The Next day after school, I swaggered into the club training session. As I entered, my teammates greeted me like I'd just walked in from a two-week expedition in the jungle. "Oh! Niyog, you are finally here!" Fazil exclaimed, clearly not aware of the subtle art of timing.

 "You're the last to appear, as always," Arun chimed in, doing his best impression of a smug tortoise.

 I rolled my eyes. "Are you trying to gang up on me again?" I asked, half-joking, half-actually-seriously-considering-a-career-in-wrestling.

 "Yeah, it's just too fun to bully you, lol," Sachin laughed, probably envisioning me dramatically storming off in defeat.

 "Ha ha, very funny," I replied, trying to hide my annoyance while plotting my revenge. But I had to admit, nothing brought a team together quite like good-natured ribbing… even if it sometimes felt like a full-on roast.

When the coach announced that we would be playing an 8 vs 8 training match, a mix of anticipation and dread washed over me. You see, the team was pretty much set, and while I felt confident about my other teammates—Sachin in goal, Alan and Raees holding down the defense, Neeraj patrolling the midfield, and Ishan up front—there was one player I wasn't thrilled about sharing the field with: Amir. He had an infamous reputation for being a ball hog, often ignoring the open men around him, and I couldn't shake the feeling that his individualistic style would mess with our chances of working cohesively as a team.

The game kicked off with an electric atmosphere, and the opposition team wasted no time in asserting themselves, making the first touch of the match. The ball traversed the field until it found Fazil, who was positioned on the right wing. With skillful feet, he began to dribble, drawing Amir into a hasty challenge. Fazil executed a crafty stepover, deftly bypassing Amir's reach. However, Amir wasn't about to give up that easily; he regained his footing and began to chase Fazil, determined to reclaim possession. Meanwhile, I signaled to Neeraj to keep a watchful eye on Arun, positioning myself strategically as Fazil approached the penalty box. He had the opportunity to cross, but with me closing in, he opted for a feint to the left. I anticipated his move, intercepted decisively, but the ball found its way to Amir, setting off another chain of events.

"As soon as Amir received the ball, he darted away, leaving Rithvil, an opponent, in his dust. Surrounded by Vishnu and Kiran, both closing in swiftly, I fully anticipated Amir to cling to the ball, completely ignoring any chance to pass. After all, this was the same Amir known for prioritizing his own glory over teamwork. But to my astonishment, in an uncharacteristic moment of selflessness, he actually passed the ball directly to me. That single act sent ripples of confusion through the opposition. Who would have thought that Amir, the player renowned for his relentless solo runs, would share the ball? It felt surreal. I sensed an opening just outside the box, with only the goalkeeper standing between me and glory."

As I got ready to kick the ball, I spotted Deeraj charging in from the flank. If I took the shot, it wouldn't just bounce off the Goalkeeper; it might accidentally wind up in our own net—talk about a nightmare! In a moment of panic, I redirected my kick into a pass for Ishan instead, holding my breath like I was trying to swim without water. Ishan, seeing Amir all alone, launched the ball back to him. You could feel the tension in the air as Amir slipped into the penalty area, with a defender chasing him like he owed him money and the goalkeeper advancing aggressively

Then it happened—a moment of sheer brilliance. Amir executed a perfect cutback pass right to me, an unexpected opportunity I couldn't afford to miss. Time seemed to slow as the ball approached, and in one fluid motion, I struck it with precision, sending it past the outstretched hands of the Goalkeeper and into the net. The eruption of cheers from our team drowned out everything else. I had scored.

Just after we resumed the match, the tension on the field was palpable. Arun had the ball, and with a swift burst of energy, he made a run that left the defenders scrambling. As Alan rushed forward, Arun timed his pass perfectly to Fazil, who was ready for the chance. Without missing a beat, Fazil crossed the ball into the penalty box, and there stood Joby, towering at six-foot-five. The defenders, dwarfed by his height, were unable to clear the ball, and in a breathtaking moment, Joby scored with a precise header that sent the ball soaring into the net. 

With the scoreboard reflecting that surge of excitement, both teams elevated their game, fiercely competing despite being from the same squad. Each player was determined to secure more than just a training victory; there was pride on the line. Every pass became more calculated, every sprint more intense, as we all slipped into a rhythm that highlighted our collective skills. The atmosphere was electric, a swirling mix of camaraderie and competition, and as the minutes ticked away, it became clear that neither side would let another goal slip by. The match ended with the score holding steady, but the intensity of our play served as a reminder of the preciously competitive spirit that resided within us all.

After the dust settled, I turned to Amir to compliment him on his impressive performance. The warmth of my words hung in the air, but Amir's reaction caught me off guard. He looked shy and somewhat embarrassed, as if he had never received praise before. In that fleeting moment, I realized how important those affirmations can be. As he managed a bashful smile, it marked the beginning of a budding friendship.