The morning after their grueling battle against Chivas, the academy grounds felt different; the place was quiet and calm. The usual rush of players heading to the training pitch, the coaches barking orders and the sound of boots striking the ball were absent. Instead, the air carried a sense of relief.
For the first time in weeks, there was no pressure, no expectations and no drills waiting for them. The coaching staff had declared a recovery day, a rare luxury after such an intense match.
Santi lay in bed longer than usual. He was staring at the ceiling and replaying moments from the game. His muscles were sore and his legs heavy from the endless runs but he welcomed the ache. It was a reminder that he had given everything.
Eventually, hunger forced him out of bed. He stretched, groaning as his body protested, then grabbed a hoodie and made his way to the cafeteria.
The scene was much different than usual. Instead of the rushed energy before training, players sat lazily, laughing and eating at their own pace. It was one of those rare days where they could simply be kids again.
Toro was already at the table, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head and slowly chewing on a piece of toast.
"Look who finally woke up," he teased as Santi sat down with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and fruit.
Charlie smirked. "Yeah, man, we thought you weren't gonna make it."
Santi rolled his eyes, reaching for his orange juice. "I needed the sleep. My legs are dead."
Luis Solano, their midfield maestro and captain nodded in agreement. "Same, bro. That game was insane."
Alejandro Ramirez, their goalkeeper, was watching highlights from last night's match on his phone. He suddenly turned the screen toward Santi. The moment of his free-kick goal played in slow motion.
The perfect dip. The ball curling past the wall. The Chivas keeper stretching desperately but getting nowhere near it. The net rippling as the ball slammed into the top corner.
Charlie whistled. "Damn. That's a work of art."
Santi smirked, sipping his juice. "Felt good."
They spent breakfast reminiscing about the match, laughing over close calls, reliving the intensity and analyzing what they could have done better. These moments; the camaraderie and the shared memories were what made the grind worth it.
Even though it was a rest day, Santi couldn't stay still. His mind wouldn't allow it.
After letting his food settle, he grabbed his ball and headed to the training ground.
Felipe was already there, juggling a ball effortlessly and his sharp eyes watching Santi with a knowing smirk.
"Knew you'd show up," Felipe said, flicking the ball onto his shoulder and balancing it there.
Santi grinned. "I can't sit around all day."
They kept it light but purposeful with small dribbling exercises, controlled passing and footwork drills.
Santi practiced the La Croqueta, shifting the ball quickly between his feet to escape an imaginary defender. He worked on his step-overs, making sure his feints were sharp and believable. Then, the Elastico, a move he had admired from Ronaldinho, flicking the ball outward before snapping it back inside.
Felipe watched carefully. "Make sure your movement isn't just flashy because every trick needs to have a purpose."
Santi nodded, focusing on fluidity over flair.
After about an hour, Felipe patted his back. "That's enough for today, kid. Enjoy the rest of your day."
Santi exhaled and nodded, finally letting himself relax.
After their light training session, the team had the rest of the day to themselves. For once, there were no drills, no tactical meetings, just time to unwind and enjoy each other's company.
The cafeteria was loud with laughter, forks clinking against plates as the boys finally let loose. It wasn't often they got to eat without worrying about an upcoming match or a demanding practice session.
Toro, as usual, was the loudest at the table. "Charlie, you seriously thought that outside-the-boot pass was gonna work?" he said, shaking his head while taking a bite of his sandwich.
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Man, if Luis had actually made the run, it would've been a masterpiece."
Luis smirked. "Or maybe you just can't pass."
Everyone erupted in laughter and Charlie threw a crumpled napkin at him.
Santi sat back, enjoying the moment. These were the guys he trained with every day, the ones who pushed him to his limits. They weren't just teammates, they were family.
After lunch, they headed to the lounge, where a big-screen TV was already showing a Premier League match.
Santi sank into one of the couches, his eyes fixed on the screen as Manchester City played against Liverpool.
Alejandro leaned forward, studying the goalkeepers. "That positioning is crazy," he muttered, watching as the City keeper came off his line to cut out a dangerous attack.
Santi, meanwhile, was locked in on the midfield play. He watched as Kevin De Bruyne picked out a perfect through ball, splitting two defenders with pinpoint accuracy.
"That's the kind of vision I need," Santi said under his breath.
Toro glanced at him. "What?"
Santi smirked. "Everything."
Toro smirked.
Later in the evening, dinner was relaxed, a rare moment where the conversation wasn't about football.
Some of the guys talked about their families back home, others about their dreams beyond the academy.
Felipe sat at a table nearby, watching with quiet pride. He didn't say much but he could tell the boys were growing. Not just as players but as men.
Later that night, the dormitory was quieter than usual. After a long day of bonding, eating and watching football, the boys finally settled into their rooms. Some were still chatting softly, but most were lying in bed, exhausted from both the physical toll of their last match and the mental strain of always having to prove themselves.
Santi sat on the edge of his bed with his phone glowing in the dim room. He scrolled through highlight videos of his favorite players; Cristiano Ronaldo striking a perfect knuckleball, Ronaldinho dancing past defenders, Neymar using his quick feet to escape tight spaces, Pelé's effortless movement off the ball and Messi's genius.
He had watched these videos a thousand times but tonight, they felt different. He wasn't just admiring them; he was studying them.
Across the room, Toro lay on his bed with arms folded behind his head. He turned his head slightly. "You're really addicted to that stuff, huh?"
Santi smirked but didn't look away from his screen. "If you want to be the best, you have to learn from the best."
Toro chuckled. "I respect that. Just don't try to do all of Neymar's tricks tomorrow and forget to pass."
Santi laughed. "Maybe one or two."
A comfortable silence settled between them. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teammates in the hallway and the distant hum of the city outside.
Then Toro spoke again, his voice quieter this time. "You ever think about what's next?"
Santi finally looked up. "What do you mean?"
Toro shrugged. "After this. After the academy, after all of this competition. Do you ever think about what happens if you don't make it?"
Santi hesitated for a moment. He had spent his whole life chasing this dream but he knew that not everyone made it. The reality was brutal.
But then he thought about his parents, his younger sister, Lupita and about Felipe, about everything they had sacrificed for him to be here. He couldn't afford to think about failure.
"I don't have a choice," he said finally. "I have to make it."
Toro studied him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah… I get that."
A few beds away, Charlie yawned loudly. "Man, can we save the deep talk for tomorrow? Some of us are trying to sleep."
Santi and Toro laughed. The room slowly quieted and one by one, the players drifted off.
Santi lay back, staring at the ceiling. His mind was racing with thoughts of the future but for now, all he could do was prepare for tomorrow.