The cafeteria buzzed with the usual pre-training energy as the players lined up for their meals. The smell of scrambled eggs, toast and fresh fruit filled the air. Some players kept their plates light, eating just enough to feel energized without being weighed down. Others, like Toro, stacked protein onto their trays, readying themselves for the long session ahead.
Santi took a balanced plate of eggs, avocado toast, a banana and a protein shake. He knew his body needed the right fuel to keep up with the intensity of training. Across the table, Diego was stretching his legs under the bench while munching on a piece of toast, already preparing himself mentally for the session.
Herrera walked in, his sharp eyes scanning the room. He didn't have to say much; his presence alone was a reminder that today wasn't going to be easy. Felipe followed, a small smirk on his face as he grabbed a coffee.
"Eat up, boys," Herrera said, his voice calm but firm. "Today, we test ourselves."
The room grew quieter because everyone knew what that meant.
The sun was just starting to rise as the team stepped onto the field. The crisp morning air quickly turned warm as they began their first exercise jogging around the pitch.
Santi, always eager, was near the front of the pack, his strides were smooth and controlled. Toro and Ríos ran side by side, already in competitive mode and pushing their pace. Solano, the captain, jogged at an even rhythm, keeping the team in sync.
After several laps, Herrera signaled for them to switch to sprinting drills.
"Explode! Drive with your legs!" Felipe shouted from the sideline as they sprinted in short bursts, stopping and going again. The field became a blur of motion, every player pushing their limits.
Santi's legs burned and his lungs worked overtime but he welcomed the pain. This was how champions were made.
With their legs warmed up, Herrera split them into small groups for one-touch passing drills. The challenge was to move the ball quickly without hesitation. Santi partnered with Diego, their chemistry evident as they fired sharp passes between each other.
Solano barked instructions in the midfield, demanding precision, speed and awareness.
Felipe watched closely, nodding in approval whenever a sequence was executed perfectly.
Now came the part Santi loved most, the dribbling drills. Cones were laid out, marking tight spaces where they had to navigate through with the ball at their feet.
Santi took on the challenge head-on. As usual, he applied some of the skills he knew, the La Croqueta, Elastico and Step-Overs. He executed each move with intent, imagining defenders closing in on him.
Toro wasn't about to make things easy, though. During the one-on-one drill, he stepped up as a defender against Santi.
Santi feinted left, then right, attempting to slip past him but Toro matched his movements perfectly. The two battled fiercely, neither willing to give an inch. Finally, with a clever nutmeg, Santi slipped the ball through Toro's legs and sprinted past him.
"Damn it," Toro muttered, shaking his head with a grin.
Herrera chuckled from the sideline. "Good battle but remember, in a real game, there's no second chance."
With tired legs but sharp minds, they moved on to the final part of training, the finishing drills.
Diego and Santi paired up again, taking turns and receiving passes from the midfield before firing shots at goal. Ochoa, one of the best strikers on the team, took his turn, unleashing a thunderous shot into the top corner.
Not wanting to be outdone, Santi focused as Solano played him a through ball. One touch to control, then he unleashed a knuckleball strike. The ball swerved unpredictably in mid-air before crashing into the net.
Felipe clapped from the sideline. "That's how you hit it!"
The session ended with free-kicks. Santi took his time placing the ball, closing his eyes for a moment before stepping up. He inhaled and exhaled, then struck the ball cleanly, curling it around the wall and into the net. Ramírez had no chance against such a hit.
Herrera nodded in approval. "You're getting there."
The boys were so exhausted that Herrera ordered, "That's it for today, we play against Tigres tomorrow! It will be a tough match so take a rest and we go tomorrow!"
His eyes locked on Santi. "You know what to do." And just like that he walked away.
Of course, Santi knew what he had to do.
After the session, the boys rushed to the cafeteria. The place was quieter than usual. The exhaustion from the intense morning session had settled in and most of the players were focused on refueling rather than talking. Plates were filled with grilled chicken, rice, vegetables and protein shakes; a necessary mix to rebuild their energy.
Santi sat with Diego, Toro and Solano, slowly eating his food while his mind replayed moments from training. He knew his finishing was improving but he still wanted to be sharper.
Toro, stretching his legs under the table, let out a deep sigh. "If training is this intense today, tomorrow's match is gonna be brutal."
Diego nodded, barely lifting his head from his plate. "Yeah… but that's the point, right? We don't train for fun, we train to win."
Felipe passed by, overhearing the conversation. "Exactly. No shortcuts, boys." He placed a hand on Santi's shoulder. "You looked sharp today but remember, it's not about one good session. It's about consistency."
Santi nodded. He knew that better than anyone.
After lunch, some players went back to their dorms for a nap, while others stayed back to chat.
Felipe led a few players, including Santi, to the recovery room.
Inside, there were ice baths lined up, each one looking equally painful and refreshing. A deep chill filled the air as some of the boys slowly lowered themselves into the freezing water.
Toro dipped a toe in and immediately pulled back. "No way, man. This is torture."
Felipe smirked. "Torture is waking up sore tomorrow. Get in."
Santi clenched his jaw as he stepped in, feeling the icy sting climb up his legs. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. The pain faded slightly as his body adjusted and he reminded himself that this was part of the process.
On the other side of the room, some players opted for foam rolling and stretching. Solano was working with the physio, making sure his legs were loose for tomorrow's match.
After the recovery session, most of the players headed back to their rooms. Santi however, wasn't done yet.
Instead of lying down to rest, he sat at his desk and pulled out his phone. He searched for Lamine Yamal highlights.
He watched as the young Barcelona star took on defenders twice his size, using his quick feet and intelligence to create space. Fearless. That's what Yamal was.
Santi wanted that same energy. That same belief.
He rewound a clip of Yamal cutting inside and curling the ball into the far post. He watched it over and over, studying the movement, the technique and the confidence.
"If he can do it, so can I," Santi whispered to himself.
His eyes burned from fatigue but his hunger wouldn't let him stop. He grabbed his ball, laced up his boots and headed back to the field.