The Meza brothers were a pair of left and right backs. Average in everything except some places I appreciated in my backs. Kenzie Meza was seventeen, one seventy-five and weighted seventy kilograms. He could run for hours. Or that was how I interpreted the thirteen and fourteen in Stamina and Natural Fitness. He could even pass a half decent ball with an eight in passing. His positioning and dribble where good enough, with two sevens. I would have selected him for a place on the midfield. But his Decision attribute was lacking and I like my midfielders to have some Anticipation.

His brother, Arkin Meza, was almost a direct copy of him in attributes, size, and weight. He was eighteen, one centimeter longer, and they weighed the same. But instead of Kenzies long breath, Arthur had much more pace and acceleration. Both being thirteen. They both averaged at three point two attribute points and I felt like they were two great additions to the football I wanted to play.

That was taking into consideration they also were in a punk band. Had quit smoking pot only two years ago and stopped drinking alcohol only last year. Kenzie still smoked and Arkin had the habit to steal small stuff. Things I would let them reconsider once they joined.

The intended sub was another fifteen years old, under the name of Benoit Beattie. I would lie if I said I didn’t choose him for a big part for his name. It was a wondrous name. But the biggest part was that the little imp had two preferred feet entries. Which meant he was both left and right. That was great when I needed someone for both the left and the right as a stand-in. That and his physical attributes weren’t half bad, and he had a good positioning attribute. The rest was about the same as the other youngster Dewey. It had potential, but not there yet.

The guy also had a hilarious background story. Where, it stated, that his will to win came from the time a group of Great Dane puppies had chased him. He had been seven when, in front of the puppies and his little group of friends, he had soiled his pants out of fear for the little fur balls. After that, he vowed to never get humiliated like that again. It also brought along a rather sensitive personality.

At present, I was going through the keepers, a grand total of five. It was the only group of players where I couldn’t pick a defender to play as a striker or vice versa. Keepers were special. They had special attributes. This was the reason I could choose two keepers out of five available choices. Not much of a choice at all.

When I was looking through them, the door opened and Riley came into the dressing room. I smiled at her and said “Done with throwing a tantrum? Or you want to go another round?”

She looked ashamed enough that it felt believable as she said, “I’m sorry, please let me join again.” She fidgeted with her fingers while looking at my feet as she waited for me to reply.

I wanted to laugh but knew that would only make her angry and storm off again. Which was funny as well but rather unproductive. I was not angry she stormed out. If it was in front of the group, sure. But we weren’t there yet, she could still be unreasonable like her age suggested her to be.

“Sure.” I paused for a second and then said “Not sure why you got so mad though. If I can’t bully the young and make them do the exhausting stuff then what use is growing old?”

She bit her lip and her eyes got that watery sheen when a person was about to pour their heart out. Then came the tears as she looked at me and said “My father…” she choked a little, “He always asked if I wanted to be his assistant when I was little. But I never felt like it. I…” Small tears went passed her cheeks, and it wasn’t long before she sobbed. But instead of the sensible thing of crumbling to the ground, she took two steps forward and bear hugged me. Squeezing all the air out me. This girl had some serious strength.

I brought an awkward arm around her thin shoulders and placed my free hand on her head. I tapped it and said “There there. It’s all right. I won’t fire you for being weak.” I tried to joke my way out of it but she gripped me tighter. It might have sounded harsher than intended.

“You should never squeeze an old man so hard. You never know what will fall out.” I tried again, but she didn’t budge. Loud sobs came out of the small teen. The kind where you are unsure if they can still breathe and are not choking themselves. A small part of me wanted to comfort her and tell her it was all right to be sad. But the largest part, the part I tried to suppress, felt the need to say she should man up so we could get things done. For a change.

I didn’t want to be a bastard, so I waited a few minutes, letting her be. Sometimes even patting her head for comfort. But after five minutes I was getting restless and said, while tapping her head again “Hey, Hey. What will the neighbors say? Hugging me like this. This is pretty indecent of you, you know. I’m way too old for you.”

A small snort came through the sobs and she whispered “Bastard… can’t even let me grieve in peace.”

With a sad smile on her face and messed up hair she let go of me and sat on the bench. Wiping the tears off her face, she looked up at me, as I was still standing and said, “So what are we doing.”

“Getting this beast of a keeper,” I replied as I smiled and waved the piece of paper in my hand around.

“Really?” she asked surprised as she snorted the snot back up that had been gushing out of her nose and onto my suit. Then wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Eyes still watery, red and puffy.

“No. Of course not. Now wipe the snot off your face in the real before it cakes onto your upper lip like a mustache and we can’t go out with you anymore. Drink a glass of water. Then return with the time Norma is planning to feed me dinner. Prepare me a cigarette, my favorite wheelchair, and my bathrobe.” I said to the slave girl, I mean, assistant.

She stood up, gave me the finger and was about to leave, when she asked, “Wait, you play in the nude?”

“Is there any other way?” I asked as I pulled up my brows in mock surprise.

“Eeeel, that is disgusting man. No way I’m coming into your room now.” She left with that like a mirage never existing. Genuinely disgusted. At least she wasn’t crying or mad anymore...

“Teenage girls man. Teenage girls.” I shook my head and went back to the task at hand, a Keeper.