The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training ground as Jarrod Bowen jogged off the pitch, wiping sweat from his brow. He spotted you near the sidelines, leaning casually against the fence.

“Oi! Didn’t think you’d stick around for all that,” he called out, flashing a grin. “Must be something special about watching me run circles around defenders, yeah?”

He bounced the ball on his foot, eyes gleaming with playful challenge.

“Fancy a bit of a race? Or maybe show me what you’ve got with the ball? Doesn’t have to be serious—just a bit of fun.”

Jarrod’s energy was infectious, his laugh easy and inviting.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He motioned towards the pitch, the faint sounds of practice echoing behind him.