Kristin glanced at her watch. It was twelve minutes to six—the official kick-off time. "The teams should be coming out right about now," she said excitedly to Monica Rønning—her friend seated on her right.

Before Monica could voice her reply, the stadium's loudspeakers came alive, booming over and dwarfing the chatter around her. And without any delay, the live commentary in Norwegian began.

"Good evening, everyone! Today, we're bringing you the Norwegian Football Cup—the tournament that'll determine the Norwegian Football Champions for this year," the melodic voice of a female commentator sounded from the loudspeakers.

"I'm Anne Rimmen, your lovely commentator, bringing you the live commentary for this Norwegian Cup second-round game alongside our special guest Harald Brattbakk, a former Rosenborg player and legend. He'll be our pundit for today's match. Mr. Brattbakk, can you say hello to our listeners?"

"Good evening, everyone," Kristin heard the booming voice of Harald Brattbakk come to her through the loudspeakers.

"Hehe," Anne Rimmen, the first commentator, chuckled. "We're pleased to have you here, Mr. Brattbakk."

"Thank you, Anne."

"For this second-round match, on one side, we have Strindheim Toppfotball, a club doing quite well in the second division. On the other, we have Rosenborg Ballklub, Norway's most successful club. They have won the Cupen eleven times as I speak now. So, what's your take on these two teams, Mr. Brattbakk?"

"Well, I think I don't need to give an in-depth analysis of Rosenborg," Mr. Harald Brattbakk replied. "They're a team that has been performing well in the top league for the past two decades. There's no doubt that they're the favorites to win this second-round fixture of the Norwegian Cup. With the form Nicki Nielson, their center forward, is on, they can score goals at any time. We only have to hope that Mr. Boyd Johansen, the new head coach, does his job well. Rosenborg shouldn't have any trouble winning the game."

"Then, Strindheim..." Anne Rimmen probed.

"Oh," Mr. Harald Brattbakk said. "Strindheim is a good team. They really are and have been doing well in the second division. They won against Steinkjer FK in the first round of the Cupen with a score of 7:0. That should say something about the talent of the players compared to others in the lower divisions. But come on. They are facing Rosenborg here. To win, they would need a great deal of luck on their side."

"Does this mean that you believe that Rosenborg will win this game?"

"You can't be one hundred percent sure in football," Mr. Harald Brattbakk replied. "All I'm saying is that Rosenborg has a very high chance of winning the game. It all depends on how the new coach handles the game."

"Okay, thank you, Harald," Anne Rimmen said. "Let's now focus on the game at hand and..." She stopped mid-sentence as the lilting cheers rose to a brief crescendo, jamming out every other sound in the stadium.

The crowds came alive suddenly, releasing pent-up energy at the long-awaited kick-off. For the next minute, the chanting of the fans was deafening.

However, Kristin wasn't in any way disturbed by the noise.

She had been a Rosenborg fan for as long as she could remember and had attended countless matches ever since she was young. She always felt at home in the stadium crowd and could sing and celebrate freely with the rest of the Rosenborg supporters.

So, she clapped her hands, following the rhythm of the crowd. But she didn't forget to keep her eyes fixed on the exit of the dressing room. She was eager for the match to begin.

"Led by the three-match officials, the two teams are entering the field of play," Anne Rimmen, the commentator, announced after a few moments amidst majestic music.

Kristin immediately noticed that the players of both teams had finally appeared. They marched onto the pitch in two lines, holding hands with adorable young kids clad in the two teams' match jerseys. Among the Rosenborg players, she could pick out the very tall Zachary in his black Rosenborg away jersey. He walked at the back of the rest of the players—his head held high with a somber expression on his face.

"In yellow jerseys, blue shorts, and yellow stockings, is Strindheim Toppfotball, the home team." Kristin heard Anne Rimmen, the commentator, begin the introductions as the players lined up to shake hands on the field.

"In Strindheim's goal, there's Ole Naess, the number-1 and captain."

"In the defense, there are four players. The center backs are No.14 Mats Ingebrigtsen and No.15 Vidar Giske Henriksen. The left-back is No.24, Mathias Hegna, while the right-back is No.4, Kristian Sörli."

"Coach Finn Morten Moe seems to have also gone for a 4-3-3 formation this time around. In the midfield, there are three players—namely: No.3, Emil Røkke, No.26, Sindre Kjos-Wenjum, and No.8, Preben Hammersland."

"And finally, the Strindheim forwards are No.22, Christopher Moen, No.16, Eirik Nerland, and No.22, Sondre Stokke. In black jerseys, we have the team everyone is familiar with; Rosenborg..."

Kristin listened intently as the commentator announced all the players. She nodded in approval on hearing the names—Tore Reginiussen, the new captain, and Nicki Nielsen, the center forward. The two had been playing well since the beginning of the new season. But what worried her was that most of the other usual Rosenborg first-team members were missing from the line-up.

Benching one or two midfielders would have been okay. However, the coach had risked using only the younger players without much experience in the midfield. He seemed to be taking the game lightly, and that was anything but assuring as far as she was concerned.

"Zachary seems like he's going to war," she heard Kasongo say jokingly after the commentators announced Zachary's name. "Look at that expression of his; it's like he wants to kill all the Strindheim players. His opponents won't stand a chance as far as I can tell."

The four friends seated on his left laughed at that.

"I feel sorry for Strindheim," Kendrick Otterson, a former teammate of Zachary, said, shaking his head. "Playing against Zachary when you have never seen him working with the ball is the worst mistake any club can make."

"True," Melissa Romano concurred. "I've just recalled the goals he scored against Valencia in the SIA Cup. If he can net one like that, he'll become a Rosenborg superstar right away. I wonder if he'll still remember us after that."

"Do you guys really think Zachary will be able to hold his own in this match?" Kristin couldn't help but ask after seeing the relaxed atmosphere Kasongo and his friends were projecting. They seemed not the least bit worried about Zachary, who was playing his debut match and supposedly their friend.

Kasongo smiled, casting a fleeting glance at her. "When did you last see Zachary playing?" He asked.

"About two years ago, I guess," Kristin replied honestly. "Why do you ask?" She had been traveling a lot and studying over the past two years. So, she hadn't been able to make time to watch academy matches.

"Then, get this from us who have been playing with Zachary for the past two years," Kasongo said. "He's not a perfect person off the pitch. But when the ball is at his feet, he turns into something else. You only have to wait and see. He should give us plenty of surprises in this game."

**** ****

At exactly 6:00 PM, the referee blew his whistle.

On hearing the whistle, something seemed to click in Zachary's mind. All the background hubbub vanished instantly from his mind, leaving him in a tranquil state. The loud cheering of the fans seemed like a faraway din to him at that moment. His focus was entirely on the match, without any random thoughts running through his mind. In that state, he watched Sondre Stokke, the Strindheim center forward, raise his leg high and kick the ball back to his own half.

The Norwegian Cup second-round game had finally started with Strindheim's kick-off.

Preben Hammersland, the Strindheim attacking midfielder, received the ball in midfield with a simple touch. He then pulled it back with his right foot and passed it across the field to Mathias Hegna, the left-back.

The latter immediately controlled the ball close to the touchline on Strindheim's left flank. With very swift motions, he kicked it towards Christopher Moen—the left-forward. In the first minute of the game, Strindheim was already on the attack. It seemed the Strindheim players were intent on scoring an early goal by attacking through the flanks.

Zachary adjusted his position in the midfield, moving towards the right when he saw Christopher Moen skip past John Chibuike, Rosenborg's right-forward. With his high game intelligence, he'd smelt some 'danger' as soon as the forward had touched the ball. Christopher was one of those fast wingers that could beat any defender for pace.

Zachary's soccer intuition was already warning him that if the skipper wasn't stopped in the wing, he would become a problem for the Rosenborg center backs.

So, with a one-track mind, he went into action right away. He decided to stop the winger before he moved any further towards Rosenborg's goal. As a midfielder in a 4-3-3 formation, he couldn't simply think of attacking. He also had to help the team defend against possible threats to the goal. Otherwise, Ole Selnæs, Rosenborg's central defensive midfielder, would have problems with the unmarked opposing forwards.

So, he started tracking Christopher's run from the touchline—his mind quickly processing all the possible routes the forward might take towards the goal. In the meantime, his A-graded spatial awareness and risk analysis enabled him to make a mental map of the other Strindheim players around him.

When he established that there wasn't any unmarked Strindheim player in his vicinity, he raced across the pitch towards the sprinting Christopher Moen like the wind. He accelerated to his top speed in an instant, his legs pumping like the pistons of a race car. In no time, he cut off the left-forward as he skipped past Brede Moe, Rosenborg's right-back.

Zachary maintained his composure, slid in, and tackled the ball without making any physical contact with Christopher's legs. He'd made sure to hook the ball when the skipper had just made a turn, cutting back into the pitch—towards goal.

The challenge was successful.

Zachary stopped the ball with an outstretched left foot and sent the skipper tumbling to the ground.

Zachary was sure he'd gotten the challenge right.

He didn't even cast a second glance at Christopher, who was in the middle of faking an injury on the grass.

He quickly picked himself from the ground and passed the ball to Ole Selnæs in defensive midfield right away.

He didn't want to make any complicated plays while the game had just started. He would follow Coach Johansen's advice and grow into the game slowly. He wanted to play it simple until he'd established the skill level of the opponents. That way, he would avoid repeating his previous life's mistakes.