It had been eight long months already, and still not a single minute of playing time for Kyosuke Kanou in his new team of Amsterdam. He had to hand it to the famous Dutch ball-club though, as he was definitely receiving the best training of his life. Being one of the top teams in the Eredivisie, Amsterdam naturally came equipped with some of the most advanced training gear available, and the best staff as well. Still, nothing could truly capture the feel of a real game for Kanou.
Jyoyo High may not have been as big a club as Amsterdam, but at least there, he could shine. He missed his teammates, his friends, and his family. Although he hated to admit it when he called her, he missed Miki a whole lot as well.
Professional football wasn't just working out for him.
…
Kyosuke, lying flat on his back upon a small hill still fresh with morning dew, stared torpidly up at the chill blue European sky, his arms crossed behind his head in lieu of a pillow. The damp, gray clouds that typified the current season wafted by lazily, thankfully sparing him of an early rain drenching before club practice.
A blade of grass drifted above him teasingly, and his eyes tracked its swaying air-borne dance. He sighed and exhaled lightly. The grass flitted away.
"I should never have left home… What was I thinking? Believing I could make it like my brother before me… He's practically a permanent fixture at the San Siro! The farthest I've ever gotten is substitute…"
Kyosuke thought, his emotions flickering between sadness and frustration. Waves of discontent rolled up against each other within him, and his typical storm of anger began to brew.
"Babel! Rosenberg! That's all the coaches ever want! It's this European elitism, I tell you… If only my name rolled more easily off their things I'd be- Hey!"
A familiar sliver of green landed on his nose, tickling him slightly and suddenly washing calm over his frothing emotions. He sat upright with a jolt and attempted to brush the aberrant grass off his nose, instead fanning it into his nostrils accidentally.
With one explosive motion, Kyosuke sneezed and fell back onto the grassy hill.
"The hell! Jeez, this just isn't a happy day now is it..?" He complained.
He gave a long, agonized moan and covered his face with his hands.
"Hey, Kanou! What are you doing there, you lazy ass? Training begins in less than an hour!"
Kyosuke shot right back up again and hastily began swiping loose dirt and insects off his shirt. One of their assistant coaches was walking purposefully up the small mound of earth he had claimed for his own.
"Well, you see, coach… I was just thinking about my place in this squad and-"
He started, but was cut off by an exuberant clap of hands by his coach. Mr. Krol grinned in the thin, distant way some Europeans do and rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.
"Perfect timing Kanou! You see, three of our top forwards have been sidelined by their national squads for the World Cup, something I'm sure has not happened to you-"
Kyosuke's mouth opened to spit out a volatile combination of words but was shut up by the continuing stream of words that Krol was saying.
"So we've decided to put you as our lone forward for the upcoming home match against PSV. Since many of our midfielders are not being tapped by their countries, we'll be switching to a 4-4-2 formation…"
But at the letters PSV, Kyosuke's mind had shut off. A debut entrance? As a starter? At home? Against the single greatest team currently in the Eredivisie? Above him, those damp, gray clouds he was resting under but a few moments ago parted slightly, and a small, ethereal line of silver lining broke through.
…
A few hours and excited intercontinental phone calls later, Kyosuke Kanou was sitting diligently in front of the television set of his modest dormitory room in the famous Stadium De Meer, home ground of Ajax Amsterdam. Onscreen was PSV Eindhoven, his future opponents and the first ever people he would have to compete against as a professional.
Back at Japan, Kyosuke probably wouldn't have been this disciplined. But the lack of active duty and the consequential free time molded him into a slightly more focused student of the game. All the archival tapes he'd been watching as well helped him understand Rodrigo's fixation on the ball-handling skills of Brazilian superstars, and Sakai's hero worship of German goalkeepers.
He was going to devote this night to learning every aspect of his opponents' game- after all match day was almost a week away. He had plenty of time to hone the physical facet of his football.
"Okay then! Let's start with those defensive midfielders, since those are the guys I'm going to blow away first." He remarked eagerly, grinning like a hyperactive kid in an untended candy shop.
Note the fact that his increased discipline has done nothing to lower his self-confidence.
But enough of that. Kyosuke was hooked. The earlier matches of PSV he had watched had been without the team's latest additions and this renovated PSV was proving to be a larger threat than he would have liked.
The PSV Eindhoven of yore was a good team, well-rounded but exceptional in the midfield area. Their central players were the backbone of the organization, stopping attackers and slashing defenders with coordinated passing plays and occasionally raw talent. Now and then their strikers would have spotlight moments and bring it to their opponents all on their own, but mostly, the game of PSV lay in their midfield.
That fact in itself was relatively bad for Kyosuke. This meant he had to stay a little nearer his own midfield for his teammates to be able to thread a ball through without running the risk of losing it to the PSV mids. That meant he had to run past defenders with more time and more vision to prepare against him.
He shook his head quietly. "Well, I'll just have to work a little bit harder then won't I?" He said and laughed cockily. PSV Eindhoven was good, but not invincible- especially in the eyes of a self-proclaimed offensive genius such as himself.
The PSV of late though, was making him think twice.
Kyosuke popped in a DVD containing the debut game of the similarly teenage striker PSV had acquired a little over four months ago. The DVD nearly popped Kyosuke's eyes out. His jaw swung open, and he stared wide-eyed at what he was seeing.
Mateo Gonzalez- Age: 19. Spanish/Filipino descent.
If the defensive midfielders were going to give him some trouble without this guy manning the forward position, he'd be in a world of trouble when he played against them with this Gonzalez kid taking over striking duties.
He was practically self-sufficient! In his first three matches he took no less than a dozen shots on goal (on target even!), broke away from an average of four players every run he took, and even scored two goals! He was like the living embodiment of lightning. It made sense that the PSV fans chanted "Magnum! Magnum!" whenever he appeared on field.
The raven-haired, lanky but not scrawny striker had such terrific power pumping through his legs, making him impeccably fast and viciously powerful. The shooting technique was excellent as well; razor-sharp shots forcing keepers to tough acrobatic saves. Strategy-wise, he was a decent player too, being just as adept with the long curling cross as he was with his tomahawk shots.
Of course, he wasn't a perfect player and was frustrated many times by tactically skilled defenders and midfielders, who exploited his lack of finesse and artful ball-handling. Despite his explosive tendencies for speed and power, Gonzalez also lacked in the stamina department and slowed down considerably in the closing portions of 90 minutes.
"Unbelievable! Here's a guy who might actually give me a run for my money! Too bad he doesn't have my Orange Hill spirit! I'll break him and his teammates down in the stretch…"
Kyosuke thought gleefully, reminiscing of all the times he and Jyoyo brought out their A-game right before games would close; ending them in dramatic fashion. But the images of such a talented youth player on the pitch brought back memories of another kind- Kagami and Tenryu.
Sure they were teammates on the national level, but deep down inside, they were still the fiercest of rivals. He had never gotten the chance to even the score with Kagami and his Tenryu cohorts.
He shook his head and returned his attention to the television screen.
Barely a month after their bargain signing of the Filipino striker, who was proving his worth many times over on the soccer field, PSV decided to recruit more of Gonzalez's teammates from his homeland, as apparently he and two of his old partners had set up quite the offensive attack in a local youth league.
James Kevin De Jesus- Age: 16. Filipino descent.
Pierre Santos- Age: 17. French/Filipino descent.
Now for every deficiency Gonzalez suffered from in ball-handling, De Jesus stepped up with innovative freestyle tricks to get past his defenders. The smaller, tanner De Jesus was brilliantly nimble and creative with his feet, although, as was obvious from his physique, a lot less powerful compared to Gonzalez. On a tactical scale though, De Jesus weighed in better than his forward companion, as he was more accustomed to being the setter of the shot as opposed to its taker. Still, provided the opportunity, he was still a legitimate goal-scoring threat. His quick feet also granted him an extra defensive edge over other players.
Unfortunately, his size meant he was easy to push around and sprint past for the loose ball and often put him on the wrong side of heavy fouls. Also, it was practically impossible, with his height, to head home shots or flick them onto Gonzalez's path for the easy goal.
Kyosuke groaned inwardly. "Great, another person who can let them midfield focus on me… All these stupid recruits… Why do they have to be attackers?"
"Well technically they're not." A voice interrupted his reverie, and Kyosuke's eyes snapped to the open doorway of his humble quarters. The blonde striking pride of the Amsterdam squad, Rosenberg, was leaning against the frame of the doorway, focused casually on the screen.
"Oh hey, Rosenberg… Coach Krol said you were heading back home for World Cup training…"
The fair-haired 24-year old jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a large, precariously filled sports bag. "Forgot some equipment back at the lockers. Saw the lights open at the dorm while heading back." The European striker gave a faint smile. "You do know what time it is?"
Kyosuke scratched the back of his head sheepishly and grinned.
His teammate sighed and raised his hands in surrender. There was nobody in the world like Kyosuke.
"Back to what I was saying…" Rosenberg went, and pointed a finger to a slightly round figure in the back of the PSV midfield. "Anyway, that player there, that's Pierre Santos, a real playmaker. I talked with a Heracles player a month or so ago, and we discussed their 3-0 thrashing at the hands of PSV."
The ball rolled into the pseudo-Frenchman's feet and he began dribbling it down the center field. The speed wasn't impressive, but his touch on the ball was golden. A well-timed fake sent his opponent in one direction and Pierre Santos in the other, granting the half-Filipino, half-French midfielder an easy wide-open lob to his smaller compatriot upfront.
"That Gonzalez kid, the one they call the Magnum, was absent that game. Slight ankle injury if I'm not mistaken… Still, PSV blew Heracles out of the water. Their midfield was classic as usual, but that new mid Pierre Santos was outstanding." Rosenberg whistled in awe.
"Can't say if it was beginner's luck or raw talent, but he had a fantastic knack for laying his chips right in front of the other guy… What was his name? The small, really fast one…"
"De Jesus! Jeez, that kid's fast! Still, he's got nothing on my patented Kyosuke power plays! The kid's just too weak too finish." Kyosuke mused, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
"Yeah, well, he scored twice that day. Santos was just giving him opportunities left and right! Beautiful chip passing… Too bad Santos is kind of sluggish with his runs."
Rosenberg shook his head again and said, "Hey, Kyosuke, listen. Don't underestimate PSV Eindhoven all right? We're finally gaining on them on points. Don't let us drop three and fall back again in the race for first spot… Or Babel and I'll kill you when we get back."
Kyosuke laughed confidently once more and a familiar, cocksure gleam shone brightly in his eyes.
"Don't worry! They don't have our secret weapon! Amsterdam team spirit!"
Rosenberg slapped a hand onto his own forehead. "Just when you think he's finally matured."
…
Notes:
Stadium De Meer is real. It's been the home ground of Ajax Amsterdam for 6 decades.
I have no idea if they have a player dormitory with archive footage of their opponents.
Ajax Amsterdam actually has an assistant coach with the surname Krol and a 24-year old blonde striker with the surname Rosenberg. Gonzalez, De Jesus and Santos are obviously non-existent.
I love my country. Don't worry about the nationalities of the fictional players.
They're just small plugs for the (also fictional) wonders of Philippine football.
Heracles and PSV Eindhoven exist.
If you watch football but don't know about PSV- you live in a cave.
PSV Eindhoven really is the current leader of the Eredivisie.
Eredivisie is the actual name of the Dutch Premier League.
San Siro is AC Milan's home ground- Seisuke plays for AC Milan.