The sun had barely risen over Nido Águila but Santiago Cruz was already awake. Not because of an alarm. Not because someone had knocked on his door. But because his body and mind wouldn't let him rest.
Today was different. Today was the day. The starting eleven for the first match of the Liga MX U19 League would be announced. The final decision.
The list that separated players from reserves. The list that would decide who was ready for real competition and who wasn't. Santi lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his heartbeat steady but his mind racing.
He had done everything possible in training. He had played one of his best matches in the scrimmage. He had proven again and again that he could compete with the best.
But was it enough? Did Herrera believe in him? Would his name be on that list? Santi exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening.
There was only one way to find out. He sat up, rolled his shoulders and got ready.
Santi stepped outside the dorms, the crisp morning air filling his lungs. Felipe was waiting for him. Leaning against the wall with arms crossed and a cup of coffee in hand as usual.
But today? Today, his smirk was gone.
"Long night?" Felipe asked. Santi shook his head.
"Didn't sleep much."Felipe studied him for a moment.
"That's good," he muttered. "It means you care." Santi exhaled, adjusting the strap on his boot bag.
"Doesn't mean anything if I don't get picked." Felipe raised an eyebrow. "You think it's just about today?"
Santi didn't respond. Felipe sighed, taking a slow sip of coffee.
"Football isn't about one game. One practice. One season," he said. "It's about what you do every single day."
Santi knew that. But today? It felt like everything came down to this one moment. Felipe's tone softened slightly.
"Listen, kid," he said, stepping closer. "No matter what happens, don't stop pushing. Because this?"
He motioned toward the field. "This is just the beginning." Santi nodded. But deep down, he knew that he needed his name on that list. Nothing else mattered.
If the past few days had been intense, today was something else. Players weren't just competing.
They were fighting. Every pass? Had to be perfect. Every sprint? Had to be faster than yesterday. Every duel? Was personal. Because by the end of this session? Half of them would be disappointed.
The other half? They'd be starting the first match of the season. Santi worked like a man possessed. Clean touches. Sharp movements. Precise passes.
He couldn't afford a single mistake. And he wasn't the only one.
Ochoa, Solano, Toro, Nico and Diego. They were all locked in, pushing their limits. Because today, there was no room for doubt.
Santi could feel Herrera watching him. Measuring him. Studying his every move. The evaluation wasn't over yet.
After training, as the players caught their breath and wiped the sweat from their faces, Herrera called out.
"Locker room. Now." No further explanation. Just an order. The squad moved toward the entrance, silent. Waiting.
Inside, Herrera didn't speak. Instead, he nodded to the assistant coach, who stepped forward and pinned a white sheet of paper to the board. The starting eleven.
Santi's stomach twisted as players rushed forward. Some eyes lit up. Some faces fell. Muttered curses. Shaking heads.
Santi stepped forward, heart pounding. His eyes scanned the list. And then, he saw it.
Midfield – Santiago Cruz.
His name was on the list. A breath he hadn't realized he was holding rushed out of him. Relief. Happiness. Determination. All at once.
He had fought for this. Earned this.
But before he could react, a voice behind him. Low. Sharp. "You don't deserve that spot." Santi turned. Toro. His jaw clenched, his eyes cold.
Santi held his stare. He had expected this. He knew the battle wasn't over. Making the starting eleven? That was just step one. Now, he had to keep it.
Minutes after the list was posted, Coach Herrera called for the starting eleven to gather. The players who had earned their place.
Santi stood among them, still processing the moment. His name had been there. Not just as a backup. As a starter. But as he looked around, he felt the weight of something else.
This wasn't just a moment to celebrate. This was a new kind of pressure. Because now? He had to prove he belonged.
Herrera's gaze swept over the group, his expression unreadable.
"You made the squad," he said, his tone flat. No congratulations. No praises. Just facts.
"But now?" Herrera continued.
"Now, you have to prove that you deserve it."
Santi clenched his fists. He knew this wasn't the end of the fight. Getting picked was one thing. Keeping the spot? That was something else entirely.
"You have one week before the first match," Herrera continued. "That means no days off. No excuses. No slip-ups."
He stepped forward, his voice steady but sharp.
"If I see anyone getting comfortable, anyone thinking they've 'made it just because they're on this list…." he paused, letting the silence sink in.
"I'll drop you. Just as fast as I picked you." A few players shifted uncomfortably. Santi didn't. He wouldn't let himself.
Herrera turned, nodding toward the rest of the squad; the ones who hadn't been selected.
"They want your spot," he said. "They're training just as hard as you. If you don't fight to keep it, someone else will take it."
His eyes landed on Santi for a moment.
"Don't waste this chance."
Santi met his gaze and nodded.
"I won't."
After the meeting, the squad returned to the locker room. But there was no celebration. No excitement. Just a cold and tense energy.
Because for every player who had made the starting eleven, there was someone who hadn't. And not everyone took it well.
Santi sat at his locker, untying his boots, when he felt the eyes on him. He turned and met Toro's glare.
"You got lucky," Toro muttered. Santi didn't react. Didn't flinch. He just kept untying his boots. Toro leaned closer.
"One bad game," he said quietly. "One mistake." He smirked.
"And you'll be back on the bench where you belong." Santi finally looked up, his eyes calm.
"Then I guess I just won't make mistakes." Toro scoffed.
"We'll see." Then he stood up, slamming his locker shut before walking out. Santi exhaled.
He knew Toro wasn't the only one who felt that way. There were others. Players who thought he had taken their spot. Players who wanted him to fail.
But that was fine. Because he wasn't there to make friends. He was there to keep his place.
As Santi stepped out of the locker room, Felipe was waiting for him.
"Well?" Felipe asked. Santi smirked.
"Starting." Felipe nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Knew you would." Santi raised an eyebrow.
"You don't sound surprised." Felipe shrugged.
"You worked for it. And now?"
He clapped Santi on the back. "Now you fight to keep it." Santi nodded. He wasn't satisfied. Not yet. This wasn't the final goal. This was just the start. Felipe chuckled, watching him.
"You know," he said, "some guys get comfortable after they make the starting eleven."Santi smirked.
"Yeah?" Felipe tilted his head. "You don't seem like one of them." Santi's eyes hardened. "I'm not." Felipe grinned. "Good. Because next week?"
He leaned in slightly. "That's when the real fight begins." Santi exhaled, feeling the weight of everything ahead. One week. Seven days. And then? The real test. The first match of the season.
The moment when he'd show everyone why he belonged there. And he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away.