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nckkss

Nick was getting used to life in Cape Town

Mondays and Tuesdays were training days.

Monday mornings he’d train with the defensive unit, working on marking, tackling and tracking back. Then he hit the gym to work on strength, pace and acceleration.

Tuesdays was for set piece training. Nick was taking corners now, and he wanted to be the best. The coaches and team mates occasionally set a challenge for him to try and score a goal off a stationary training dummy. And he was getting pretty good at it. After training his corner taking on his own, the squad did some set piece drills. Nick’s corners were getting pretty good, but Felix Pedro could also whip a ball into the box with some deadly accuracy with their free kicks too.

Nearly every time, whoever crossed it in, Dante Von Wolfe would rise above the other players and try and score with such ferocity – as if the net had wronged a family member but he could only attack it with the ball. Every driven ball was connected with at is if it was the final minute of a cup final.

Another gym session and then a team meeting going over the plan for the next match, making sure everyone knows the tactics and the subtle intricacies of the opposition’s probable plan.

Wednesday is game day. Now its not the academy any more. Kasak isn’t stacking assists and endlessly knocking in crosses for Mullet Man and Blaise N'Kufo like at the academy for Accra. The other players in the minor are a mix of seasoned pros nearly at their prime and experienced veterans prolonging a glittering career.

Nick wasn’t struggling, and the coaches were reassuring.

“We’ve got a lot of rookies, this season could be pretty bumpy,” they had said before the first match, “Just keep your chins up, keep doing the work and soon you’ll reminding the next rookies that you’re playing real football now.”

Thursdays were for rest and recovery, another game Friday, then lighter sessions over the weekends.

The results weren't exactly brilliant for Kaapstad, and Nick wasn't playing as good as he would have liked, struggling to find his feet in a new position and it was starting to get him down.

If anything though, he was taking it much better than his team mate Dante Von Wolfe.

After 3 matches without as much as a shot on goal, Von Wolfe was rarely seen seated in the dressing room, if he was ever in there at all. He’d pace around distractedly while the rest of the squad looked on, despondent; or insist on getting back out onto the pitch and trying anything to get the ball in the net, almost just to prove it to himself. Possessed by a singular goal... of scoring a goal.

“I heard a rumour,” Pedro whispered to Nick at training, “that they had to keep the floodlights on until midnight last night before Von Wolfe would stop scoring in the goal from all over the pitch. Convinced the backup keeper to stay with him too.

“Really?” Nick sighed, “Ah man, I hope he is ok. I would hate it too if I was in his shoes.”

Von Wolfe’s intensity wasn’t a problem at training, except for the youth players who had to collect any errant balls that either dinked off the post or went clean through the net. And the training pitch corner flags he would rip off and throw in frustration.

Nick tried his best to placate and calm the situation, applauding every effort, wayward or directed; “Nice one mate, great try, next one will go in for sure” or “oh yes, smash the ball into the net, pal, great job!”

Dante didn’t take this especially well, and felt it was disrupting his focus.

“Are you...teasing me?” Dante finally responded after a particularly platitude laden pep talk after a training session.

“Dante, mate, its honestly not like that,” Nick held up his hands apologetically, “its just… I’ve been there you know? I’ve had terrible runs of form and…”

“This is not about form, Kasak, this is about… destiny. How can I score if I can’t shoot? How can I shoot if I can’t get the ball? How can I become the greatest striker in the SSL if I can’t even get the ball?”

Von Wolfe was now staring at Kasak, with an energy and intensity burning through, as if Von Wolfe is analysing him to discover any new ways to score goals.

“Erm… lets just chill for a second, yeah?” Kasak edges away, “You know, I used to be a striker, and to be the goalscorer… it meant everything to me. To be the best. But if you let them get to you
then you’ve already lost.”

Dante Von Wolfe’s expression softens, although he doesn’t speak.

Nick presses on, “Sometimes… football is just up here.” He points to his head. “An old coach of mine had a saying ‘football is 90% mental and the rest is all in your head.’”

Dante looks confused for a moment, eyes wandering in an attempt to understand.

“For me… how do I put this? I believe I’m brilliant, even when the evidence suggests I’m not, and I know that I will show that to everyone else to. If you keep crashing out, well… how does that make the rest of us feel?”

Von Wolfe is uncharacteristically still, takes in Nick’s words.

“Anyway mate, I’m gonna head. Let me know if you want to… talk some more…”

Kasak sidles away, Dante stands motionless except for his eyes, searching for the meaning in the words he just heard.

(Dante Von Wolfe appears courtesy of @Bloodless who gave their permission)

(Also I cant seem to correct the paragraph formatting)