The morning sun peeked through thin gray clouds as Amani trotted onto the senior training pitch at Zoudenbalch. His legs felt a little heavy from last night's heroics, but his heart was light.
Around him, the FC Utrecht first-team squad moved at an easy pace – a light recovery session after the big win.
Coach Jan Wouters stood in the center circle, hands tucked into his jacket, watching his players with a discerning eye. Despite the 6-2 thrashing of VVV-Venlo the day before, Utrecht still sat 11th in the Eredivisie table with five matches remaining.
There was pride in the win, but no one was celebrating like the season was fixed. Wouters had made that clear from the outset.
"Alright, listen up," Wouters called, gathering the players in a loose circle. Amani found himself between two towering teammates, craning his neck to see the coach. Wouters' voice was gruff but upbeat.
"Good result yesterday. Enjoy it, you earned it." A faint smile touched his lips, then just as quickly he set his jaw. "But we're still 11th. That win didn't move us up a single spot." He scanned the circle, making sure the veterans and the youngster alike took his point.
"Five games left to show what we're made of. So we recover today and get back to work. No let-up."
A murmur of agreement rumbled from the players. Amani nodded along, sweat beading on his forehead from the gentle warm-up jog they'd just finished.
He tried to stay inconspicuous, but he could feel a couple of the senior players sneaking glances his way. After all, he wasn't usually part of this group.
Youngest ever player on the team sheet – the media had been buzzing with that fact. Now here he was, the very next morning, standing among men who had been playing pro football longer than he had been alive.
Wouters' stern gaze softened just a touch as it landed on the teenager. "And a quick shout to our debutant," he added, tilting his head toward Amani.
"Well done, kid. You did your job." A few of the players broke into grins and light applause. Amani felt heat rise to his cheeks. He managed a shy smile. You did your job. High praise from a hard-nosed coach like Wouters – Amani would treasure that.
As the circle dispersed for stretching, a broad hand clapped Amani on the shoulder. He looked up to see Nana Asare, the veteran left-back, grinning at him. "Goal and an assist on debut – not bad, eh?" Asare chuckled. "Don't make a habit of outshining us old guys."
Amani laughed nervously. "I-I won't, I promise." His voice cracked slightly, still not quite believing he could even talk to these players as peers.
On his other side, Edouard Duplan gave him a gentle nudge. Duplan was the winger Amani had set up for the fifth goal. "That pass you gave me, perfect weight," Duplan said in his French-accented Dutch. "Keep that up and we'll take a few more of those."
Amani nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you. I just saw you making the run." Inside, he felt a glow of pride.
These were players he'd watched from the academy stands, and now they were patting his back, treating him like one of their own – at least for today.
The recovery session was relaxed and upbeat. The starters who had played most of the match did light jogs and stretches. Those who'd been substitutes, like Amani, joined in a small rondo circle, knocking the ball around in one-touch passes with playful banter.
Amani found himself in a keep-away drill with three first-teamers encircling two who tried to win the ball.
He played simple passes, focusing on not messing up. Every now and then, he'd catch a joking comment – "Don't nutmeg me, Wizard!" one of the midfielders laughed, referencing the nickname fans had given him on social media.
Amani just smiled and kept the ball moving. He didn't try anything flashy; he knew today was about recovery and he was a guest in this environment.
After about half an hour, Wouters blew a whistle. "That's it, lads. Good session. Hit the ice baths and rest up."
As the players started drifting off the field, Wouters approached Amani. The coach's face was calm, appraising. "How're you feeling, Amani?"
"Little sore, sir," Amani admitted honestly, "but good. Ready for more." He straightened up, trying to look determined despite the slight ache in his muscles.
Wouters almost smiled at that. "Glad to hear. You handled yourself well yesterday." The compliment was delivered matter-of-factly, but Amani's chest swelled. "Thank you, Coach," he said quietly.
Jan Wouters gave a curt nod. "Now, back to the academy for you. Coach Pronk is expecting you at U17 training. We'll call you over when we need you, understood?"
"Yes, Coach." Amani didn't hesitate. He knew this was a taste, not a permanent promotion – and honestly, he was okay with that. He loved the first-team experience, every second of it, but there was relief too in returning to familiar ground where his friends would be.
Wouters seemed to read his thoughts. He placed one hand briefly on the boy's shoulder. "Keep your head down and work hard there, just like you did here. And keep listening to Pronk. You're still his player."
There was an emphasis in his tone – a reminder that however bright last night had been, Amani's development continued back with the youth squad day in and day out.
"I will, Coach," Amani promised. He meant it.
"Good. Now off you go." Wouters jerked his chin toward the changing rooms.
Amani quickly showered and changed out of the senior team's training kit, switching back into the academy's colors. The adrenaline from being with the first team was still there, and a wave of fatigue hit him – but it was the good kind of tired, the kind that comes from living a dream.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way across the training complex toward the youth facilities.
Outside on the U17s' practice pitch, a few familiar figures were already passing a ball around. Even before Amani reached them, he could hear excited shouts. Tijmen was the first to spot him jogging over. He let out a loud whoop and started clapping above his head. "Look who it is! Our very own Eredivisie star!" he hollered.
At his shout, the rest of the U17 squad came flooding over from the sideline. In seconds Amani was surrounded by his teammates, a dozen teenage boys all talking and yelling at once.
"Superstar returns!" laughed Malik, throwing an arm around Amani's neck from the side and giving him a playful shake. Malik's smile was practically splitting his face. "Should we ask for autographs now or are you all booked up, Wizard of Galgenwaard?" he teased, eyes gleaming with pride.
Amani groaned in embarrassment, even as he grinned. "Oh, come on…"
"Wizard of Galgenwaard – that's what they're calling you, you know," chimed in Sofyan Amrabat with an affectionate punch to Amani's arm. The midfielder, one of the more talented players in the youth team, was beaming at him. "It was trending on Twitter. You're a legend now, bro."
"Cut it out, guys," Amani protested, though he couldn't stop smiling. To be back among his closest friends, sharing this moment, felt just as incredible as hearing the crowd cheer his name. "I'm not a legend or a wizard or anything. I just got a chance…"
"…and you smashed it!" Tijmen interrupted, his cheeks flushed with excitement. The usually composed captain looked as giddy as a kid. "We all watched the game some in the stands and others in dorm lounge. When you got that assist, man, we went crazy!"
"Coach had the match on the projector for us after our practice," Amrabat added, nodding. "We just about lifted the roof when you scored."
Malik slapped Amani's back. "You should've heard this guy," he said, pointing a thumb at Tijmen. "Screaming like a little girl at a Justin Bieber concert."
Tijmen rolled his eyes but laughed. "Not as loudly as you, Malik. I thought you were going to bust a lung."
Amani's face hurt from smiling so much. He tried to picture it: his best friends gathered around a TV, cheering his goal. The thought made his heart swell.
Last night on the field, in front of thousands, he'd felt shock and joy.
But knowing these guys were celebrating with him in spirit – that meant the world in a different way. "I wish I could've seen that," he said softly. "Honestly, I was thinking of all of you when I was out there."
"Aww," Malik clutched his chest in mock sentiment. "He's still the same ol' Amani, not too big for us yet!"
"Yet!" Amrabat laughed. "Give him a week."
Amani shook his head vigorously. "Never. I'm one of you. Always." And he meant it. The playful jabs, the group hugs – this was home, as much as the roar of Galgenwaard had been.
Tijmen draped an arm over Amani's shoulders. The Dutch boy was taller by a few inches, and he gave Amani a little jostle. "We're proud of you, you know that? Fifteen years old and tearing up the Eredivisie. You make us all dream a bit bigger."
A few others nodded, echoing sentiments: trots op je – proud of you – someone said in Dutch from the back; another clapped and said, "Inspire us too, will you?"
Amani felt a warmth in his chest at that. "I… It was a team effort," he murmured, ducking his head modestly. "The first team guys, they made it easy for me. I was just lucky to be in the right spots."
"Right spots? Pfft!" Malik gently slapped the back of Amani's head. "Don't be so humble, 'Wizard'. That assist was filthy, and that goal? Ice cold finish. Luck nothing."
Amrabat laughed. "He can't even take a compliment. He's hopeless."
Amani shrugged, sheepish. Before he could protest further, a sharp whistle cut through their chatter. Coach Pronk was striding over from the academy building, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Alright, enough, you lot! Unless you plan on gabbing all day, get a move on!" His voice carried its usual authority, but there was a noticeable glint of amusement in his eyes as he approached the huddle of boys.
Assistant Coach Mark de Vries trailed behind him, carrying a laptop under one arm and a small projector in the other.
The U17 players immediately quieted down, though a few couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces. They jogged toward the meeting room at Pronk's beckoning. Malik gave Amani one last playful shove from behind as they went. "Uh oh, looks like the big man has something planned."
***
Any Kind of Engagement is appreciated.