The Youth League Opens
"Hmm. No matter how many times I see it, this place is always so small."
That was Hailey's verdict as she stepped into Yohan's room, surveying the snug little space that managed to hold everything it needed.
"It's spacious, though..."
Yohan pushed back.
"You call this spacious?"
"It's a lot smaller than your room, sure. But I think it's plenty big."
"I'd feel cooped up."
"I don't feel cooped up at all..."
"What's this?"
Hailey had been scanning the bookshelf. She pointed at a row of volumes lined up neatly side by side.
"Those? Spanish. The ones next to them are French. Then Portuguese, and next to those..."
"Okay, enough. Do the sisters read these?"
"No. I do."
"You? Why?"
"To study."
"Yeah, but why are you studying them?"
"Once I become a footballer, I'll have to talk to players from other countries. Sister said it would be good to start with the Romance languages."
"They weren't here last time I looked. Did you just get them?"
"Yeah. Sister bought them for me. So when are you giving me my present?"
"Ugh... that present again... Just hang on."
Hailey set her schoolbag on the desk and rummaged through it. Then she pulled out a frog plush with its mouth hanging wide open and a vacant, slightly dazed look in its eyes — a toy that managed to be both funny and oddly cute — and held it out to him.
"Here. These are really popular in America right now. It's a chatterbox character from a kids' cartoon. Five-year-olds go crazy for him, and since your brain and a five-year-old's are basically the same age, I figured it was perfect."
"Really? It's soft and looks fun. Thanks. I'll take good care of it."
"....."
She had tried to tease him, but it hadn't landed at all — which only left her feeling vaguely embarrassed. It hadn't even been that clever a jab... Clearly, if she wanted to get under Yohan's skin, she was going to have to be a lot more direct about it.
Hailey let out a dry little laugh and said,
"Don't I get a present?"
"I have to give you one too? Hold on, then... let me see what I've got."
"Forget it. I wasn't expecting anything anyway. Just pull out your vacation homework. You haven't done it, have you?"
"Uh...?"
The slight hesitation in Yohan's voice did not escape her.
"What was that just now?"
"What was what?"
"Did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Your vacation homework!"
"Well. If you look at it that way, I suppose you could say that."
"What kind of weird answer is that!? I told you not to do it!"
"The other kids came over, so I kind of had to work on it with them. But I saved the parts for us, so don't worry."
"What parts for us."
"Math and science."
"So once we finish those, I have to do the rest of the homework by myself...!"
"I'll help you."
"Hmm... Will you?"
The fiery attitude drained out of her almost at once. Yohan briefly wondered whether she had been putting on the anger just to get what she wanted — then decided she simply wasn't that calculating, and let it go.
"Yeah."
"Good. Let's start."
"Right now?"
"Better to get it over with, right?"
"Alright."
"What first? Math, yeah? I always do the thing I hate most first."
"I don't really mind either way."
"Great."
Yohan pulled the math book from the drawer of the desk the sisters had built themselves. When he looked up and found Hailey staring straight at him, he asked,
"What?"
"Aren't you going to say something?"
"Say what?"
"Thank you...! I just offered to do the math homework you suck at first, out of consideration."
"Oh. So it wasn't about doing the thing you suck at first. My mistake."
"You little...!"
"Thank you."
"You could just say thank you. Do you always have to make me mad?"
"I have to correct things when they're wrong... And if you get angry all the time, it's bad for your health later on."
"Then stop doing things that make me angry."
"Alright."
"Don't just keep saying 'alright' — show me with your actions."
"Oh. That sounded just like something a mean old lady in a drama would sa— ah, alright...! Sorry."
The sight of Hailey's face properly contorting sent Yohan scrambling into an apology. Hailey drew a long breath, forced herself calm, and sat down at the desk with the firm resolve that if he pulled that again, she was going to thump him one.
And so the two of them put their heads together over the math homework.
In truth, the one doing most of the thinking was Hailey. Every time Yohan tried to solve something, she blocked him, leaving him with nothing to do but keep his mouth shut.
Summer vacation in Italy ran long — roughly three months. Throughout that stretch, Yohan trained, then, with his coach's permission, put in personal practice at the convent within careful limits, over and over again.
He did his vacation homework too, of course — with Hailey, and with his friends. Somewhere along the way he also introduced Hailey to the other kids. In the past she might have picked a fight; after her trip to America, though, something seemed to have shifted in her. She was a little brusque, nothing more, and caused no trouble.
Yohan settled fully into his new routine.
"Lee! Check left and right properly!"
Once he started joining team training, he got chewed out by the manager and the coaches —
"Okay, that was good!"
— and praised in equal measure, and his ability climbed.
And Coach Mauro, along with the other Pulcini coach and the manager who worked with Yohan, finally understood why the club had signed him on the spot in the first week of camp.
Excellent.
Watching Yohan play in a simple scrimmage, the manager of the Pulcini team nodded with quiet satisfaction.
The kid's ability to read the game itself was outstanding. His creative play was a real asset to the team — to the point that, with only a little exaggeration, you could almost say individual instructions weren't necessary. His accuracy on the ball had also improved steadily since he first joined, clear proof of how hard he had been training.
Of course, once he left the small-sided world of the Pulcini, things might look different. The more players on the pitch, the more each one demanded attention.
There was a slightly bittersweet side to it as well. A player of that temperament was usually given a free role, left to express himself without restraint — a type you rarely saw in the organized modern game. Even so, that natural intelligence wasn't going anywhere. The manager was convinced that once Yohan reached the senior level, he would be good.
Not just good. If he held on to his current ability and rate of growth, people would fall over in shock.
Tweet!
"That's enough. Five-minute break, then we start again. Lee, switch teams with Bianchi for the second quarter."
"Yes, Manager."
By the time Yohan had grown reasonably close to his club teammates through those busy days — about two weeks before elementary school reopened — change came to the Pulcini as well.
The league was about to begin.
The Pulcini league Yohan would play in was essentially an unofficial competition, open to the youth sides of both amateur and professional clubs. Results were not treated as especially important, and in practice there was no standings table at all. The rules were loose. You could sub the same player back on without any issue, and there was no limit on substitutions — everything designed so that every child received a fair share of playing time and built up experience. It was a league focused on the footballing and personal growth of young players.
Even so, for all its unofficial, friendly character, everyone still tried to win. Not the adults — the children. Every so often a kid with too much competitive fire would go over the top, and during derby matches in particular the managers would tear their hair out. The children knew full well what a derby meant, and the games tended to boil over. It wasn't just Italy; most of Europe was the same. So the football associations and the clubs did their best to schedule around derbies in the youth leagues for U-13 and below. They couldn't ignore the value of those matches entirely, so they still happened — and when they did, the managers drilled the spirit of fair play into their players again and again.
"Just because the league is about to open doesn't mean you get carried away by the will to win. A healthy amount of passion is good, but too much of it is poison. Understood?"
The manager approached the players as they lounged in small clusters, chatting through their break. They answered in one voice.
"Yes!!"
"Don't get too hung up on the result. Winning is nice, of course. But what's more important is what you've learned in training. The coaches and I will be watching how well you use what you've been taught — and how you adapt it. Focus on that. Teamwork too."
"Yes!"
"And don't forget to respect the other team. Play with manners."
After taking in the manager's lesson, finishing up in the showers, and talking with his teammates on the bus, Yohan came back to the convent, ate every last bite of the meal Sister Caterina had prepared, and lay down on his bed for a short rest. Then he suddenly remembered her warning not to sleep right after eating, and pushed himself upright.
I have to do well.
A league match. The manager had told them not to obsess over it — but from Yohan's point of view, that was impossible. He would be wearing Roma's kit with the number 39 on his back, the number he had chosen when he signed. That alone made it different.
He had no intention of getting greedy, though. One thing football had taught him was that the more you had the ball, the more fun it was. Who in the world came to play football and found any interest in never touching the ball? Everyone wanted it. Everyone wanted to play their own game. That didn't mean spinning the ball around when you could finish a chance yourself. Just as the manager had said, he would prioritize the team's play and keep the game flowing well.
With that resolve settled, Yohan bolted out of his room the moment Sister Caterina called for him.
"Yohan! Your friends are here!"
"Coming!!"
Watching Serie A's opening match at the convent — a fixture that always came before the Pulcini season — had been an annual ritual for Yohan ever since he started elementary school. He had never planned to miss it, but this year he was determined to watch even if he were half-dead with fever.
Why? Because he was now an official Roma player.
Signing had made a club he already loved feel even dearer, and his fandom only ran deeper. Heart thudding, Yohan headed for the playroom the sisters had prepared.