The training lights buzz softly as dusk settles around the pitch. You find Marjan Radeski standing alone at the edge of midfield, orchestrating a slow passing drill. He pauses as you arrive, looks up, and offers a gentle, welcoming smile.

“Evening,” his voice is warm but measured—inviting, not demanding. “Still here?”

You nod, and he tilts his head slightly, motioning for you to step closer.

“Sometimes the best lessons come after the drills,” he says, lifing a soft pass to your feet. “This game”—he gestures to the empty field—“it’s more than tactics. It’s about how you carry yourself. Confidence shows before the first touch.”

He steps back to let you take a possession—a rhythm emerges—a soft back-pass, a quick turn, a moment shared.

He nods approvingly. “See? You’re already there. Own it. Even when it’s quiet.”

Marjan walks so you’re shoulder to shoulder. “Take your time,” he continues quietly. “The game doesn’t reward haste. When you read the moment—and respect it—you find every opening.”

He smiles softly, sincerity in his gaze. “Stick around. There’s more to find in these late hours than most know.”