The Greatest of all Time

Zachary managed to complete the set of fifty repetitions of knee tuck classic planks when it was already forty minutes to eleven. It was almost time for the match video review meeting with coach Johansen and the rest of the Rosenborg match squad members to commence.

He quickly thanked Coach Bj?rn Peters and said his goodbyes before rushing out of the gym like the wind. He jogged the entire way through the corridors, running past a few Rosenborg employees who were cleaning or moving equipment, and finally arrived at one of the bathroom areas.

Without wasting any time, he undressed and entered the shower right away. His actions were hurried since he didn't intend to end up late for the team meeting slated to begin at 11:00 AM. He had only thirty-five minutes to get ready. He stood under the showerhead, letting the heated water wash away all the sweat his body had accumulated from the two-hour workout.

When he finished cleaning up, he observed himself in the mirror as he dried it up with a towel.

A face with a chiseled jawline and pronounced angular cheekbones stared back at him. It had deep-set brown eyes, just beneath a prominent forehead, that matched well with its overgrown dark hair. Below the face was a chest and a pair of shoulders, built like a tank, making the mirror image all the more imposing.

Zachary smiled, feeling pleased with his reflection. After toiling on a daily basis over the past year, he had developed lean muscles that compounded well with his height. His body didn't look out of proportion or overly buff despite his looming height of six feet four. He wasn't like a Peter Crouch, but more of a Zlatan Ibrahimovi? body type. That, coupled with his ebony skin tone, made him look as if he was all muscles of steel.

Zachary hummed an African Lingala tune as he took extra care to rid his hair of moisture with a handheld drier. He had let it grow over the past year on just a whim to alter his image. It had grown long enough for him to easily tie into an afro-styled bun at the back of his head. Although it was a hustle to clean the overgrown hair, it was worth the effort since it made him look more dignified—and different from his previous life's self. Zachary liked that.

When he had finished drying and combing through his hair, he donned his black Rosenborg tracksuit in the dressing room before rushing to the canteen to grab a quick bite. Even though he was close to running late, he still had to replenish his energy reserves after the two-hour intensive workout that morning. So, he quickly gobbled up an egg omelet with avocado spread on toast and drank some juice at the canteen while keeping a close eye on his watch.

After finishing his meal, he felt reinvigorated and full of energy once more. He rushed to the tactics room without further ado. He was one of the last players to arrive for the meeting. Most of the other first-team players like Lund Hansen, the goalkeeper, Tore Reginiussen, the captain, Mikael Dorsin, the assistant captain, and Nicki Nielsen had already taken their seats in the room. But the good news was that Coach Johansen and his assistants were yet to arrive. Zachary let out a pent-up breath of air and silently slipped into the room without drawing any attention.

None of the players tried to invite him to join their small groups since they knew that trying to hold a conversation with Zachary was a lost cause. Over the past two months, he had built himself a not-so-good reputation in the team. He hadn't interacted much with the other players—which distanced him further from them. He'd become the complete loner—the guy who came to the pitch and trained silently without involving himself in any small talk. So, most of the players kept their distance, only talking to him when it mattered.

Zachary, though, didn't mind the isolation since that had been his intention when he'd made the decision to limit his interaction with the other players. After realizing that he was still prone to the anger issues that had dogged his past life, he'd decided to reduce his interaction with others.

In that way, he would stay a neutral party since he would never get the opportunity to be angry at them. So far, the tactic had worked pretty well and even afforded him a few advantages. Thanks to his loner-type lifestyle on the team, he had more time to train than his colleagues.

Zachary found himself a chair at the very back and started eavesdropping on the conversations around him.

"Most of the referee's decisions didn't make much sense," said Mike Jensen, the starting central midfielder, from one of the seats in the middle of the room. "I can understand Tore's sending-off since it was a last-man professional foul. But, the second yellow of Nicki, that was absurd."

Zachary's ears perked up, wishing to hear more of the midfielder's take on the previous day's Tippeligaen match. He'd watched the game from the stands since he wasn't on the squad. It had been one of the upsets of the season.

Rosenborg BK had lost to Sandnes Ulf 0:1 at home with the entire first-team squad present. Moreover, that was their second consecutive miserable performance. Before that game, Rosenborg had tied 1:1 against IK Start at home. Then, the troll kids had gone on to lose 3:1 against FK Haugesund away from home. Rosenborg's situation wasn't so good with three wins, one draw, and two losses—as the results for the new season. The fans were not happy in the slightest. They'd taken to social media to express their discontent about the club's circumstances and, of course, the poor management.

"But we still underperformed during the game," Mikael Dorsin, the veteran defender, chipped in. "Tore's red card came in the 66th minute. We had not managed to score a goal by then. We have no one to blame but ourselves for losing that game."

"True," Nicki Nielsen said. "During that game, I don't know what happened to me. I couldn't beat the keeper even when I had that clear chance in the 30th minute."

"Let's not dwell in the past," Mikael said, patting the striker's back. "You tried your best in the game, but luck was not on our side. We will surely win next time."

Zachary continued listening silently to the discussion until the coaches arrived. The match video review meeting begun then.

"Good morning to you all," Coach Johansen greeted after placing his folder on the desk at the front of the room. Meanwhile, Trond Henriksen, the assistant coach, started setting up the video equipment.

"Good morning, coach," the players replied in chorus. They all stopped their conversations and focused their attention on him.

"Did you all rest well?" The coach smiled, starting to walk around the room slowly.

"Yes, coach," the players replied, many of them grinning.

"Oh, that's great," the coach intoned. "I hope you all went through post-match recovery. You all need to be ready for the game against Strindheim." He added, continuing to move around the room.

"Daniel, how's the family?"

"They are doing great. How is yours?"

"They're as fine as they could be."

"...Mike, are you settling in well?"

"...Inge, how is that leg of yours? Did you put some ice on it?

"...Cristian..."

Coach Johansen did not start the meeting right away as he'd always done in the academy. Instead, he first went around the room making small talk and, at times, high-fiving the players while waiting for the assistant coach to finish connecting the video equipment. The coach took great care to ask about the affairs of all the players. Sometimes, it was about the family, at other times an injury, or even a girlfriend. And finally, he came to the back of the room where Zachary was seated.

"Zach," the coach said, bumping fists with him. "How do you feel?"

"Great, and you?" Zachary replied perfunctorily. He'd developed some negative feelings about his coach after being left out of the squad for the first six matches of the new Tippeligaen season. That was even after training like a maniac under supervision for two months. The coach hadn't even called him for a single first-team meeting for the entire period. He couldn't help but feel like Coach Johansen had betrayed him.

"I'm also doing okay, but just okay," the coach replied, inclining his head and studying Zachary with a thoughtful expression. "Are you ready to go into action on Wednesday?" He asked after a moment.

"Of course, I'm ready." Zachary smiled slightly. "I've always been ready ever since graduating from the academy. I only need a chance to showcase my skills." He said, without minding the players around him. He needed to let them know that he would be fighting for a first-team number with all the effort he could muster. Moreover, Coach Johansen should have been using the chance to pressure the senior players by informing them that a new player was joining the regulars. As a result, they would feel threatened and work harder to keep their positions.

"That's good to hear," Coach Johansen said, half-smiling. "I'll be giving you a chance in the Wednesday match. I hope you do use it well."

"Thank you, coach," Zachary replied, finally feeling his mood lighten. He didn't mind whether Coach Johansen was just using him to pressure the players into working harder. Nothing else mattered as long as he got a chance to play professional football.

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