c4 - Run, Boy
Maybe in his past life, he had become accustomed to adversity, but now, having been given a second chance, there was no reason to be afraid.
Vardy locked eyes with his opponents, his gaze sharp and unyielding. Though his face was still youthful, there was a fire in his eyes that couldn't be ignored.
"Huh? Interesting…" Manchester United scout Drake Langley muttered to himself, intrigued by Vardy's reaction.
He had expected the young player to shrink under the weight of the taunts, maybe even lose his cool and lash out. But instead, the boy stood his ground, eyes filled with a determination that reminded Langley of England's rising star, Wayne Rooney a teenager who played without fear, challenging men twice his size.
Now fully engaged, Langley leaned forward, eager to see if Vardy could back up that defiance with his performance.
The match resumed, but it was clear that the Steel Team was struggling. Their attack was ineffective, their midfield overwhelmed. Even when they managed to push forward, they rarely posed any real threat.
Vardy remained patient, keenly observing the game while acclimating himself to the changes in his body. He decided to test his acceleration just a small burst at first. Even using only a fraction of his ability, he felt the explosive power surge through his legs, his speed surpassing anything he had ever experienced before.
Before his rebirth, he had always been known for his quickness, but now? If he were to sprint on a track, he was confident he could clock a 100-meter dash in under 11 seconds at just 17 years old, no less. And he wasn't even done growing yet.
As for his ball control and dribbling, he hadn't had the opportunity to test them yet, but something deep in his subconscious told him he wouldn't be lacking in those areas either.
Despite having been on the pitch for five minutes, Vardy had yet to touch the ball. He was practically invisible. Even the Steel Team's coach began to wonder if he had made a mistake by sending him on.
Langley, too, felt a tinge of disappointment. He had hoped Vardy would stand out, but so far, he had been nothing more than a spectator.
"Jamie! What the hell are you doing? Defend! Press them!" The coach's furious roar snapped Vardy out of his thoughts.
He exhaled sharply. Alright, enough waiting. If I'm going to rewrite my story, it starts now.
With that, he took off. His legs felt like they had turbochargers as he sprinted toward the opposition's midfielders. His pressing was relentless, closing down space and forcing rushed passes.
In his past life, he had seen professional players do this all the time relentless pressing, forcing mistakes, creating turnovers in dangerous areas. Even if you only win the ball back once out of a hundred attempts, that one interception could lead to a game-changing goal.
But right now, his opponents weren't taking him seriously.
"Look at this idiot running around! Thinks he's playing for Liverpool?"
"The Steel Team must really be desperate, sending on a headless chicken like this."
"I swear, he has to be related to the coach. No way he earned this spot."
"Either that or he bribed his way in… maybe the coach has a thing for fresh meat, if you know what I mean."
Laughter erupted from both the opposition and the handful of spectators in the stands.
But Vardy didn't care. He knew what he was doing. Modern football demanded high-intensity pressing, and while these guys might not understand it yet, he was already a step ahead.
Langley, however, noticed something the others didn't. Unlike the aimless running of a naive player, Vardy's movements were calculated. He wasn't just pressing randomly he was cutting off passing lanes, forcing errors, disrupting the flow of play.
And then there was his speed.
The brief burst he had shown in his sprint earlier was not something you saw in a typical youth player. Langley knew speed when he saw it, and this wasn't just "quick for his age" this was elite-level pace. If his technical skills were even remotely competent, he was a player worth taking seriously.
Meanwhile, Vardy continued pressing, his rapid closing down making the opposition uncomfortable. While he hadn't yet won possession, his presence alone had slowed down their attack, giving his team a much-needed breather.
The Steel Team's coach, despite his usual cluelessness, noticed this. Perhaps he had made the right call after all. The opposing side was no longer attacking as freely as before.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the Steel Team's defense won back the ball and launched it forward with a desperate clearance. It wasn't a well-placed pass just a hopeful punt upfield.
No one saw it as an opportunity.
The opposition's two center-backs were well-positioned to deal with it, and with only Vardy in the attacking half, there was no real threat.
Even the Steel Team's coach had already turned his attention back to the defensive setup, thinking about how to deal with the next wave of pressure.
But then, Vardy moved.
The moment he saw the ball launched forward, he exploded into action.
His sprint was electric. One second, he was standing in midfield; the next, he was a blur streaking past defenders.
The crowd gasped.
The opposition defenders barely had time to react before Vardy was already bearing down on them, his speed defying everything they thought possible.
Langley's eyes widened.
"What… the hell was that?"