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Friday Morning — Training Ground
The sun sat low over the misted edge of the pitch, throwing long shadows across cones and bibs. A quiet rhythm to everything. No music. No banter. Just feet tapping against grass and clipped calls from the coaching staff.
Jake stood with arms folded near the centre circle, eyes following each sequence with that detached precision of someone measuring not performance—but readiness.
No drills beyond 70%. No late tackl ...
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