Chapter 46: Volume 1, - 46: Names on the Training Board
The acrylic dry-erase board hung on the wall just inside the tunnel doors of Pitch 3, framed by blue aluminium trim and dusted with faint ghost marks from three different tactical sessions earlier that day.
By late afternoon, the U16 squad had gathered beneath the overhang. The air off the Tejo was cool, carrying the sharp salt smell of the estuary across the low perimeter fencing, but on the turf, the late-afternoon sun was still warming the rubber crumb along the touchlines.
Rayan stopped two paces back from the group, adjusting his left boot. His calf felt clear. No tight knot beneath the surface, no dull ache when he pushed down onto his heel, but he still caught himself checking his weight distribution every time he shifted onto his left foot.
At the top of the board, under the date 16 Maio, João Tavares had written the starting XI for the session’s main attacking-pattern phase:
Diogo Ramos
Miguel Correia — Duarte Lopes — Afonso Carvalho — Nuno Valente
Nunes
Tomás Veiga — Matias
Duarte Faria — Tiago Silva — Bernardo Rocha (14)
Below the line, under Rotations / Opposition Unit, six names were listed in blue ink:
Rayan (11), Rodrigo Neves, Martim Sequeira, Lucho Fernandes, Gui Matos, Rody Esteves.
"Left side first block, Bernardo," Tavares said, stepping out from the corridor behind them. "Rayan, you swap in for the second and third repetitions. Opposition block first, working against Nuno and Afonso."
Bernardo nodded, jogging out onto the grass towards the bib pile. Rayan stayed where he was for an extra second, studying the board.
Duarte Faria was already on the pitch, bouncing lightly on his feet. He didn’t look at the board; he was already settled on the right wing of the main group.
"Rayan," Luís Neto said softly, holding his clipboard against his chest. "The calf is fine?"
"Feels normal, Coach. No pain or tightness."
"Good," Neto said, his voice flat. "Then make sure your decisions are clean too. You’re not here to test your leg today. You’re here to play football."
The first phase was a build-up pattern starting with Diogo Ramos in goal.
Working from the right side of the blue opposition unit, Rayan watched Duarte Faria operate on the opposite flank.
When Miguel Correia received the ball, Duarte dropped three steps short, dragged Rodrigo Neves two yards out of position, and clipped the ball back to Tomás Veiga with his first touch. Before Veiga set his feet, Duarte spun into the space behind Neves, received the return pass in stride, and delivered a low cross across the six-yard box for Tiago Silva to attack.
The sequence took less than six seconds. No pauses, no extra adjustments.
"Good rhythm, Duarte," Tavares called out. "Simple. Next ball, Ramos."
After twelve minutes, Tavares blew two short blasts on his whistle.
"Swap the left wingers," he called out. "Bernardo, blue bib. Rayan, main shape."
Rayan pulled off the blue bib and walked into the attacking unit. Neves jogged across to the opposite side of the defending unit as the groups reset. Nuno Valente stood ten yards behind Rayan at left-back, while Matias hovered in the left channel between the opposition lines, and Tiago Silva raised a hand to demand the ball early.
Tavares dropped a fresh ball at Afonso Carvalho’s feet.
"Listen," Tavares said, pointing at Rayan. "The fullback on your side is protecting the inside channel. He knows you want to cut in on your right foot."
Rayan nodded. "Understood."
"If the central route is closed," Tavares continued, "you receive and release the ball in no more than two touches. No more. Touch one to control or set, touch two to pass. Play simple."
He stepped back and raised his whistle. "Live!"
Afonso played a crisp pass to Nunes, who swept the ball wide to Rayan on the left touchline.
Rodrigo Neves closed down instantly, his body angled to force Rayan down the line towards his weaker left foot. Rayan cushioned the ball with the inside of his right boot.
’Touch one.’
In his head, he wanted to square Neves up. To take one small touch forward, shift his hips, and force the defender to commit before making a decision. He dragged the ball forward with his sole.
’Touch two.’
Neves didn’t bite. He took half a step back, maintaining his angle and keeping the lane to Matias covered. Rayan hesitated, then clipped the ball inside towards Matias.
’Touch three.’
Two blue shirts had already squeezed the space. Matias stretched for the late pass, but the opposition central midfielder stepped in and cleared it.
Nuno Valente threw his hands up in frustration, stopping his overlap mid-stride. Tiago Silva, who had made a diagonal sprint into the box, slowed to a walk and shook his head.
FWEEET.
Tavares blew his whistle, walking slowly into the left channel until he stopped right where Rayan stood.
"Why did you take the third touch?" Tavares asked.
"I wanted to face him up, Coach," Rayan said. "To force him to shift his feet so I could find Matias."
"Touch three killed two runs," Tavares said. "Nuno was already outside you. Tiago had already gone. By the time you faced Neves, both options were finished and the defence had reset. Two touches."
He gestured towards the pitch. "If the inside is closed, set it back or release the overlap immediately. Again. From Afonso."
Tavares turned and walked away.
Rayan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Across the pitch, Duarte Faria was standing near the touchline. His face was entirely blank, showing neither satisfaction nor disdain as he adjusted his shin guards and waited for the restart.
"Rayan," Matias said quietly, jogging past. "Don’t look at Neves. Look at my hips. If I’m turned to you, set it straight away. I’ll worry about the defender."
Rayan took a deep breath. "Got it."
"Live!" Tavares called out.
Afonso played the ball to Nunes, who laid it off to Tomás Veiga. Veiga immediately sprayed a diagonal pass out to Duarte on the right.
Duarte didn’t let the ball settle. As it arrived, he used his first touch to cushion it directly into the path of Miguel Correia overlapping at speed. Duarte then sprinted inside, dragging his defender with him, opening space for Correia to drive towards the penalty area.
"That’s the rhythm!" Tavares shouted. "Next ball, Ramos!"
The ball cycled back to the goalkeeper. Ramos threw it out to Duarte Lopes, who passed wide to Nuno Valente. Nuno hit a firm, ground-level pass straight into Rayan’s feet along the touchline.
Neves closed down instantly to block the inside cut.
’Scan.’
Before the ball arrived, Rayan glanced over his right shoulder. He saw Matias hovering seven yards inside, then checked Neves’s body shape as the full-back closed him down.
The ball reached Rayan’s right boot. He cushioned it half a step inside without turning to face Neves.
’Touch one.’
Matias was still available. Rayan used his next touch to set the ball into the space in front of him.
’Touch two.’
The moment the pass left his foot, Rayan peeled down the touchline, dragging Neves wide and reopening the lane.
Matias took the set pass on the half-turn, drove into the central space, and slipped a through-ball for Tiago Silva, who slammed a low shot into the bottom corner.
"Better!" Tavares called out from the middle. "That is two touches. That is the tempo!"
Nuno Valente jogged past Rayan, tapping his shoulder. "Much better, Rayan."
Rayan didn’t celebrate. He walked back to his mark, his breathing heavy.
When the session ended, the squad gathered near the bench to unlace their boots. Tavares walked over to the dry-erase board to sketch notes for video analysis. As Rayan bent down, Tavares stopped beside him.
"Tomorrow," Tavares said quietly. "Video first. Then the same pattern on the left side."
Rayan looked up. "Yes, Coach."
"You did it once today," Tavares added. "Tomorrow, I want ten in a row. Go get changed."
Tavares walked towards the coaches’ room with Neto. Rayan pulled off his left boot, set it beside his right, and looked back at the board near the tunnel doors. His name was still written in blue ink below the line, but he knew exactly what he had to deliver when the balls were dropped onto the turf the following day.