Zachary smiled as he expertly flicked the ball in-between the last defender's legs using the outer part of his boot. He made a tiny touch that pushed the ball only about a meter away from the defender, into the box.

A figure dashed towards the ball―it was Kasongo! Riga's defenders were beaten and did not react. Kasongo remained unnoticed until he unleashed a missile of a shot towards goal.

The ball exploded away and sped past the keeper. But to Zachary's dismay, it bounced off the post and rebounded into the pitch. Kasongo had missed a good scoring opportunity. He held his head in between his hands in dejection.

"The ball is still in play," Zachary shouted as he chased after the ball that had just bounced close to the penalty spot. His heart pounded louder in his chest as he strained to get to it before Riga's goalkeeper.

However, he wasn't fast enough. The keeper dived incredibly towards the bouncing ball and punched it out of the box, beyond Zachary's reach. He had jumped like an acrobat, a distance of around two meters—to get to the ball before Zachary.

"Freekick," Zachary heard one of his teammates, probably Magnus, shout from behind him. "He pulled at our captain's shirt just in front of the box."

*FWEEEEEEE!*

Hope bloomed inside Zachary as the sound of a whistle followed the entreaty. He turned around only to find the referee, in a yellow uniform, pointing at the spot where the defender had pulled on his shirt. He realized he still had a chance to put the ball into the net. The referee had allowed an advantage to play only because of the goal-scoring opportunity. He had recalled the ball for a freekick as soon as Kasongo missed the chance. And better yet, the setpiece was right at the edge of the box.

The referee showed the tall center-back that had committed the foul a yellow card. The player tried to complain in a language Zachary couldn't understand, probably Latvian or Russian—but the referee was having none of his nonsense. He shooed him away and started arranging for NF academy's freekick.

"Zachary," Coach Johansen shouted from the sidelines. "Try to test their goalkeeper."

Zachary nodded to indicate that he'd received the message. He picked up the ball from the referee and placed it on the ground, a few feet away from the edge of the box.

"I'm sorry I couldn't score," Kasongo came up to him and apologized. "Just don't know what came over me."

Zachary gave his friend a soft smile and replied: "Don't mind that. Focus on the game for now. We need you to stay sharp for the entirety of the match. Even the best players in the world miss chances occasionally. You'll do better on the next opportunity." He advised.

"I will," Kasongo vowed, thumping his chest. "Good luck. I have faith that you'll score." He added before walking away, leaving Zachary standing alone before the ball.

Zachary sighed and shook his head. He understood Kasongo's state of mind. Scoring the freekick would lessen his guilt of missing a golden opportunity.

[I'll try my best.] He vowed inwardly.

The referee soon finished organizing the wall and signaled Zachary to prepare to take the freekick. In the meantime, NF academy's players moved back and forth around the box, attempting to destabilize Riga's defensive line. They did their best to improve their chances of scoring without falling in offside positions.

Zachary calmed his mind and took a few steps back from the ball. He was at the moment of truth. He could finally test the fruits of all his past training in an official match.

He felt his heart pounding harder inside his chest. However, he suppressed his anxiety—by sheer will, and focused on the setpiece.

He then concentrated his mind and observed his surroundings, trying his best to pick out the details that would give him an edge for the freekick. The Riga goalkeeper was slightly short, maybe 5 feet 9, by Zachary's estimation. He was shouting orders to his teammates to position themselves better to bar the freekick from reaching the goal.

The wall was long and high, with taller players in the middle. Zachary resolved to keep the freekick high. That way, the keeper would have no chance of saving it. He had to use his left foot since the freekick was positioned slightly to the right of the goalposts.

When the referee blew the whistle, Zachary ran towards the ball at a measured speed. He fixed his gaze on the ball, made a final jump-step, and smashed the ball with the inside of his left boot.

He aimed to curve the ball past the six-player-wall. The accuracy was somewhat left to chance. He hadn't perfected his Bend-it like Beckham Juju to the level where he would reliably hit the target every single time he took a freekick.

The shot flashed past the defenders, seemingly headed straight for the outside of the goalposts, until it abruptly curved for the top left corner at the last moment. The ball went into the back of the net.

The Riga goalkeeper didn't manage to react. He only turned and watched the ball spinning in the back of the net. 1:0. The NF academy had scored the first goal in the 15th minute.

Zachary celebrated like Paul Otterson, pumping his fists, sharing his elation of scoring the goal with his teammates. There was nothing quite like the joy of working hard towards something and finally achieving it. His setpiece technique had—finally taken shape after months of training.

Meanwhile, a silence swept across the Skonto Arena for the first time since the beginning of the game. Zachary's goal had silenced the cheers of the home fans.

**** ****

"I didn't expect to find such a player in a simple Norwegian academy," said a VfB Stuttgart player of medium build in German. He was in the stands and had just watched Zachary score from the freekick.

"What do you expect," his friend beside him, who was a few inches taller, replied. "Josh, the world is big—and talents are always cropping out from everywhere. Just get used to it." He added nonchalantly.

"I would have loved to compete against him. But unfortunately, he won't make it past the group stages. His team seems like a one-man-army type."

**** ****