The Next Big Thing
Chapter 85: Training Clash

Chapter 85: Training Clash

Training at Derby County had been brutal today, and David had borne the brunt of it. He had been fouled, dragged, and even pulled down more times than he could count, prompting Wayne Rooney to shout and threaten to stop the session twice already.

David sat on the bench, breathing heavily. He had just been fouled again not long ago, but as always, he got right back up. He was a firm believer that football should be a little rough—an outlook he had inherited from his dad, who often complained that fouls in modern football were too soft or unnecessary. That belief had become a part of David’s game on the pitch.

Sure, he knew his teammates had been a little or rather a lot more than rough with him today, but he didn’t care. Whenever he stepped onto the pitch—whether it was a competitive match, a practice game, or even a casual five-a-side—David was determined to give it his absolute best.

After getting back on his feet, David carried the ball to take the free kick himself—a free kick that Rooney had just called. He placed the ball carefully, but before he could prepare, Duane walked over, saying, "Hey, David, let me take it."

David frowned. "I’m the designated taker. Plus, I won the free kick," he replied firmly.

Duane smirked. "Yeah, and I was the taker before you. Seeing as you’re leaving soon and Wayne isn’t playing, I’m taking it." Without waiting for a response, Duane walked backward, getting into position to strike.

The whistle blew, and Duane ran forward seeing the keeper too close to the right side he wanted to take advantage for that and punish him by hitting the ball to the far left. But just as he was about to take the shot, a figure darted in, striking the ball with incredible power. Duane stopped in his tracks, staring as the ball sailed through the air.

It moved with an unnatural curve, bending perfectly as it soared toward the goal. The substitute keeper scrambled, but he didn’t stand a chance. Duane was certain it was going to be a goal—until he heard the sharp clang of the ball smashing against the top left post. The ball ricocheted back into play, leaving everyone stunned.

While the rest of the team refocused on the loose ball, now back in play, a substitute defender quickly secured it and cleared it out to avoid conceding a silly goal. Duane, however, stood frozen, staring at the player who had taken the shot.

It was David. Shaking his head in frustration, David muttered, "Fuck," before turning back toward his position on the right wing.

Duane frowned, calling after him. "Hey, what’s your problem? I was going to take that!"

David didn’t respond. He simply glanced at Duane briefly and continued walking back to his spot. Duane clenched his teeth in frustration, glaring after him.

Before he could say more, Max screamed his name, snapping him out of his anger. Duane sighed, jogging back into position as the ball re-entered play.

The rest of the training match was tough for David. It brought back bad memories—ones he’d tried hard to forget. His teammates refused to pass to him, even when he made perfect runs and created opportunities. No matter how open he got, the ball just didn’t come his way.

The only one who passed to him was Jason. Even then, Jason avoided looking at David after making the pass, as if David was a plague or something

David was tired of the nonsense. His team was playing like amateurs, and worse, they had decided to stop passing to him. Why? Because he got an opportunity any one of them would have jumped at? It was petty, and he wasn’t having it anymore.

As the player who first suggested David should start with the sub team—Aaron—held the ball, David noticed him frantically scanning for a pass. David grinned. It was the perfect moment. He accelerated, closing the gap with lightning speed. Aaron barely saw him coming before David slid in and cleanly stole the ball. Springing to his feet, David smirked, catching Aaron’s frustrated expression as he hit the turf.

Aaron lay there, looking towards Wayne, hoping for a foul. But when no whistle came, he slammed his hand on the ground in frustration, screaming silently about favoritism. David, on the other hand, didn’t even glance back. He was already off, sprinting toward the goal, the ball glued to his feet.

With only two defenders left between him and glory, David’s focus sharpened. The first defender lunged forward, trying to poke the ball away, but David had already anticipated it. He stopped sharply, pulling the ball back, and with a rainbow flick, he sent it sailing over the defender’s head.

"Shit!" the defender muttered as David burst past him.

David veered left, his pace relentless. The defender, desperate not to lose again, tried to grab him, reaching out with both hands. But David, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, shifted right at the last moment, leaving the defender lunging at thin air. With a final twist, David sent the defender sprawling to the ground.

Now in full control of the ball, David let it bounce once before steadying it with a delicate touch. Only the second defender and the keeper stood in his way. David pulled his right leg back, hinting at a powerful strike. The defender slid in with a desperate attempt to block, and the keeper dove to cover his near post.

They were both fully committed.

David, calm as ever, grinned and let the ball drop just a little more. At the last second, he shifted his weight, catching it with his left foot instead and slotting it neatly into the opposite side of the goal.

The ball hit the net, and the first goal of the training match was his. As the keeper sat there, stunned, David allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, a smile tugging at his lips.

This was his response to their pettiness: brilliance on the pitch.

The match was over, but the tension didn’t leave the dressing room. David sat silently at his locker, untying his boots while the rest of the team moved around him as if he were invisible. Not one word, not a glance. Their silent treatment stung, but David kept his head down.

As he looked up briefly, his eyes met with the coach, Wayne Rooney. Wayne gave him a nod, a quiet acknowledgment that said more than words could. David returned the gesture, grateful for even the smallest support. Moments later, he saw Jason heading out of the room, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Without wasting a second, David grabbed his boots and rushed after him.

Outside, Jason was unlocking his car, ready to leave. David jogged over, calling out, "Dude, wait up!" Jason paused, his expression unreadable as David approached.

"How are you, man? Are you seriously not talking to me now?" David asked, his voice tinged with frustration. When Jason didn’t respond, David pressed on, his tone sharper. "Really, dude? You’re mad at me for accepting Manchester United? You literally told me you’d do the same thing!"

Jason finally turned to face him, his eyes hard as he replied, "No, I’m not mad about that. It’s Manchester United, bro. The Premier League! That’s the dream—anyone’s dream."

David felt a flicker of hope and started to speak. "Then why—"

Jason cut him off. "What I’m angry about is you not telling me. You didn’t think I deserved to know?"

David opened his mouth to respond but faltered. Jason shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "That bogus call you made? Saying ’if something happened, what would I think?’ That’s what you call telling me?"

David struggled for words, but nothing came. His silence seemed to be all the confirmation Jason needed. Jason sighed and stepped into his car, pausing to look back at David one last time. "It’s not like we’ve known each other forever, man. Just go live your life, and I’ll live mine. Congrats on Man U, by the way."

Before David could say anything, Jason shut the door and drove off, leaving him standing there.

David stared after the car, his mind racing. He hadn’t known Jason for long, but Jason had been his first real friend here or ever to be honest. Now, it felt like he’d lost that too. The weight of everything—the team’s cold shoulders, Jason’s words, the overwhelming expectations at Manchester United, The argue with his father everything pressed down on him.

As he walked away from the parking lot, his pace quickened. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks as he broke into a jog. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. The ache in his chest was too much to contain.

By the time he reached his apartment, the news had already broken. Across Derby, fans were learning that their rising star, the boy who had played only 14 matches but had become their beacon of hope, was leaving. The headlines were everywhere, the excitement of his signing with Manchester United was shadowed by the disappointment of his departure from his dad and Wayne but that was shadowed by the fury the fans felt after hearing the news

P.S I am still waiting for my first ever gift or golden ticket 🥹 please if you like this book and you can please do thank you so much and more Chapters to come