Joining Test (2)
The next day, before heading to AD Alcorcon's training ground, I said my goodbyes to the CD Coslada players. I'd only played one game with them, but they all wished me luck anyway.
"We knew it from the first training session. You're not the kind of guy who belongs at our amateur level."
"I hope you make it pro. I'll be rooting for you for real."
"Thanks to you, promotion feels so close now. If we go up, it'll be partly because of you. Seriously, thank you."
"You'll definitely get an offer from Alcorcon. But if not, come back to Coslada. We'll always welcome you. Though... I guess we won't be playing together again, haha!"
Tiago was the same.
"This is awesome. Go kill it out there. You've got this."
I playfully slapped his shoulder.
"You don't have to say goodbye to me too, Tiago. Won't I see you at Corear? You quitting or what?"
"...What, I was just trying to set the mood. Heh."
Tiago and I had grown really close. For the record, he has no idea Yuko and I are sex partners. Not that I'd ever tell him. And Yuko wouldn't blab about it either.
"Show them everything you've got. Then Alcorcon will offer you a spot too."
Vitolo flashed me a grin and extended his hand.
"Thank you, Coach. I didn't expect a chance this quick... It's all thanks to you."
"My credit? I only recommended you because you've got the talent."
Vitolo squeezed my hand a bit as we shook, then added,
"One little bit of pressure, though—if you underperform at the tryout, it'll reflect on me. My friend'll think I've lost my eye for talent."
I replied firmly.
"That won't happen."
Vitolo smiled faintly.
"I know. It won't."
I drove the car Aunt had given me to AD Alcorcon's training ground. My heart pounded wildly for no reason. It felt totally different from my first time at CD Coslada. Back then, I was just excited to finally play real soccer again. Now, I was thrilled because I was one step closer to the future I'd dreamed of.
Let's make this happen. No matter what.
I gripped the wheel tight, repeating the vow to myself. I couldn't help being a little nervous.
When I arrived at AD Alcorcon's training ground, I rolled down the window as the guard approached the entrance. He lifted the barrier without a word—probably because they'd been told in advance about an Asian player coming for a tryout.
I parked and headed inside, where a man spotted me and came over with a friendly wave.
"You must be Theo?"
He wasn't in uniform, and he looked at least in his thirties—maybe early forties? Had to be club staff or a coach.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Jordi Calavera, coach of Alcorcon B."
"Ah...!"
I hadn't even considered he could be the coach—he looked too young. Technically, coaches fell under staff, but still.
"Theo Cha. Looking forward to working with you."
I shook hands politely with Jordi Calavera, coach of AD Alcorcon B—the second team.
"Perfect timing. I was heading to the pitch. Let's go."
Jordi Calavera led me to the training area. AD Alcorcon's facilities included the youth academy, clubhouse, and three soccer fields. The A-team—one-team—field was right in front of the clubhouse. The youth field was near the academy, with several smaller pitches around since they divided the kids by level, and it was at the bottom. The B-team field sat right in the middle—looking up to the A-team pitch on the hill, down to the youth setup below.
We walked down to it.
Intentional, huh.
People always prefer up over down. Basement or second floor? Everyone picks the second floor. The A-team field up the hill kept catching my eye, like motivation to climb there with results.
"Huh? What'd you say?"
Jordi Calavera tilted his head at my mutter. I waved it off hastily.
"Nothing. Just psyching myself up, haha!"
He chuckled.
"Nervous?"
"I'd be lying if I said no. Yeah, I am."
It wasn't fear of failing. Alcorcon B was higher level than Coslada, sure, but still semi-pro, not full pro. It was promising youths shedding the youth label and ex-pros bumped from A-team. If I couldn't dominate them? I'd pack up and head back to Korea without crossing the pro threshold in Spain.
...Not that it'd happen.
"No need to stress. Just relax and do you. Tryouts aren't about forcing 200%—it's about nailing 100% perfectly."
I nodded. Solid advice, but it didn't quite land. Not wrong, just... I didn't even know my own 100% yet. I'd need a few seasons in Europe's top three leagues to find my ceiling. So right now, I was going in at 1,000%—my "100%" wouldn't shock them enough.
"You played a year of pro in Korea?"
"Yeah, second division."
"No problem then."
Jordi Calavera smiled and continued.
"We won't watch you long. Usually a month, but pros show their quality fast."
"Got it."
"Hit the mark, and the club'll offer a B-team contract quick. Semi-pro level."
He grinned.
"You didn't cross from Korea to Spain for that, right?"
Obviously. Pro contract, pro debut, bigger stages—that's why I'd come.
"So relax. If you made a Korean pro club, semi-pro here's easy. I know Korean soccer's solid."
I appreciated him easing my nerves with the lip service.
"Plenty of Koreans have played here. I played for Alcorcon before coaching—ran with three of them. High level."
That confused me. No famous Koreans from AD Alcorcon in my memory.
...Meaning they hadn't made it big.
"Better? Less tense?"
Yeah, his kindness helped. Knowing the best was semi-pro actually relaxed me—like a chill pill. Nail that, shine, convert to pro later. Step by step.
But not slow. Max six months. Pro contract by then.
After quick intros and greetings with the players and staff, real training kicked off. I stretched with them, then split for physical tests with the fitness coach before warm-ups.
He approached with a notepad and stopwatch, set up cones, and said,
"Focus on form over speed. Don't chase pace—think balance."
First: sprints. Body loose, I breathed steady, then exploded on his signal along the cones.
"Excellent. Outstanding."
The coach, who'd been meh before, flipped 180° at my top marks.
Jumps shocked him too.
"Now, back to the ball, defend it."
He passed it over. I trapped it underfoot, shrugged off his pressure from behind—no steal. Even with his burly frame and hard shoves, I didn't budge once.
Physicals were always my strength—got me past pro gates more than skill.
Side steps and more tests followed; thumbs up every time.
Done, Jordi Calavera called me over—briefed on results.
"Beyond expectations. Best physicals on B-team."
"Glad to hear."
He pointed to the group.
"Now, rondo. You know it?"
Rondo: circle of players pass around keepers inside, who press to steal. Basic quick-release under pressure, but tweak numbers/gaps for tactics. Simple, but tests judgment, basics, skill, movement.
Ten minutes in, zero steals on me. Some B-teamers tested harder; I escaped easy, passed on.
Coaches' eyes changed. Players' too. Jordi too.
Shooting and set pieces? I shone.
"Great shot. Pinpoint accuracy. Striker, right?"
"Yes."
"Hm... Excellent."
Near end, Jordi gathered everyone.
I knew what came next—no need to ask.
"Like I always say: train like it's real. Stepping on the pitch is war. Kill or be killed. That's the mindset."
Tweet!
The mini-game curtain rose—the stage for my true shine.