The Greatest of all Time

Coach Johansen's eyes narrowed as he let his gaze roam across the players in the tactics room before continuing.

"As you can see, we're only missing that little bit of extra effort in our gameplay," the coach said, his voice lowering. Your teammate is in trouble, but you don't give a damn. You shamelessly leave everything to him. What the hell!?"

"We're playing as professionals in the top-tier league in Norway, but we're not putting in the necessary extra effort. We're not defending as a team, and because of that—we concede a lot of shitty goals very often. Where are the levels of concentration that are the hallmark of a pro player?" He intoned, starting to move around the room.

"Where is the focus required to win the league or the double? Because in the last three games, it looked like you were merely playing for fun. But this is not just playing. You guys should know this."

"You have to remember that you're regulars of the best team in Norway." The coach's words came out of his mouth slowly but steadily as his tone turned stern. "You're paid highly to win games. You're not supposed to lose against a team like Sandnes Ulf. You're not even allowed to lose against a team like FK Haugesund, not even Molde. All those clubs don't have a rich history like ours." He paused as if wishing for his words to first sink into the heads of his players.

The coach sighed, shaking his head. "I have already said enough about our past performances," he said, moving back to the front of the room. He picked up his notebook from the desk nearby. "We shall now focus on our future performances. What's the way forward? That's what I'll talk about in a moment." He flipped his notebook open.

"First, I'll start by announcing the squad for the Norwegian Cup second-round game against Strindheim on Wednesday."

"Eehh!" A round of exclamations went off across the whole room. Even Zachary, who had attended the meeting for the first time, was surprised. Customarily, the coaches would announce the match squad on the night before the game. The game against Strindheim was on Wednesday, yet the coach had decided to name the line-up on a Monday morning. That was an unusual occurrence.

"Don't act too surprised," Coach Johansen said, raising a hand to indicate that he needed silence. The players quietened down immediately. "I'll be giving an opportunity to several players who haven't had any first-team football this season. So, I need to announce the squad today. That way, we can refine our game plan and tactics with the selected players during the light training session tomorrow."

"You guys must understand that it's always difficult for me to choose the starting line-up," the coach continued in a solemn voice. "I hate leaving talented players out of the squad."

"But I still have to choose the starting eleven and the seven more on the bench every single game. I understand some of you may have to stay home or watch the match in the stands. I know that you feel bad because of that. Maybe, you might think I've got a bias against you if I don't regularly name you as part of the squad."

"But all I ask is for you to believe in me," the coach said, his tone solemn. "As long as you work hard and perform to the best of your abilities, even if you're an under-19 player, you'll get your chance at one point in time. I work on only one principle: rewarding hard work and merit. So, don't feel down when you find your name missing from the squad. Instead, work harder, try to make it on the squad against Aalesunds FK on Saturday." He let his gaze roam across the players. "Okay?"

"Yes, coach," the players replied, more or less in unison.

"Okay, I'll name the squad now," he said, moving towards the screen.

Zachary felt his heart start to race as Trond Henriksen, the assistant head coach, pointed the remote at the screen. Immediately, eleven white shirts arranged in a 4-3-3 attacking formation appeared on it. But they didn't have any names.

Zachary felt sweat beading on his forehead as every nerve in his body tingled with anticipation. The coach's promise didn't count much for him. He would only relax when he saw his name with his own eyes on the official match squad.

"This will be an away game," Coach Johansen begun, eyes narrowing as he took a casual glance at his open notebook. "But we shall still play using our default 4-3-3 attacking formation."

"In the goal, we have No.12 Lund Hansen."

"The center-backs will be No.4 Tore Reginiussen—the captain, and No.24 Stefan Strandberg. The left-back: No.14 Inge Höiland. The right-back: No.19 Brede Moe. That will be our defense."

"In midfield, we shall have three players as usual. Only this time around, we'll be giving a chance to our younger squad members. We'll field one defensive midfielder to form a triangle with the right and left midfielders." He pointed at the screen to explain his point.

"The defensive midfielder will be No.20 Ole Selnaes. Left-midfielder: No.21 Fredrik Midtsjö. Right Midfielder: No.33 Zachary Bemba."

Zachary let out a breath of pent-up air on hearing his name. He had finally made it onto the squad after waiting for more than two months.

At that moment, he could hardly contain the happiness that streaked through him like a comet. He had been under the impression he would be on the bench, but Coach Johansen had surprised him and named him as part of the starting eleven.

He was intoxicated with joy. Had he been on his own, he could have jumped around and danced like a little kid that had just seen Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. But, since he was surrounded by teammates, he maintained a poker face and continued listening to the coach's instructions.

"We will use three forwards; two on the flanks and one through the center as our spearhead," the coach continued while pointing at the respective positions on the screen. "The left-forward will be No.13 Jaime Alás. Right-forward: No.10 John Chibuike. Center-forward: No.9 Nicki Nielsen. Those are the starting eleven."

Zachary was surprised once again. The coach had left most of the first-stringers out of the starting eleven. Only Nicki Nielsen, Tore Reginiussen, and Lund Hansen remained in the starting line-up for the Wednesday match.

"On the bench," the coach continued after a moment. "We have No.39 Jacob Storevik, No.3 Mikael Dorsin, No.2 Cristian Gamboa, No.42 Mix Diskerud, No.8 Borek Dockal, No.11 Tobias Mikkelsen, and No.17 Tarik Elyounoussi. That's it for the line-up. We'll refine the details tomorrow."

"DING"

No sooner had the coach finished naming the squad than the system notification sounded in Zachary's mind.

"The system has detected that the user has been added to the squad of a Norwegian Football Cup match," the apathetic feminine voice of the AI sounded in his mind soon after.

"Conditions for a long-term serial system mission have been met."

"The 2013 Norwegian Football Cup Serial Mission initiated successfully."

"Does the user wish to view the details of the mission right now?"

"Negative," Zachary replied mentally right away. He would open the system interface once he got back to his apartment. He didn't want to draw unnecessary attention by focusing on the system screen instead of the coach.