Proficiency Soared

Proficiency Soared

"Beep! Beep! Beeeep—!"

A little over ten minutes later, Head Coach Kevin blew the full-time whistle, gathering all the players around him.

Maël finished his cooldown stretches and walked over to stand beside Gilbert.

"The quality of the match was good."

Kevin looked satisfied as he encouraged them. "You could see a certain level of tactics and technique, and there were very few unreasonable decisions on the ball.

"Several of the new signings in particular were a pleasant surprise."

As he said that, his gaze swept over the new signings, lingering on four of them, including Maël and Gilbert.

"I hope that in the new season, everyone can work with one heart and one mind and strive for excellence in the league."

After Kevin finished his rousing formalities, he flipped open his tactics board. "Next is the preseason training schedule, along with the rough training arrangements during the season.

"For preseason training, we'll train six days a week, nine sessions in total, with Sundays off.

"During the season, the weekly training schedule and number of sessions will vary, but there will be fewer than nine sessions. On the morning after every league match, we'll do recovery training, then rest that afternoon and all of the following day."

After speaking, he closed the tactics board and let out a long breath. "I'll discuss the detailed schedule with the coaching staff and draw it up. It'll be handed out later."

Maël's brows shifted slightly, doubt and confusion rising in his heart. He saw the same expression on most of the people around him.

Nine sessions a week in preseason, and fewer than nine a week during the season? That training intensity could be said to fall far short of the preparation standards of a professional team. It was enough to call it lax.

When they were at Arsenal Youth Academy, they had twelve training sessions every week. How had they moved up to an adult team with a higher competitive level, only for the workload to drop instead?

"Rest tomorrow. Official training starts the day after."

Kevin clasped his hands behind his back and simply said goodbye. "All right, good luck, everyone. Training dismissed!"

He left with several assistant coaches. Gareth Speed and Joelson exchanged a deep look, then eventually followed, leaving the players behind.

"Is that old bastard trying to win the veterans back over?"

As soon as he was gone, one of the older players in the squad looked indignant and cursed under his breath. "Last season he nearly trained us to death, and this season he's acting like some nice guy again."

"Haha, who's still going to listen to him?"

Someone shook his head and said with satisfaction, "Most of the good players are gone. Now all that's left is us defeated soldiers, plus a few kids. This is his karma!"

Waves of complaints rang out. Most of the older players showed their hatred for Kevin.

"I hope he keeps what he said. If he couldn't take us up last season, he'd never coach again!"

"I think he already doesn't want to do this job anymore. He's just coasting for a while at the end, waiting for the club to pay him off."

"Old dog! He caused two players to suffer severe knee effusion, permanently damaging their knee function and forcing them off the pitch."

After one match, they had mostly accepted the new players. Since they were all family now, there was nothing they couldn't say.

Maël listened to their curses and gradually got a sense of the conflict between Kevin and the players, gaining a rough understanding in his heart.

Kevin had probably been far too harsh on the players last season and had damaged quite a few of their bodies, only constantly dangling the promise of promotion in front of them to coax everyone into working hard.

In the end, promotion failed, everything collapsed across the board, and the anger the players had built up for so long erupted all at once? This matter... Maël didn't join in, nor did he ask. He didn't know the whole truth, and the more he said, the more likely he was to make a mistake.

In any case, it was already a conflict from last season and had no obvious connection to him. He just needed to do what he was supposed to do.

Fewer training sessions was not a bad thing for him either. It meant he could take out more time to grind proficiency.

"Evans."

A voice rang out. Evans and several players walked over, reaching out to him and introducing themselves.

"Janu Hans."

"Lotton. I said it earlier."

"Bologanovic. Good cooperation on that headed goal."

Maël shook hands with them, gave brief hugs, and introduced his own name as well, counting as a first acquaintance with his teammates.

This was definitely a pretty good start.

Evans and Janu Hans were probably both longtime players on the team.

After just one training match, several of them had taken the initiative to befriend him, which proved that his performance had indeed been eye-catching.

Gilbert had also joined a small group within the red team's camp, chatting and laughing with his teammates, fitting in well.

As the two walked home, they looked at the bustling streets, then at the crowds coming and going, and their hearts suddenly felt open and bright, as if there were no difficulties left in the world.

"Maël, do you feel like everything's happening really fast?"

Gilbert had both hands in his pockets, his head lowered as he smiled. "Especially you. You're improving like a rocket. I suddenly can't see where your endpoint is anymore."

"I can see it."

Maël puffed out his chest and lifted his chin, joking, "But for now, let's first get a Championship appearance and some stats, plus a market value of three million euros."

The next day, Sheffield United's first training session had not even begun yet.

Maël's own training session had already started. Together with Gilbert, he once again entered mad extra-training mode.

Coach Kevin's preseason training schedule was issued soon after: one session on odd-numbered weekdays, two sessions on even-numbered weekdays, each session lasting ninety minutes.

Maël immediately came up with his own schedule as well: six extra hours of training on odd-numbered weekdays, four extra hours on even-numbered weekdays.

Saturdays and Sundays would depend on his condition and physical state that week.

Long-term, high-intensity training was an enormous test of both body and mind.

After all, people were not machines, not beasts of burden. They could not toil without complaint and devote every waking moment, aside from sleep, to improving themselves.

Maël planned to make full use of his mornings and afternoons for extra training, while spending evenings with Gilbert finding other things to enjoy.

For example, watching matches, watching movies, going out to play nine-ball, or strolling around.

And just like that, the days passed one by one, full and fulfilling.

On July 12, the South Africa World Cup final officially kicked off at Soccer City Stadium.

Neither side scored in regulation time. It was not until the second half of extra time that Fabregas slipped a brilliant pass to Iniesta, who, after a poor first touch, quickly adjusted and hit a Volley into the far corner to seal the winner!

Spain had historically won the World Cup!

"Tsamina mina, eh eh Waka waka, eh eh Tsamina mina zangalewa!!"

In the warm little home on Cherry Street, Maël and Gilbert rarely treated themselves to a couple bottles of beer, threw their arms around each other, and sang the fiery song by Pique's wife, Shakira.

The two of them were even somewhat guilty of putting themselves in the champions' shoes, celebrating together at home as if they had won the title themselves.

"Fabregas!"

Gilbert shouted the name of Arsenal First Team senior Loyal Fabregas, dropped to his knees, raised both hands high, and flushed red in the face.

Maël was also cheering for the blazing World Cup feast, but he did not shout the name of the Spanish midfielder.

Counting the days, the exposure of Fabregas's "Jersey Gate" incident was coming soon, wasn't it? From then on, the Professor and Arsenal would never recover, losing all hope and direction.

He still was not someone involved in those events. This World Cup did not belong to him, and Arsenal did not belong to him either.

The Premier League and the World Cup seemed like another distant world, far beyond reach.

Yet they also seemed to have always been ahead of him, constantly beckoning to him, constantly drawing him to step toward them.

He would work hard little by little, grind his proficiency like mad, and strive to make his future self the protagonist of those top teams and top competitions.

On July 15, the Jersey Gate incident broke! During the championship parade celebration, Arsenal captain Fabregas put on a Barcelona shirt—his body in one camp, his heart in another!

The football world was shocked. Barcelona players Puyol and Pique immediately responded, saying the shirt incident was only a joke meant to make everyone laugh.

Unfortunately, it was pale and powerless.

For several days after that, Gilbert was silent and withdrawn, even losing his appetite.

He tore down every poster related to Fabregas and often cursed up a storm. All the love he had felt before transformed into an even more intense hatred.

On July 31, the two bought several large bottles of drinks and a great spread of delicacies to celebrate at home.

Maël finally welcomed his seventeenth birthday, gaining the qualification to learn to drive and take the driver's license test in the United Kingdom.

Unfortunately, he did not have that idea at the moment—or rather, he did not have the time.

Skill: Muscle lv2

Proficiency: (459/800)

Skill: Curve Cross lv2

Proficiency: (225/300)

Skill: Fluid Bicycle Kick lv2

Proficiency: (198/300)

Looking at the results of his recent efforts, Maël fiercely gulped down a mouthful of his drink, burped, and said, "The season starts next month. I'm going to compete for a starting spot in the Championship!"

By the middle of next month, his Curve Cross and Fluid Bicycle Kick would reach lv3.

According to his own attempts, lv3 skills appeared relatively outstanding even in front of Championship players.

By then, he would step onto the Championship pitch without any suspense!