 Update Schedule: 1 episode daily
✍️ Length: Minimum 1,500 words per episode
⚽ Long-term football career story — from the lower leagues to the top
❤️ Romance will be a slow-burn alongside the career