After the signing ceremony, Maël and the others went to the team's photography studio, put on their new jerseys, and had their photos taken for the new season.
It was a moment filled with laughter. The two of them either put their hands on their hips with serious expressions, or raised a fist high, posing with burning roars; sometimes they even had to imitate actions such as dribbling past people and shooting.
"Hahaha," even though the photographer had reminded them many times, laughter still echoed throughout the room from time to time.
It was as if brothers who spent every day together were called upon by the teacher to answer questions. At first, they could pretend to be serious, but when they made eye contact with you, they couldn't hold back.
By the time they finished all this, it was already one o'clock in the afternoon.
Led by Joelson, they went to the team's cafeteria for their first publicly funded meal.
Then, they went home to pack up and prepare for the intra-squad training match in the afternoon.
Three o'clock in the afternoon, Sheffield first team training ground.
People in jerseys walked in one after another. Some were laughing and joking with two or three friends, while others were alone, leaning towards those who were equally lonely, trying to find a group.
The tense atmosphere began to spread from this moment on. Everyone knew what this training match meant for the new season.
Maël and Gilbert arrived together, and seeing that training hadn't started yet, they took the football and did some basic passing training around the area to warm up their feet.
Before long, a tall, slightly fat old man with snow-white hair arrived at the field with a tactical board.
Behind him were several assistant coaches, including Gareth Speed in a suit.
Maël knew that this should be the team's coach, Mr. Kevin.
"Bip!"
Kevin blew a whistle, signaling everyone to gather near him, and then began to fiddle with the tactical board in his hand.
When everyone approached, he put down the tactical board and raised his head, saying, "There are many new faces in the team. Let me introduce myself. My name is Kevin Blackwell, and I am the team's head coach.
"Maybe you are not familiar with me yet, but we will be together for a long time, and there will be plenty of time to get to know each other slowly."
As he said this, Maël deliberately observed Gareth Speed's expression and found that he was very calm, just like when they first met.
"Okay, I have investigated all of you."
Kevin picked up the tactical board again, "You all know what we are going to do today, here is the team assignment."
He acted decisively and rarely wasted words: "Formation three-four-three, red bib team, goalkeeper Aksaru, defenders Andy Taylor, Lotton. Midfielders Gilbert, Quinn..."
The red team was quickly assigned, and Maël didn't hear his name, so he thought he should be on the yellow team.
"Good luck."
When parting, Gilbert smiled at him and squeezed his fist: "Don't Bicycle Kick me again."
Maël smiled knowingly, "I'll Bicycle Kick you clean sooner or later."
Thinking of his speed of progress, Gilbert raised his eyebrows and nodded, "I believe that, but not now."
"Yellow bib team."
Kevin's voice continued to sound, hoarse and high-pitched, "Goalkeeper Robert, defenders Karl Way, Chris Morgan, midfielders Janu Hans, Montgomery... Forwards Maël, Evans, Ward!"
After reading all the names, there were still two people left out, sitting on the bench waiting.
Kevin put away the tactical board and waved his hand, "Each team organizes its own warm-up, and we'll start in fifteen minutes."
Maël put on the yellow bib, came to the yellow team's half, and did some simple jogging and stretching, passing and shooting with his teammates.
Throughout the process, there was only communication on the field, and no one said anything in private.
Because there were too many unfamiliar faces, it was more like a trial match than a pre-season training match for a professional team.
Maël had been observing his new teammates, and these people were still in line with his stereotype of the EFL Championship.
Most of them were strong and sturdy, with few agile players.
He thought that their style of play was also a relatively reckless long pass and lob, without the need for too much ball control in the backcourt.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his state during the warm-up, and hoped that he could get a good opportunity.
"Bip bip...!"
When Kevin's two 'ready' whistles sounded, everyone finished warming up and jogged to their positions, waiting for the game to begin.
Maël got the left winger position today, which is his best position. Joelson must have communicated with the club to put him here.
He continued to adjust his breathing, hoping to leave a good first impression on the coaching staff and teammates.
"Beep!"
Finally, Kevin blew the whistle to start the game.
The red team's center forward kicked off from the center circle. Gilbert, in the center position, received the ball, turned around, and kicked it to the side midfielder.
The formations of both sides moved quickly. The defending players moved from scattered positions towards the ball-holding area, compressing space and restricting the opponent's ball movement.
The attacking side tried to widen the space as much as possible to create receiving space.
The game between the two sides was happening at every moment. If one side was slightly careless, they might be caught and given a fatal blow! The higher the level of the game, the higher the cost of mistakes.
"Bang!"
Maël had only run a few steps forward when he saw the opponent's side midfielder make a long pass, sending the ball behind him.
He quickly turned his attention to his own side midfielder who was close to him, and then saw the opponent head the ball down, directing it towards his position.
Maël exploded off the ground, wanting to control the ball before the opponent behind him could.
"Shhh!" But he didn't expect the opponent to slide tackle him from behind, kicking the ball out of bounds and knocking him to the ground at the same time.
Since the person did touch the ball while tackling, the referee, coach Kevin, did not blow the whistle. He believed that this kind of confrontation was normal in the EFL Championship.
"Are you okay, kid?"
A clear voice came. Maël looked up and saw the opposing midfielder who had just tackled him, reaching out his hand towards him: "Get up."
There was no other meaning in the other person's eyes, as if he didn't think there was anything wrong with it.
Maël grabbed his hand, stood up, and ran back to his position.
Is this the pace of confrontation in the EFL Championship? He swallowed, adrenaline rushing, and a surge of strength filled his body, a primal desire for battle.
"Bang!"
After his team's throw-in, the ball quickly moved from the left to the right, and then another long pass was lobbed towards his side.
Unsurprisingly, Maël didn't win the header, and the ball flew directly out of bounds.
He waved to his teammates to apologize, then turned around, staring intently at the opposing side midfielder who was about to throw the ball in, his attitude excited.
The opposing side midfielder also noticed this and deliberately chose a position away from Maël when throwing the ball in.
"Mine!"
As a result, Evans, the yellow team's center forward lurking in the middle, suddenly rushed out and poked the ball away in front of the red team's midfielder, controlling it on the wing.
Maël reacted quickly. Seeing Evans steal the ball, he sprinted towards the center position where Evans had just been.
There, because of Evans' run, was an open space.
"Here!"
After running to the position, he had just shouted when he saw Evans' accurate pass arrive at his feet.
Glancing at the goal, he flicked the ball to the right.
Now!
"Bang!!"
All the tension and excitement turned into strength and was poured into the football in front of him.
Maël gritted his teeth and swung his leg, unleashing an extremely violent instep shot, the football whistling towards the near corner of the goal.
"Don't..." Gilbert, the red team's midfielder, wanted to remind his teammates not to give Maël an unpressured shooting environment, but he had only said one word when Maël's shot was already on its way.
The angle wasn't particularly tricky, but the force was too great, and the goalkeeper was caught off guard, not yet in the game.
"Swish!" The football hit the net, making a crisp and pleasant sound.
One to zero!
The Yellow Team takes the lead!
"Oh!" Most of the Yellow Team players reacted quickly. The moment the football entered the net, they opened their arms in amazement and rushed towards Maël.
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