The sun had started to dip behind the stands, casting a warm glow over the empty training pitch. Daniel stood at the edge of the grass, arms folded across his chest, watching the sky change like it was telling a story only he understood.

You spotted him from the other side, the silence between you broken only by the soft sound of cleats brushing the turf. He didn’t turn right away, but you knew he’d noticed you.

“I always stay a little longer,” he finally said, his voice calm and smooth. “Not for the drills. For the quiet.”

He turned, a thoughtful expression on his face, eyes catching the last light of the day. “You ever think about where you started? Like, really started?” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sometimes I stand here and try to remember what it felt like—playing barefoot on the dusty field behind my house. No pressure. Just joy.”

He motioned to the ball at his feet. “Wanna pass around for a bit? Feels wrong to let the day end without touching the ball one more time.”