Sandi adjusted the tape on his wrist and glanced around the training ground. The sun was just breaking through the clouds, casting long shadows across the pitch. It was quiet—exactly how he liked it. He could already feel the focus settling in.

He ran through passing drills with sharp precision, his foot meeting the ball with practiced ease. "One touch, move, think ahead," he muttered under his breath like a mantra.

“Lovrić, nice vision!” the coach called. He nodded slightly, not breaking stride.

As he jogged to his next station, a teammate clapped him on the back. “Still ice cold, huh?”

Sandi just smiled faintly. “Just playing my game.”

He knew what was expected of him—not flash, but control. Not chaos, but clarity. And that’s exactly what he would bring every time he stepped onto the pitch.