#55 Preseason (2)

No one gets full on the first sip. Jordi Calavera stood in the technical area with arms crossed, his eyes never leaving the pitch for a single moment.

This was the third friendly of preseason—after a 6-3 win in the first and an 8-2 thrashing of an amateur club in the second. Today's opponents were a semi-pro side from the Primera Federacion, a step above the previous teams in quality. They lacked sharpness going forward but excelled in intense high pressing and quick transitions back to defense when it failed.

The previous game against the amateurs had seen his passing game click nicely, but today, the opponents' savvy, aggressive press was exposing shaky moments at the back once again. It wasn't a satisfying performance. They'd conceded too.

But among the AD Alcorcon fans watching, not a soul was griping about the scoreline: 4-2. Despite solid defending from the opposition, Cha Tae-oh had bagged a first-half hat-trick on his own. Add in a free-kick screamer from the team's number-one set-piece taker and right winger, Nico Salaberria, and they had a two-goal cushion despite the wobbly defense.

With Tae-oh up top, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at least the attack's sorted. What a relief.

Jordi Calavera felt immense gratitude toward Cha Tae-oh. Without him in the squad, implementing his vision for the team would have been far tougher. The players, buoyed by the wins despite the creaks, kept grinding toward his style of play without losing heart.

But one worry lingered.

If Tae-oh keeps this up into the regular season, perfect. But...

The gap between the fourth division, where Cha Tae-oh had shone, and La Liga 2 was massive. Even the chasm between this third-tier side and second-tier level was glaring. No doubt Cha Tae-oh would excel in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠La Liga 2, but replicating his fourth-division madness every game? Unlikely.

To get this system bedded in properly, it'll take at least five games at La Liga 2 level.

His brand of soccer would need at least half a season to truly take root in the squad. Hell, that might even be optimistic. But even knowing this, Jordi Calavera had zero intention of ditching it now. He'd stick to his guns, win or lose. Abandoning it at the first sign of trouble would only delay bedding it in, leading to mediocre soccer and wasted time.

If that was the plan, I never would've taken this job.

Iñigo Chapé, the technical director, had said as much when offering him the role: As long as he held the TD position, no sacking until the club owner pulled the trigger. In other words, if Jordi failed, he'd step down too.

But if results don't come and performances flop, the players will start doubting.

He wasn't blindly committed to building from the back, either. He'd drilled the players to switch to quick long balls forward when opponents exploited their weaknesses with heavy pressure. Two of Cha Tae-oh's goals today had come from exactly that.

"Great play just now! Keep moving into those spots to receive!"

Jordi Calavera uncrossed his arms and clapped vigorously, lavishing praise on the defenders. At least things were improving bit by bit. Rubén Soriano's progress was especially eye-opening—even for him.

This veteran center-back, who'd poured his career into pure defending, was suddenly playing with fresh fire, like he was burning his last embers as a pro. Still, shortcomings remained, and the player knew it—hell, he'd even come to Jordi saying he'd understand being benched.

But Jordi had no plans to drop him. Clumsy on the pass and short in technique? Maybe. But his elite defending, line control, and leadership were net positives for the team.

And his leadership was rubbing off big-time on one player: the lively right-back covering the flank next to him at right center-back. Joni Montoya.

A beast in crossing and stamina, but previously dinged for defensive lapses and poor reads, Joni was growing fast under Rubén's guidance. Jordi had planned to ease him in behind starters like Cha Tae-oh and Miguel Amaro, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but that was changing.

Whack!

That running cross quality was jaw-dropping every time. Pinpoint to Cha Tae-oh's head, converting to shots on target...

Splash!

Half the time, it rattled the net—a cheat-code pattern taking shape.

We need to lean harder into Tae-oh's heading.

Smooth build-up from deep was great until opponents packed the box with a double wall. Soccer's about goals, and crammed penalty areas kill angles. In those cases, drag defenders wide to create space, rip from distance, or go aerial.

The issue?

All our quality crossers are bunched on the right.

Nico Salaberria's lethal kicks and Joni Montoya both operated right-sided. Plus, left-footed Nico's crosses from right required a cut inside first, telegraphing it to defenders.

Attack has to revolve around Tae-oh no matter what. It's the only way we stay steady and push forward.

Tweeeet—tweeeeet!

Halftime. 5-2. Cha Tae-oh had notched four in the first half alone, tallying 15 goals across three friendlies in a bonkers display. Jordi hooked him for the second, no need for full minutes, and to test the attack without him.

Subbing in the backup striker, Jordi also rotated a few starters—but kept both wingers and Joni Montoya on. He even swapped the wingers' sides.

"Nico, second half—focus on crosses, no cutting inside."

"...Got it, coach."

Nico loved inverting as a lefty to shoot, but he nodded, grasping the logic.

Can't be helped. He scores more than me anyway.

Second half kicked off. Assuming Cha Tae-oh up top, Nico prioritized crosses over dribbles from the left, Joni from the right. Quality balls rained into the box. Jordi cracked a faint smile.

The regular-season starting XI was taking shape.

Preseason was winding down. Jersey numbers locked in. Mine? The striker's badge of honor: 9. Thanks to Iñigo Chapé shipping out last winter's signing by summer, freeing it up.

New players' traits? Mostly sussed. Chemistry? Solid. But Jordi Calavera's soccer vision wasn't fully clicking yet.

"Rubén."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for hooking me up with that trainer."

"Haha, no sweat."

My condition was the best I'd felt as a pro. Hard work, sure—but credit to Rubén Soriano's recommendation too.

Miguel Amaro and Joni Montoya were in top nick too. Miguel especially: held his speed while packing on smart bulk, nailing both goals.

...Still room to grow, though.

"Hey, guys."

"Yeah?"

"What?"

"I... really wanna start today."

Ahead of preseason's finale at home, Joni Montoya burst into the physio room, starter hunger blazing. Miguel Amaro, mid-massage nearby, felt it too.

"Dunno why I'm so nervous."

"'Cause it's a start. Damn, jealous."

"You started last game."

"Sigh... but benched the one before. And today's La Liga..."

The capper: Rayo Vallecano, a La Liga survivor of five seasons, mid-table finishers at 11th last year. No La Liga experience for these two meant burning to play.

...Same for me.

"Plus, starting today basically locks main squad spots."

That's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why Joni was pushing hard. One week to opener—this friendly mattered more. Rayo, prepping their best for final checks, meant starters here were first-round winners in the pecking order. And that fed straight into opener picks.

"Hang tight. Good news coming."

"Hearing that from you pumps me up. Thanks, Tae-oh."

I flashed a grin instead. No clue on Jordi's call, but I figured Joni was starting. Last game's second-half wing swap for crosses? He wanted them from both flanks.

Soon enough, Jordi summoned the squad to the locker room and dropped the starting XI.

The winners of the starting battles.