"Come on, Adam! You got this!"
"I know, Alan! Mr. Charles said I can definitely do it! One day, I'll be a star earning thousands of pounds a week! By then, those sneakers you like will be nothing more than my daily wage!"
"Can I ask for a new tracksuit too?"
"Of course!"
Next to the training ground at Luton Town's youth academy, two young Black boys, one slightly older than the other, stood with their arms crossed, speaking loudly as if no one else were around. Their conversation drew laughter from those nearby.
The two boys looked almost identical—likely brothers, both with curly hair. The older one, Adam, wore a loose red training vest that hung off his thin frame, paired with oversized shorts that reached past his knees, making him look comically out of place, like a kid playing dress-up.
On the sidelines, Luton Town's first-team manager, Ethan, watched the scene unfold. He turned to his youth academy director, Steve Powell.
"Who are they?" Ethan asked.
Steve Powell seemed unsure and called over a youth coach.
"They're here for a trial, sir!"
"A trial?"
"Yes, they were recommended by Mr. Charles, one of our part-time scouts."
Steve Powell nodded in understanding and explained to Ethan, "Mr. Charles is a PE teacher at a local secondary school in Luton. We have a scouting agreement with him—if we sign a player he recommends, he earns a commission, anywhere from £100 to £1,000."
Ethan nodded. In England, part-time scouts like Charles were everywhere.
He was curious to see how young talent was identified at the academy level. Watching the session unfold, he noticed the impact his presence had on the young players. They were trying too hard to impress, turning what should have been a structured match into an individual showcase. Forwards were refusing to pass, trying to dribble through the entire defense on their own.
Ethan shook his head slightly and turned to one of the youth coaches.
"When do the trialists usually get their chance?"
"Normally, we sub them in for the second half."
Ethan glanced back at the disjointed play on the pitch. "This match is already meaningless." He gestured towards the field.
Steve Powell sighed in agreement. Football is a team sport, but these kids were treating it like a solo audition.
"Let them go in now," Ethan instructed.
Since the head coach had spoken, there was no debate. Soon, Adam, the trialist, was preparing to enter the game.
A small group of players gathered around, watching Adam with amused expressions. He didn't look like a footballer—short and skinny, more like a kid from the estates than a serious athlete. Could someone like him really compete against the physically dominant players in the academy?
Even the youth coach beside Ethan didn't seem optimistic.
"What do you think, Tom?" Ethan asked.
Tom Karadok, the youth coach, eyed the trialist as he changed into his kit.
"He's too small, sir. And too light."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. Adam certainly didn't look the part—his movements were awkward, and he couldn't have been more than 1.5 meters tall.
"How old is he? What's his height?"
Tom glanced at his notes. "Born in 1991. He's 17 years old. 166 cm tall."
Ethan looked at the name on the trialist's form.
Adam White.
"A winger?"
"Yes, according to the notes. But he's never had any formal football training. At 16, that's really late to start a professional path. If Mr. Charles hadn't recommended him, he wouldn't have even gotten this trial. Honestly, I think it's a waste of time. Players without academy experience by this age almost never make it."
Ethan nodded thoughtfully. The path from youth academies to professional football was brutal—most kids never made it. And at a lower-league club like Luton, it was even harder to develop stars. The top clubs had already scouted the best young talent long before they reached this level.
Still, Adam White was about to get his chance.
Since he was a winger, he was sent straight to the flank.
While taking advantage of the timeout, Tom gathered his players for a quick training session. Once the game resumed, the team's performance improved significantly. No player recklessly dribbled into dead ends or refused to pass like before.
Adam Walter soon found himself with an opportunity to receive the ball.
A quick diagonal pass was played behind him, arriving at pace.
Adam White lifted his foot and controlled the ball smoothly with the back of his foot.
Ethan's eyes lit up.
Great first touch!
But moments later, Adam lost possession. Facing an approaching defender, he attempted a feint but failed to beat his man. Losing his balance, he stumbled and fell to the ground.
Laughter erupted from the sidelines.
Embarrassed, Adam scrambled to his feet and tried to recover, but after only a few steps, he tripped again.
Tom shook his head slightly.
His balance is terrible.
Adam's overall performance was disappointing. He struggled in duels, getting outmuscled easily due to his slight frame. His ball control was decent, but his acceleration wasn't enough to escape defenders. Each time he tried to hold off a challenge, he lost his footing.
The first half soon came to an end. Head down, Adam walked towards the sidelines.
This trial seems to be over.
Tom thought the same as he shut his notebook.
On the sidelines, two black boys quietly packed their things, seemingly aware that their trial had ended in failure.
Ethan, however, felt a twinge of regret. Adam had shown glimpses of brilliance, yet on the pitch, he seemed awkward and uncoordinated. Normally, a player with such good ball control should have solid balance as well.
"Show me his profile," Ethan said.
Tom hesitated for a moment but handed over the information card.
Adam White
Strengths: Quick, technically skilled
Weaknesses: Street football background, poor tactical awareness
Fast?
Ethan stroked his chin. That didn't match what he had just seen.
He glanced at Adam, who was slinging a worn-out khaki backpack over his shoulder.
Not particularly tall, but his feet are wide...
Wait a minute!
"Hold on!!" Ethan suddenly exclaimed.
"Adam… your trial isn't over yet." He turned to Tom.
"Get him a new pair of boots."