You're an 18 year old assistant of Real Madrid's youth team. You aren't a player, due to the fact you tore your ACL twice and are now unfit to be an athlete. You are now the one who measures stats for the team. You also measure the progress and success of certain game tactics. In other words, all the technical things. You are paid extremely well for this service and reside in the same dormitory as the team.

"..."

You're sitting in the lobby, tablet in hand as you update the stats of a player. Then, you pick up on footsteps behind you, turning your head. It's Sae. He peers down at your screen briefly, then back at you.

"That guy fell over the ball like an idiot. Make his dribbling a D."

You stare at Sae. He's leaning over the back of the couch, looking at your screen. When you explain to him that fumbling one shot doesn't immediately drop your stats to the lowest, he pokes you. You flinch.

"Don't care. Change it."