Chapter 315: Grinta
Michael stopped at the edge of the training pitch.
Or rather, what used to be the training pitch.
Michael blinked slowly. The pristine, freshly cut green grass was completely gone. In its place was a massive, blindingly white expanse of pure, imported sea sand. There were palm trees in large ceramic pots. There were brightly colored sun loungers. There was even a tiki bar serving fresh fruit smoothies.
Arthur Milton, Michael’s fiercely loyal assistant, was standing next to a mountain of sand, looking entirely defeated. He was holding his tactical clipboard in one hand and a neon-pink coconut drink in the other.
"Arthur..." Michael said quietly, keeping his voice dangerously calm. "What happened to my pitch?"
"It’s Kenji, Boss," Arthur sighed, taking a sip from the coconut. "He said the players were too stressed about playing Atletico Madrid. He said they needed to relax. So... he imported five hundred tons of white sand from Ibiza."
Michael stared at the scene.
"Looks like some players are going to the beach..." Arthur muttered, pointing toward the center of the fake coastline.
Sure enough, the Barnsley first team was fully embracing the billionaire’s madness.
Jax was wearing designer swimming trunks, recording a TikTok dance near a plastic flamingo. Enzo Moretti was lying on a sun lounger, wearing expensive sunglasses and sipping an espresso while complaining to Leo Rossi about the lack of authentic Italian gelato. Arda Güler and Kaito Tanaka were burying the backup goalkeeper in the sand.
Kenji Sato suddenly popped out from behind the tiki bar, wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt and a straw hat.
"Boss~!" Kenji cheered, waving a pineapple in the air. "Welcome to Club Barnsley! I told you I would take care of the team’s morale! Diego Simeone is a very scary man, so I brought the vacation to Yorkshire! The sand is very soft~!"
Michael didn’t yell. He didn’t lose his temper. He was an architect of human performance, and an architect never complains about the materials; he simply finds a way to build with them.
He walked onto the sand. His expensive leather shoes immediately sank into the soft, white grains.
The players noticed him approaching. The laughter died down. Jax quickly put his phone away. Enzo sat up, lowering his sunglasses. Kaito stopped pouring sand on the goalkeeper’s head.
"Boss..." Kaito smiled nervously. "We were just... team bonding...?"
Michael stood in the center of the artificial beach, looking at his squad. They looked relaxed. They looked soft.
"Arthur," Michael called out over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with his players. "Yesterday, when we were watching the defense fall apart in practice, you said something to me. Do you remember?"
Arthur nervously walked onto the sand, his shoes sinking just like Michael’s. "Uh... I said a lot of things, Boss. I eat a lot of sugar, I talk fast..."
"You said," Michael stated clearly, his voice carrying over the artificial beach, "maybe we need more practice on defense before the Friendly tournament."
"Ah. Yes. I did say that," Arthur nodded, clutching his clipboard tightly.
"You were right, Arthur," Michael smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the terrifying, calculating smile of a manager who had just found a new way to torture his squad. "And Kenji has graciously provided us with the ultimate defensive training facility."
Kenji blinked from behind the tiki bar. "I did...?"
"Yes," Michael turned to the players. "Do you know why Brazilian players have such incredible balance and stamina? Because they grow up playing football on the beaches of Rio. Sand absorbs energy. It ruins your momentum. It makes every single step feel like you are lifting a boulder."
[Ding!]
A translucent blue screen flashed right in front of Michael’s eyes.
[Football Empire System]
[Environmental Modulator Activated: The Ibiza Resistance!]
[Description: The squad has entered a high-resistance training zone. All physical exertion is multiplied by 300%.]
[Objective: Complete a 90-minute defensive transition drill in the sand.]
[Reward: +25% Stamina, +15% Core Balance, ’Tireless Lungs’ Squad Trait.]
Michael swiped the holographic screen away. This was perfect.
"Bastion!" Michael barked loudly.
From the shadows of the complex building, Bastion King emerged. The giant offensive coach was already wearing heavy combat boots and holding a massive bag of footballs. He looked at the sand, looked at the terrified players, and grinned a truly evil grin.
"Tracksuits," Bastion growled, dropping the bag of footballs onto the sand with a heavy thud. "Now. Put your boots on. We are doing one-on-one defending drills until the sun goes down."
"But Boss~!" Jax whined, looking at his bare feet. "The sand will get in my boots! It will ruin my pedicure!"
"If you don’t put your boots on right now, Jax, I will sell you to a third-division club in Iceland," Michael said entirely deadpan.
Within exactly three minutes, the entire squad was lined up on the sand, fully dressed in their training gear. They looked miserable. The heat was bouncing off the white sand, making the air feel thick and heavy.
"Lisandro!" Michael called out.
Lisandro ’The Butcher’ Martinez stepped forward. Unlike the others, the Argentine defensive midfielder looked absolutely thrilled. He was practically vibrating with aggressive energy.
"I love the beach, Boss~!" Lisandro laughed, pounding his chest. "In South America, we wrestle bulls in the sand to get strong! Let me at them!"
"You are the attacker," Michael instructed Lisandro, pointing to the end of the sand pitch. "Liam, Davies, you are the defenders. This is a pure mechanics drill. I will tell you exactly what is happening, and you will execute it. Arda, Kaito, Enzo... you will watch how difficult it is to defend when you have no pace to rely on."
Michael blew his whistle.
Peeeeeep!
Bastion threw a ball into the sand. Lisandro charged at it like a wild animal. He controlled the ball and sprinted toward Liam.
Usually, Liam would back off, terrified of the attacker’s speed. But in the sand, Lisandro wasn’t fast. The soft ground sucked the explosive pace right out of his legs.
"Step up, Liam!" Michael yelled from the sideline. "The sand neutralizes his speed! This is pure physical leverage! Drop your hips! Use your upper body!"
Liam gritted his teeth and stepped forward. Without the fear of being outrun, the young Barnsley center-back actually held his ground. He dropped his center of gravity, slammed his shoulder into Lisandro’s chest, and cleanly hooked the ball away.
Lisandro went tumbling into the sand, popping up immediately with a massive, sand-covered grin. "Yes! That is it! Good hit, English! Feel the contact!"
"Do you see?" Michael asked, turning to Kaito and Arda. "Defending isn’t just about running backwards. It’s about dominating the physical space. Our defenders have been relying too much on pace. By removing the pace, they are forced to learn true body mechanics."
Arda Güler watched intently, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the drill. The young Turkish prince was known for his elegant passing, but he was starting to realize that the Premier League, and this Barnsley team, required a different kind of monster.
"My turn," Arda said suddenly, stepping onto the sand. He pointed at Lisandro. "Let me attack him."
"Arda, no," Enzo warned softly. "He is crazy. He will eat you."
"I am not scared of the Butcher," Arda replied, his competitive spirit flaring up.
Michael nodded to Bastion. Bastion tossed another ball into the sand.
Arda received the ball. He tried to do his signature quick-turn, the exact move that had embarrassed the Barnsley defenders yesterday on the grass.
But the sand didn’t allow it. His boots sank. The turn was a fraction of a second too slow.
That fraction of a second was all Lisandro needed.
The Argentine didn’t just tackle Arda; he absolutely bulldozed him. Lisandro slid through the thick sand, taking the ball and sending the eighty-five-million-pound signing flying into a massive sand dune.
"Welcome to the beach, superstar~!" Lisandro roared, kicking the ball into the empty net.
Arda sat up, spitting white sand out of his mouth. He looked completely shocked, but then, slowly, a determined smile spread across his face. He wiped the sand from his eyes and stood up.
"Again," Arda demanded, clapping his hands. "Throw the ball again!"
Michael watched the scene unfold with deep satisfaction. For the next two hours, the Barnsley squad threw themselves into the sand. Kaito tried to sprint and collapsed from exhaustion. Jax tried to do a step-over and tripped over his own feet. Enzo tried to play a long pass and realized he had no power without solid ground.
But the defenders... the defenders thrived. Liam and Davies were learning how to use their weight. They were learning how to grapple, how to block, how to suffer.
By the time the sun began to set over Yorkshire, the entire team was lying flat on their backs in the sand, completely motionless. They were covered in sweat and dirt, their lungs burning.
[Ding!]
[System Alert!]
[Ibiza Resistance Drill Completed!]
[Defensive Cohesion increased by 30%. Stamina limits broken.]
[Squad Trait Unlocked: ’Grinta’ (Willpower in Defensive Actions increased by 50%)]
