Football System: Touchline God-Chapter 55: First Training Session I

Maddox arrived at Northcastle’s training facility forty-five minutes early. The morning air was crisp, and dew still clung to the grass pitches that stretched out behind the main building.

He sat on a side bench for a moment, watching groundskeepers drag nets across the fields, preparing for the day ahead.

The facility was impressive. Modern buildings, pristine pitches, the kind of setup that spoke of serious investment. This wasn’t some amateur operation like his former team. This was professional football, even at the youth level.

He walked through the main entrance, his footsteps echoing off polished floors. A few trophies lined the walls—three Youth League D cups and external awards. The history of success was everywhere.

"You’re early," a voice said behind him.

Maddox turned to see Marcus Webb approaching, carrying a steaming cup of coffee and a clipboard thick with papers.

"Couldn’t sleep," Maddox admitted.

Marcus grinned. "Good sign. Shows you care. Come on, I’ll show you around before the boys arrive."

They walked through the building—fitness rooms, video analysis suites, medical facilities. Everything a coach could need. Marcus pointed out details, explaining how things worked, where to find what he’d need.

"The players start arriving around eight-thirty," Marcus said as they entered a conference room overlooking the main pitch. "Training officially starts at nine, but most of them like to get here early. Stretch, chat, get their heads right."

Through the window, Maddox could see the first few young men walking across the car park. Even from this distance, he could tell they were athletes. The way they moved, the casual confidence in their stride.

"Tell me about the captain again," Maddox said.

"Jack Stones. Center-back. Been with us three years. Solid player, but more importantly, solid person. The others respect him."

"And the problem players?"

Marcus sighed. "Reece Alden. Midfielder. Talented kid, but he thinks he’s already made it. Gets frustrated when things don’t go his way. And Zayn Carter, our striker. Scores goals but disappears in big games."

Maddox nodded, filing the information away. Every team had players like that. The trick was managing them, finding ways to get the best out of them when it mattered.

"What formation did the previous coach use?"

"Four-four-two, usually. Sometimes three-five-two when we needed more attacking threat. The players are comfortable with both so far, but you can change that if you think it’s lacking."

More players were arriving now. Maddox watched them through the window, noting body language, seeing who talked to whom, who walked alone.

These small details mattered. They told stories about team dynamics, about confidence levels, about who had influence in the group.

Marcus led him to a room qin the main building. Sarah Mitchell was waiting in the conference room, a contract spread out on the table.

"How do you see the training facility?" she asked.

"Well. It’s at a higher level compared to most teams in the youth leagues."

"Should be good enough to increase our chances of beating Hastings Coastal Academy, right?"

Maddox looked out at the training pitches, where groundskeepers were already preparing for the afternoon session. "We’ll find out soon enough."

Sarah nodded and pushed the contract toward him. "Three years, two hundred thousand per year, accommodation included. Everything we discussed."

Maddox read through the pages carefully. The terms were exactly as promised. No hidden clauses, no surprises. Just a straightforward deal that could change his life.

He picked up the pen Sarah offered him.

"One question," he said. "What happens if we don’t make it to the NextGen League?"

"Then we try again next year. This isn’t about one game, Maddox. It’s about building something long-term."

"But Sunday matters."

"Sunday matters a lot."

He signed his name on the bottom line. Then again on the second copy. The ink was still wet when Sarah shook his hand.

"Welcome to Northcastle Rising Stars, coach."

Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. "Ready to meet the players?"

Maddox folded his copy of the contract and put it in his jacket pocket. Through the window, he could see more of the players having arrived on the pitch, warming up or working on individual skills.

"I’m ready," he said.

They walked down to the changing rooms were they had assembled the players. The sound of laughter and conversation drifted through the corridors.

Normal sounds for a training day, but Maddox detected something else underneath. Nervousness, maybe. The weight of knowing their season hung in the balance.

Marcus pushed open the door to the team room. Twenty-two young faces looked up at them. The conversation stopped. freewёbnoνel-com

"Morning, lads," Marcus said. "I want you to meet Eric Maddox. He’s going to be taking over as head coach."

The silence stretched for a moment. Then a tall, dark-haired player stood up. Jack Stones, Maddox guessed. The captain had that unmistakable presence.

"Welcome, coach," Jack said, extending his hand. "We’re glad to have you."

The handshake was firm, respectful. The kind of greeting that set the tone for everything that followed.

"Thank you," Maddox replied, addressing the whole room. "I know this is a big week for all of you. I’m here to help you get ready for Sunday."

He kept it simple. No grand speeches, no promises he might not be able to keep. Just honest words from someone who understood what they were going through.

"Any questions?" he asked.

A hand went up. The player had a slight build, and quick eyes. Reece Alden, the midfielder Marcus had warned him about.

"What’s your plan, coach? How are we going to beat Hastings Coastal Academy?"

Maddox smiled. A direct question. He liked that.

"First, I need to see you guys play. Then we’ll talk tactics. But I can tell you this, we’re not going to change everything overnight. We’re going to build on what you already do well and select from the best of you lots."

Training started with a light warm-up. Maddox stood on the sideline, watching, making mental notes. Who was fast, who was skilled, who communicated well. Marcus had been right about the talent level. These weren’t ordinary players.

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