Not just a game

There was a certain electric feeling that came with match days. A weird sharpness in the air, the sense that something big could happen at any moment.

I'd felt it before watching the seniors from the stands or at my academy matches, but this morning... this morning it felt different

When I stepped off the team bus in full kit, that electricity buzzed directly beneath my skin, more intense than ever before. Almost as if it could burn me in a good way.

The Emirates stood strong ahead, red and proud, its towering walls casting long shadows in the crisp morning light. I shifted my boots in my hand, every step forward echoing the thought in my head:

This is real. This is happening. This is my dream.

I wasn't starting. I wasn't even supposed to be on the bench. I probably won't play. I was there to observe, to learn - a privilege in itself if you think about it, also I'm 15. I don't have a rush to play and what maniac would let a 15-year-old play a professional match? However, my nerves didn't care about the plan. They were in full meltdown mode anyway.

"Don't worry, kid," Beth grinned beside me, adjusting her new arsenal hoodie. "You get used to the nerves, the butterflies if you will. You just have to teach them to fly in formation."

I snorted. "Easier said than done."

Behind me, Leah gently bumped her shoulder into mine. "Just keep your eyes open, yeah? Learn everything you can. Soak it in. Your time will come. Enjoy this while you can, not many get to have this feeling."

It was comforting — more than I realised I needed. I nodded and followed the team inside.

The pre-match routine was like a storm. Everyone knew their place, their timing, their rhythm. The music pulsed through the changing room while laughter and last-minute instructions swirled around me. I stood quietly in the corner, absorbing everything. This was their world. And I was barely more than a guest right now. Until Jonas called me over that is.

"Caitlin felt something in her hamstring during warm-up," he said, clipboard in hand. "We're not going to risk her as a precaution. I'm naming you to the bench."

My heart stopped."Wait... what? Why me? Why not someone else?"

"You've trained well. You've shown composure. You're ready to sit with the seniors."

My mouth opened, then closed. I couldn't find the words.

"You're not starting," he added, almost smiling. "But be ready. You never know what might happen. Don't let me down"

I was frozen in place until Leah slid up beside me and casually threw her arm around my shoulder like it was nothing.

"So," she said. "That escalated quickly."

"I don't even have a proper routine for this," I whispered.

She squeezed my shoulder. "You don't need one. Just breathe. You're here. That's already massive."

---
The team sheet was printed. And there it was. My name. Official. Laminated. "17."I stood in the middle of the changing room holding the kit like it might dissolve in my hands. Red, bold, and somehow heavier than it looked. I'd dreamed of this moment a thousand times, but none of those dreams included the real-life terror coiled in my gut.

"You look like you just saw your GCSE results," Katie said, walking past with a smirk.

"Worse," I mumbled. "I think I'm going to have to play. Also, my GCSEs aren't going well so if football doesn't work out I'm screwed, I mean what the hell is a circle theorem."