Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 211: Training Session

Chapter 211: Training Session

The morning sun cast a soft glow over Udine as AZ Alkmaar’s squad gathered in the hotel dining area for breakfast.

The spread was simple—scrambled eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and yogurt. It was a light setup but enough to fuel them for the session ahead.

Conversations were minimal as the players focused on their plates, and some still shaking off the last traces of sleep.

Benjamin sat with Adam, silently going through his meal while checking his phone. Across the table, Gudmundsson cracked a joke about Italian coffee being too strong, earning a few chuckles from those within earshot.

The mood was relaxed, but everyone knew the real work was about to begin.

After finishing their meals, they boarded the team bus that would take them to a nearby training ground. The ride was short and the streets of Udine passed them by in a blur of old architecture and lively cafés.

A few Udinese fans stood near the entrance as the bus pulled in, some holding up scarves, others recording the moment on their phones.

The players barely acknowledged them, stepping off the bus with focused expressions.

The morning session was designed to be light but purposeful. The staff wanted them to get a feel for the ball, to shake off any stiffness from the flight.

The warm-up began with gentle jogging around the pitch, the cool breeze making it easier to get moving. Then came rondos—quick passing drills in small groups.

Laughter broke out when Overtoom nutmegged one of the younger players. It was a brief moment of levity in an otherwise sharp session.

As the drills progressed, the intensity picked up. The forwards practiced one-touch finishing, refining their movement inside the 18 yard box.

The midfielders focused on quick transitions, shifting from defense to attack in seconds. The defenders worked on positioning, reacting to simulated Udinese attacks.

Benjamin moved with purpose, keeping his touches clean, his passes sharp. He could feel the energy within the squad—this wasn’t just another game. This was Europe. The stage was bigger, the stakes higher.

After an hour and a half, the session wound down. The coaching staff called for stretches, emphasizing recovery. The players gathered in a loose circle, following the instructions as they cooled down.

As they continued, a few AZ Alkmaar Udinese supporters lingered at the gates, watching curiously. Some called out names, hoping for a wave or a nod.

The AZ Alkmaar players barely glanced in their direction, keeping their focus inward. This was business.

The coaches didn’t waste any time setting up the next phase of training before the match scheduled for 7pm in the evening.

Small cones and training bibs were handed out, splitting the squad into two teams of blue and red. It was time for an attacking drill disguised as a scrimmage, and also disguised as a defensive scrimmage for the defenders.

The objective was clear: quick transitions from the back, sharp movement by building an attack from anywhere on the pitch, and clinical finishing from the forerunners.

The red team was led by Adam Maher and Gudmundsson, would play as the attacking side, while the blue team, with Martens and Reijnen, focused on defensive structure and counterattacks from different angles.

As the first whistle blew, the intensity ramped up immediately. Benjamin, who was wearing a red bib, received a quick pass from Adam and turned sharply.

His first touch was smooth, shifting the ball onto his stronger foot before threading a pass into space for Roy Beerens, who sprinted down the right wing.

The blue team reacted fast. Martens stepped in, intercepting before Beerens could latch onto it for a power shot or killer pass, and immediately launched a counterattack.

Reijnen pushed forward, playing a crisp one-two with Marcus Henriksen before sending the ball wide to Overtoom.

The tempo was fast paced, almost match-like. Every pass had a deadly intent to create a goalscoring opportunity, and every run made by the attackers had purpose.

Adam, who was playing for the blue team, picked up possession and scanned his options. He spotted a gap between the red team’s midfield and defense and threaded a pass through to Aron Johannsson.

The striker took a touch and fired at goal, but Esteban Alvarado reacted quickly, getting down to parry the shot away.

The rebound fell to Benjamin, who wasted no time in switching gears. With a quick glance up, he saw Berghuis making a run.

A sharp touch forward and a perfectly weighted pass later, Berghuis was through on goal.

One-on-one with the keeper, he kept his composure and slotted it past Alvarado into the bottom corner.

"Vamos!" Berghuis pumped his fist as the red team celebrated the move. The coaches nodded approvingly.

But there was no time to dwell. The whistle blew again, signaling another phase of the scrimmage.

The blue team adjusted, pressing higher to cut off the passing lanes. Adam closed down Benjamin quicker now, forcing him to play simpler. It became a battle of patience—who could find the right moment to break forward?

Twenty minutes passed, and fatigue started creeping in. Sweat dripped down foreheads, jerseys clung to bodies, but no one slowed down. The competitiveness wouldn’t allow it.

Finally, the session came down to one attacking sequence. The red team built from the back, passing with purpose.

Benjamin exchanged a quick one-two with Haye before driving forward. He feinted left, cut right, and slid a perfect through ball to Gudmundsson, who finished emphatically.

The coach’s whistle blew three times, signaling the end of the training session.

Breathing heavily, the players jogged to the sideline, grabbing water bottles and towels. The coaches gathered them for a brief talk, emphasizing the importance of decision-making in tight spaces.

Benjamin wiped sweat from his brow and glanced at Adam, who grinned tiredly. "Not bad, huh?"

"Not bad," Adam admitted, taking a sip from his bottle. "But we’ll see who steps up tomorrow."

With that, they walked back towards the bus with their muscles aching but minds sharp. The real battle awaited them at the Stadio Friuli. It was just a few hours away.