I Am Jose-Chapter 176 - : The Headache Named Mesquida

Drogba pushed forward with the ball. Although his ball control had never been his strong suit, and it had become his weakest link after improving his finishing ability, he had still been playing football since he was five years old. His fundamentals were solid—at the very least, he wouldn't trip over his own feet after a few steps.

Mathias stepped up to challenge him. Drogba didn't attempt any flashy dribbling moves; instead, he simply nudged the ball to the left and prepared to power his way through with sheer physicality!

As long as the defender didn't poke the ball away on the first attempt, Drogba knew from first-team training that once he got shoulder-to-shoulder with a defender, it was almost impossible for them to dispossess him.

The reason was simple—no defender could physically move him. Once he used his body to pin them to the side, they couldn't get around his massive frame to make a tackle.

Mathias didn't seem like a particularly quick-reacting defender, and Drogba was confident that if he got past the first challenge, it would only be a matter of time before he left him in the dust.

Then he'd show this kid the massive gap between the first team and the reserves.

Drogba's assessment wasn't wrong—Mathias wasn't known for his quick reactions. He didn't even respond to Drogba's initial move. However, his second reaction was surprisingly fast—he turned and stuck to Drogba like glue.

Drogba sneered inwardly. So what if you're sticking to me? If you can't make me lose my balance, it's useless!

In tight marking situations, both attackers and defenders are highly sensitive to shifts in body weight and movement. Drogba soon felt Mathias slightly shift outward—a clear sign that he was about to exert force.

Drogba adjusted his own stance slightly—he wasn't about to let Mathias get a free hit on him. He prepared to counter the impact and send the defender flying!

Time to teach you a lesson—whoever challenges me never ends well!

Both players braced themselves. A split second later, their shoulders collided with a resounding thud!

Drogba had absolute confidence in his strength. His physique had always been monstrous—last time, when Pavón tried to shoulder-barge him, the defender ended up bouncing off and tumbling to the ground while Drogba only staggered briefly.

But this time, Drogba had initiated the impact himself.

The sheer force of the collision even made Drogba momentarily lose balance, which didn't surprise him—after all, whatever force he applied to his opponent, he had to withstand himself. The real question was: who could absorb the impact better?

Drogba managed to stay on his feet. He stumbled slightly but quickly regained his balance.

However, to his shock, Mathias had already recovered and was right back on him!

That meant Mathias had absorbed the same level of impact and regained his balance just as fast—if not faster!

How is that possible?!

Drogba was stunned.

In that split-second of hesitation, Mathias lunged forward, threw himself to the ground, and executed a precise slide tackle—cleanly knocking the ball away from Drogba's feet!

Drogba had been wary of tackles, but Mathias had the advantage of long legs and impeccable timing. In one swift motion, he cleared the ball.

In a one-on-one situation, forcing the attacker to lose possession was as good as winning.

"I won!" Mathias raised both arms in triumph.

The impact from their clash had left him rattled, too, and he was just as amazed by Drogba's strength. So, first-team players really are built differently...

But so what? I still won!

Feeling victorious, Mathias laughed arrogantly, standing with his hands on his hips like he owned the place.

Drogba wanted nothing more than to beat him up, but he was a professional. If he lost on the pitch, settling things with his fists would just be embarrassing.

"Lucky this time. If this were full-contact training, you wouldn't stand a chance," Drogba said through gritted teeth.

"I still won, though! Wahahaha!" Mathias kept laughing obnoxiously.

Drogba could hardly believe there was such a clown in the reserves.

Annoyed, he ignored Mathias and buried himself in training. Mathias, satisfied with his little victory, eventually did the same.

Mathias' individual training focused on footwork drills—pushing his agility to the limit and compensating for positioning flaws with experience. Drogba, on the other hand, honed his finishing, aiming to instinctively locate the goal and take the shot under any circumstance.

Both had clear weaknesses, but if they could refine these areas through training, their overall ability would improve significantly.

Drogba knew his flaws had been pointed out by José. Mathias, too, understood that his specialized training had been personally arranged by José.

At this point, neither knew they shared the same admiration for their coach.

The Headache for Mesquida

When the reserve team's official training began, head coach Mesquida introduced two new players—Drogba and Roa.

Mallorca's reserve team was struggling and dangerously close to the relegation zone. Mesquida hoped that having two first-team members would boost their performances and help them secure crucial points for survival.

In Spain's second division, the primary goal of reserve teams wasn't promotion—it was simply staying in the league to develop young players. Dropping to the third tier was a nightmare. With multiple regional groups, only a fraction of teams could earn promotion, making it a grueling process.

Thus, avoiding relegation was crucial. And with two first-team players joining, things were looking up.

However, to everyone's surprise, Roa was perfectly fine... but Drogba seemed to have an ongoing rivalry with Mathias.

Over the past few months, the entire reserve team had learned Mathias' quirks. He was loud, uninhibited, and completely unafraid of taking charge—even in his first few training sessions, he had been barking instructions at the defense like a seasoned leader.

But he wasn't a troublemaker.

Yet, from the moment training began, Mathias actively sought to mark Drogba, while Drogba deliberately targeted Mathias.

During set-piece drills, the two engaged in constant physical battles, clashing like rugby players. The loud thuds of their collisions made their teammates wince.

Even when one of them was knocked to the ground, they would immediately get up and charge at each other again.

Although there was no outright conflict, something felt off.

Mesquida halted the session and called them over, rubbing his temples.

By all logic, these two should have no prior history. One was recruited from a French club, while the other was a discard from a Spanish youth team. They had no reason to be acting like longtime rivals.

"You two... have no issues, right?" Mesquida finally asked.

"Nope, none at all," Mathias patted his chest. "Didi's great! If I can defend him, I can stop any striker in La Liga."

Mesquida ignored him—he knew Mathias was an absolute clown.

To his surprise, Drogba also shook his head. "My training focus is finishing under tight marking. Damian is a great opponent."

Mesquida sighed. "Fine. Just don't injure each other. If anyone deliberately hurts a teammate, they won't play!"

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"I'd never do that! I'm a good guy!" Mathias slung an arm around Drogba's shoulder.

Drogba twitched but forced a smile. "Yeah... normal training..."

Mesquida had no choice but to let them continue. But in his heart, he made a decision—he had to inform José.

Hearing the report, José was stunned. "Mathias can match Drogba in physical battles? No way."

If true, this was a jackpot. If Mathias could develop properly, Mallorca might not even need to buy an expensive center-back in the future.