"Okay, let's get down to serious business," said Coach Johansen, his tone solemn.

He had just finished moving around the room and making small talk with the players. By then, Trond Henriksen, the assistant coach, had already set up the video equipment and was switching on the large flat screen hanging on the wall in front of the room.

"I welcome you yet again to another post-match meeting where we review our most recent performances," Coach Johansen began. "However, I'm not in a good mood today. I'm still unhappy about our loss to Sandnes yesterday."

"If we had adhered to the game plan, we surely would have avoided it. But we messed up, put on a miserable showing, and lost another game. That's cause for concern." He paused, letting his gaze roam across the players in the tactical room.

For a few seconds, there was utter silence in the room, save for the sound of Coach Trond Henriksen shuffling through some papers at one side of the room. The players on their part, including Zachary, all waited attentively for the coach to continue his address.

"I know that losses can happen in football," the coach continued, his eyes narrowing. "And I understand there is always a winner and a loser in every game. But losing a game because we didn't give our best on the pitch is unacceptable. We had all the possession against Sandnes, but we didn't convert any of it into goals. I'm disappointed with your performance in that game."

Coach Johansen sighed. "Let's first talk about that one goal we conceded in the 23rd minute," he said before turning to look at his assistant. "Trond, can you set the video to the exact moment we conceded," he said to him.

"Okay," Trond Henriksen said, putting his papers down on the chair beside him. He then picked up the remote and started fast-forwarding the match video. In just a few seconds, the assistant head coach paused the motion picture, and a Sandnes player in a light blue jersey appeared on the screen.

Zachary instantly recognized Freyr Thorsteinsson, the winger who'd scored the lone and winning goal against Rosenborg the previous day on the screen.

"That's just perfect," Coach Johansen said, nodding. "We can start watching from here. Thank you, Trond." He added, moving towards the screen.

Coach Trond Henriksen smiled in response before playing the video once more. Freyr Thorsteinsson, the Sandnes Ulf number-23, started dribbling and raced past Mix Diskerud, the Rosenborg starting left-midfielder. Zachary watched as he circumvented two more players in white and went on to deliver a lofted pass into the box.

Then, one of the Sandnes strikers, a black fellow in a number-11 light-blue shirt, out-jumped the defenders and connected with the ball. But instead of attempting to score, he headed the ball back—onto the path of the sprinting Freyr Thorsteinsson, the left-winger. Freyr managed to keep his composure and unleashed a howitzer of a shot at goal despite being marked by two Rosenborg players.

Lund Hansen, the goalkeeper, was helpless. He could only turn and watch the ball curl into the top corner of the goal. The video stopped there and then as the assistant coach pressed the pause button on the remote.

"Okay," Coach Johansen said, letting his gaze settle momentarily across some of the players in the tactics room. "Can someone tell me what we did wrong before conceding that goal?"

All the players, including Zachary, remained silent. Some were frowning or smiling ruefully. The rest stared at the screen with undivided attention—as if their gazes could pierce through the fabric of reality and get a better view of the goings-on within it.

"Anyone?" Coach Johansen asked once more on seeing his players remaining silent.

Mikael Dorsin, the veteran defender of Rosenborg, raised his hand.

"Yes, Mikael." Coach Johansen pointed at him.

"It's pretty clear that we were not in a proper defensive shape when we conceded the goal. First, we let Freyr run with the ball across the wing and cut into the pitch without closing him down. We also allowed him to meet the return pass from Tosaint Ricketts and score. We didn't even do our best to block his shot. So, we wouldn't have conceded the goal if we had maintained a proper defensive shape."

"Exactly, thank you, Mikael," Coach Johansen said, smiling for the first time since beginning his address. "You took the words out of my mouth. Our defensive shape was a mess before that goal."

"Trond, first rewind a bit," he said, turning back towards the screen. The assistant coach did as instructed, rewinding the video and only pressing the pause button at the moment when Freyr Thorsteinsson received the ball. That was just over a minute before the left-winger netted the goal.

"Take a good look at the Sandnes players," Coach Johansen said, moving a few steps away from the screen as the video started playing once again. He leaned on a table on one side of the room before continuing.

"Observe and see how we concede this goal. If you only take a cursory glance at this, you might decide that the goal was Mix's fault. He lost track of the run. This guy runs across the wing and penetrates our half, and finally delivers a cross into the box." He added, pointing at the sprinting image of Freyr Thorsteinsson on the screen.

"But as the cross comes into the box, the center-backs don't jump to challenge the ball. To make matters worse, Freyr Thorsteinsson somehow manages to make a 30-yard run from the wing and arrives close to our box—before shooting and scoring. None of you tried to track down his run. What the hell?"

"Where were the midfielders?" His voice rose slightly. "Where was the right-back? How could we allow a player to make a run from the wing to our box uncontested? We're supposed to be the best team in Norway, for God's sake."

He sighed, shaking his head. "This is unacceptable for players of the biggest Norwegian club. You've got to read the game. You have to anticipate any changes in the tempo and react accordingly. You have to communicate and stay in a proper defensive shape for the entire duration of the game. That's the only way to avoid conceding such stupid goals in the coming matches."

All the players in the tactics room remained silent, waiting for the coach to continue. Zachary, too, watched the video with a solemn expression. But if he had to be honest, he would admit he was a little happy on the inside that the Rosenborg first team had messed up in the previous three games.

If the club had been on form and continued winning every single match with ease, he was sure that the coaching staff wouldn't have considered him for the squad that soon. Thus, Zachary watched Coach Johansen's presentation with a poker face—only to fit the solemn atmosphere in the tactics room. Otherwise, he would have already started grinning if he was alone.

After a few minutes, Coach Johansen started alternating with Trond Henriksen, his assistant, in making the presentation. The two took turns expounding on several player mistakes in the game against Sandnes Ulf while replaying the match video. They were very detailed in pointing out what the players could have done better to achieve victory. The minutes passed quickly, and before Zachary knew it, it was almost time for the meeting to end.

Zachary, for the most part, was a bit bored. Throughout the entire session, he struggled to keep himself from dozing—since he had woken up early and spent the most part of that morning exercising intensively. He only rose to full attention when Coach Johansen took the stage towards the end.

"If we want to achieve anything this season, we have got to work as a team," Zachary heard coach Johansen say in an animated tone of voice. "If our goal is to win the Tippeligaen or the Norwegian Football Cup, we have to defend and attack as a team when we're out there on the pitch. There's simply no way around it."

"When we get problems in the box—say two opposing forwards on the attack, we must not think our two center-backs will stop them alone. I saw that in the moments before Tore received the red card for his last-man challenge, some of our guys were walking. They were walking." He emphasized, letting his gaze roam across a few of the players.

"The opposing team was attacking our goal, but about five of us were walking," Coach Johansen exclaimed, his tone turning a bit dramatic. "We were playing a 4-3-3, for God's sake. The three midfielders and the two forwards on the flanks should have rushed back and helped in the defense. But, all of you let Tore face two of their forwards alone, forcing him to make a professional foul."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that Tore should have made the tackle." He half-smiled, shaking his head. "I am only emphasizing that you shouldn't have let him fall into such a 1-vs-2 situation alone. If any three of you could have sprinted back the moment their forward picked up the ball, I can guarantee you we wouldn't have been—saddled with the red card."

"You guys should thank Lund for saving the penalty. Otherwise, we would have lost by a bigger margin, not just that one goal."