My Football Legends Chat Group-Chapter 38: Passive Skill

Carlos finally spotted his assigned seat in the cramped away end of Wetherby Road and made his way over, squeezing past a row of grumpy Yorkshiremen. Seeing the green pitch after hours of travel put a smile on his face, despite the earlier confusion with the taxi driver who thought "Harrogate" was a type of stew.

"Sorry I’m late, mate," Carlos said, apologizing to the man whose view he blocked.

"Just sit down, will ya? You’re blocking the play," the man grunted, adjusting his flat cap.

Carlos recognized him immediately. It was Bill, the die-hard fan from the previous match. Carlos smiled, feeling a sense of familiarity in this foreign land. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"A penny for your thoughts?" Carlos asked, trying to use an English idiom he had learned on the plane.

Bill was silent for a moment as he looked out onto the field where Leeds United were currently pinned back in their own half. Letting out a sigh that smelled of Bovril and onions, he asked a question.

"Did your lad tell you why he’s hugging the touchline like that?"

Carlos was a little surprised, however, he shook his head in response. "No, he didn’t say. But I told him to be careful. The defenders here... they are big."

Hearing this, Bill let out a dry chuckle and took a sip of his drink. "Big? That number 4 for Harrogate is a butcher. He’s been imprisoned twice for assault, probably. And look at your boy."

Once again Bill let out a heavy sigh, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I think Rio is scared of the contact..." he stated.

Carlos almost jumped out of his seat in a panic. "W-What do you mean!?"

"Did you see his first touch earlier? He knocked it five yards away just to avoid the tackle. I’ve never seen a winger play like that unless he’s terrified. It was as if he was afraid that holding the ball would get his legs broken." Bill replied, pointing a sausage-like finger at the pitch.

"We can’t afford a passenger in the Championship. If he’s soft, they’ll eat him alive."

Carlos grimaced. He knew how stubborn his son could be, especially when it came to proving people wrong. They would have better luck winning the lottery than convincing Rio to sub himself off, especially since it was his debut.

Now that he thought deeper about it, the decision to play in England was a massive gamble. Rio had always been technically gifted, but physically? He was a twig compared to these oak trees.

What kind of father would he be if he let his son get destroyed in a friendly match just for some experience? Sure, Rio wanted this loan, but seeing the size of the Harrogate center-back, he could understand Bill’s skepticism.

Letting out his third sigh in as many minutes, Carlos leaned back in the plastic chair and shook his head.

"This is his first test. He won’t be able to rely on speed alone on this muddy pitch. Let’s see if he can survive the first half."

"Huh? Survive?" Bill was immediately confused, tilting his head. "I just want him to complete a pass, mate."

Back on the field, Mateo was in possession after receiving a bobbling pass from Ampadu. Unfortunately, composure was not his strength in this cauldron of noise, and his fate was the same as the previous two possessions.

"He’s panicking!"

Leeds once again scrambled back into shape, their faces filled with determination but also frustration. It was currently the 20th minute and they were up against the physical aggression of a League Two side that wanted to claim a Premier League scalp.

These were the toughest tackles in the pre-season so far and a big reason as to why Harrogate had managed to keep the score 0-0. Considering this was their third heavy challenge on Mateo, the young midfielder was filled with nerves.

As a rule of thumb, midfielders tended to crumble if they didn’t establish dominance early. This was especially true in the English lower leagues.

The Harrogate defensive midfielder, a man with no neck and a shaved head, now stood near the center circle, spitting on the turf and preparing for the next victim.

Rio leaned forward on the wing, preparing for anything that came his way. Since seeing Mateo get flattened earlier, he was much more aware of the danger.

[Chat Room Active]

Hand_Of_King: This is football! Look at the mud! Look at the violence! Rio, do not be a coward! Dance with the bulls!

Total_Football_14: They are chasing the ball like dogs. Use that. When a dog runs too fast, he cannot turn. Stop the ball dead, and they will run past you.

The_Phenomenon_9: Break their ankles. Not with kicks, but with skill. I want to see them cry.

"Mateo! Here!" Rio screamed, dropping deep into a pocket of space.

The ball flew from Mateo’s boot, but it was a terrible pass. It was high, swirling in the wind, and had too much pace.

Rio tried his best to track the ball, however, it was dipping awkwardly, heading right towards the sideline where the Harrogate "Butcher" was waiting.

Rio spun towards the touchline and held out his foot, awaiting the impact. Yet the Butcher managed to close the distance before the ball even landed.

"I got him!" The defender roared, launching himself into a sliding tackle that was designed to send Rio into the third row.

"Don’t mind," Rio whispered, his eyes locking onto the spinning ball.

It was a little unfortunate that the pass was so bad, especially since this next interaction was the real headache. Rio had performed an analysis on this situation and could tell that if he took a normal touch, his ankle would be snapped.

While his Potential was S+, his physical durability was currently C+. He was also the target of the crowd’s jeers, who were screaming "Fuck him up!" every time he touched the ball.

Carlos too felt some danger when facing this play, however, he had a tiny bit of hope in his son. He held his breath, clutching the scarf around his neck.

Rio didn’t panic. As long as he timed this right, the ball would stick, and the defender would slide into oblivion.

[Passive Skill Active: A-Grade Ball Control]

He watched the ball. He didn’t try to control it with the inside of his foot. He didn’t try to head it.

He jumped.

"What the fuck?" The Butcher’s eyes widened.

Rio jumped vertically, letting the ball pass under his foot for a split second before trapping it with his heel while in mid-air.

It was a move that shouldn’t exist in League Two.

The Butcher slid underneath Rio, his studs tearing up the grass where Rio’s ankles had been a millisecond ago.

THUD.

Rio landed gracefully. The ball, having hit his heel, stopped dead on the touchline. It didn’t bounce. It didn’t roll away. It sat there like a loyal dog.

"Olé!"

The small section of Leeds fans erupted.

"Holy shit," Bill gasped, dropping his Bovril. "Did you see that?"

Rio didn’t stop. The Butcher was on the floor, sliding out of bounds, cursing at the grass.

Rio turned. The path to the goal was open.

"Mateo! Run!" Rio shouted.

Mateo, seeing his friend survive the assassination attempt, felt a surge of adrenaline. He sprinted forward, leaving his marker behind.

Rio drove inward. The crowd noise changed. It went from jeers to a low, anticipatory rumble.

Another defender, the center-back, stepped up. He was even bigger than the Butcher.

"You’re dead, kid!" he shouted, closing the angle.

Rio looked up. He saw the goal. He saw the keeper. But he also saw Mateo making a run to the back post.

He wound up and faked a shot.

The center-back bit. He threw his body in the way to block the shot that never came.

SWISH.

Rio dragged the ball back with the sole of his boot—a classic futsal move—and dinked a soft, looping pass over the defender’s sliding body.

The ball floated in a slow and high arc in the air towards Mateo, who was waiting at the back post with his chest out.

Carlos watched on in shock as the ball landed perfectly on Mateo’s chest. The runner from midfield easily managed to control it, letting it drop to his feet.

"Shoot!" Rio screamed.

Mateo swung his leg.

BANG!

The net rippled.

0-1.

"GOAL!"

The away end exploded. Flares were popped. Blue smoke filled the air.

"What the hell was that pass?" Bill was dumbfounded. He had seen Leeds play plenty of times since the 70s, and he had always seen wingers run down the line and cross. He had never seen someone stop time like that.

A myriad of thoughts ran through his mind, ranging from his earlier criticism to his sudden realization that this kid was special.

"Has he got glue on his boots?" he murmured.

There was a group of scouts around twenty meters away who were all equipped with tablets, furiously typing after witnessing the play.

"Ahh, what a player. He was supposed to be a raw prospect." One of the scouts said after putting down his tablet.

"Yeah, we can’t afford to let Leeds keep him if he plays like this," another replied.

"But that midfielder... Mateo. He’s not only finding space, he’s finishing like a striker."

Carlos sat there, stunned. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

"That’s my boy," Carlos whispered, tears pricking his eyes. "That’s my Rio."

Bill turned to him, slapping him on the back so hard Carlos almost choked.

"Your boy?" Bill roared, laughing. "Your boy is a bloody magician! We’re winning the league!"