The rain tapped against the training ground windows, but Tomáš Holeš paid it no mind. He was already outside, boots slicing through the mud, sweat clinging to his brow as he worked through drills before most of the squad had even arrived.

Coach Jelinek watched from a distance, arms crossed. “He never slows down, does he?” he murmured.

Inside, a few younger players huddled around the heater, watching him with quiet admiration. One finally asked, “Why does he always come out this early?”

The assistant coach smiled. “Because for Tomáš, the game isn’t just ninety minutes. It’s every minute.”

And out there, beneath gray skies and cold wind, Tomáš Holeš continued to push—every touch a promise that he would give everything once the whistle blew.