The session continued with relentless energy. Reece Alden took his turn, showcasing a style built on finesse and balance.

He moved through the defenders like water through a sieve, his touches so soft they were almost silent. Then came the power of the other strikers, players who looked to bully their way through the rotations.

From the touchline, Eric Maddox stood with his arms crossed. His eyes moved like a scanner, taking in every detail. He wasn’t just looking at the goals; he was looking at the decisions. He watched how a player reacted when a defender closed the primary lane.

Did they panic? Did they recycle the ball? Did they adapt? In Valencia, the Spanish defenders would be masters of closing those lanes. He needed to know who could think on their feet when the plan went out the window.

Luis Navarro walked over to Noah Perring, who was grabbing a quick sip of water.

"You sure you don’t want another go?" Navarro teased, gesturing toward the starting line. "Can’t have your last one being too easy. I think Kuipers is still waiting for his revenge."

Perring laughed, wiping his mouth. "Nah, I’ll let you take the spotlight this time, Luis. I’ve done enough running for one morning."

"Suit yourself," Navarro said, dropping his water bottle.

Navarro stepped up for the final attempt of the drill. He faced the freshest defenders available. As the whistle blew, Navarro showed why he was the focal point of the attack. He didn’t just run; he dictated the space.

When the first defender tried to close him down, Navarro leaned into him, using his broad shoulders to shield the ball. He spun away with a powerful turn that left the defender stumbling. He repeated the feat against the second, holding the ball under immense pressure before exploding into the box.

Fweeee!

Maddox blew his whistle, signaling the end of the drill. He gestured for the squad to gather around him in the center of the pitch. The players approached, panting, their faces flushed with effort.

"Good work, everyone," Maddox said, his voice calm but firm. "The intensity was high, and that’s what we need. We’re going into tactical drills next, but keep this energy. The season isn’t won in matches, it’s won in training. If you can’t beat your teammates here, you won’t beat Valencia there. Take two minutes. Hydrate."

The players dispersed to the sidelines, the sound of heavy breathing filling the air. Maddox watched them, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction. They were starting to look like a unit.

"Alright, gather round!" Maddox called out after the break.

The players snapped back into a semi-circle. Beside Maddox, Teddy was holding a stack of red and blue training bibs.

"We’re moving into a tactical scrimmage," Maddox announced. "I want to see how the things we’ve been working on in the tactical rooms translate to the grass. This isn’t a kick-about. This is a simulation." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Teddy began calling out names and tossing bibs.

"Blue Team: Noah Perring, Luis Navarro, Ethan Suleiman, Harvey Quinlan, Finnley Mayers, and Freddie Booth," Teddy shouted. This was essentially the core of Maddox’s preferred starting eleven, minus a few defensive pieces.

"Red Team: Myles Garrison, Ishaan Bhatt, Reece Alden, Ollie Pritchard, Noah Mbete-Sekou, Kaiden Shaw, and Luca De Santis in goal."

The players pulled the mesh bibs over their heads. The Red Team looked strong, a mix of creative spark in Bhatt and raw speed in Pritchard.

"We’re running a half-pitch tactical scrimmage," Maddox explained, pointing to the cones marking the halfway line. "Thirty-five minutes. No stoppages. I don’t care about the score as much as I care about the process. This isn’t just about scoring; pay attention to your movement off the ball, your build-up play, your pressing, and your transitions. I want control, not chaos. If I see you hoofing the ball long because you’re under pressure, we’ll start the clock over."

A few players exchanged nervous glances. They knew Maddox meant it.

"Positions!" Maddox barked.

The players spread out across the half-pitch. Luca De Santis took his place in the goal for the Red Team, holding the ball. The Blue Team organized themselves into a compact mid-block, with Navarro and Suleiman leading the line of the press.

"Play!"

De Santis rolled the ball out to Noah Mbete-Sekou. The big defender took a touch and looked up. Immediately, Luis Navarro was on him, closing the angle. Mbete-Sekou didn’t panic; he played a simple pass wide to Kaiden Shaw.

The Blue Team shifted as a single unit. As Shaw received the ball, Ethan Suleiman was already sprinting toward him, cutting off the line to the winger. Shaw was forced to look inside. He found Myles Garrison in the center of the park.

"That’s it. Clean, composed build-up," Teddy muttered from the sideline.

Garrison tried to turn, but Harvey Quinlan was nipping at his heels. The pressure was constant. Garrison was forced to recycle the ball back to his defenders. The Red Team was struggling to find a way through the Blue Team’s organized lines.

Ishaan Bhatt dropped deep, almost between his center-backs, to demand the ball. He was the Red Team’s creative engine. He received the ball and looked to play a direct pass into the feet of Ollie Pritchard.

But Finnley Mayers read the intention. He stepped out of the defensive line at the exact moment the pass was released. With a sharp interception, he stole the ball and immediately looked up.

"Transition! Go!" Maddox shouted.

Mayers fizzed a pass into Harvey Quinlan. The midfielder took one touch to evade Reece Alden’s sliding challenge and turned toward the goal.

On the left flank, Noah Perring had already started his move. He didn’t run straight; he peeled off his marker, drifting into the wide space where the Red Team’s full-back had been caught too high. He raised a hand, signaling for the ball.

Quinlan saw it. He delivered a perfectly weighted ball that skipped across the grass and landed right into Perring’s stride.

"Good movement," Maddox noted, scribbling a quick note on his digital tablet. The timing was exactly what they had practiced in the video sessions.