Windsor was the name of a street, Windsor Street, a well-known road in the area because a famous school also stood on it—Windsor School.
Windsor was a through school, offering continuous education from primary to junior high and all the way through high school.
Less than two kilometers east of Windsor Street was another road called Cambridge Road, home to a school named Cambridge. In this less-than-affluent neighborhood, the two schools stood like Oxford and Cambridge, engaging in healthy competition.
Every year, the schools organized football matches for all age groups, known as the Newton Heath Cup. The tournament had been ongoing since the schools were founded and was said to have lasted over thirty years.
Though the teams occasionally played friendlies against other schools, nothing compared in importance to this event. The Newton Heath Cup was, for both schools, as significant as the Champions League final.
This year's big match was scheduled to take place at Cambridge School.
"Ishmael, I heard Windsor has two new players this year, from a football club's youth team."
Two boys of similar age walked into the school gates. One was very tall, likely over 1.7 meters, and looked strong. The other was shorter and thinner.
"Which club?" the tall boy, Ishmael, asked in surprise.
"Seems like it's Manchester United!" the shorter boy replied.
Ishmael frowned and thought for a moment. "That can't be. United's youth teams train in Carrington. Why would they come study in Newton Heath? You mean New Manchester United?"
"Oh right, yeah, New Manchester United!"
"New Manchester United has a youth academy now?" Ishmael sounded puzzled.
"I heard one of them is Argentine, a forward. The other's from London, a center-back. Thanks to them, Windsor beat Newton last month!"
Newton was another nearby primary school. They had played a warm-up match against Windsor not long ago. Messi had scored five goals, and Curtis added a header.
"Oh? They're that good?" Ishmael didn't sound convinced. "How good can a youth team from an amateur club really be?"
"I'm not sure how good they are, but I heard the Argentine kid is really short, way shorter than me. The London kid though, he's solid."
Ishmael scoffed. "Just wait. I'll make sure to crush them."
The two boys quickened their pace, running toward the sports field.
Ethan, Walsh, Evra, and Bruce followed behind, all smiling wryly.
"This kid is cocky. He's looking down on our club," Ethan joked lightly, not the type to argue with children.
Walsh and Bruce laughed along.
Today was a day off for the team. Ethan had promised Messi and Curtis that he'd come watch their match. Walsh and Bruce had nothing else to do, so they came along, and Evra tagged along to cheer for his friends.
As they reached the school sports field, they could already see a group of children gathered. Players from both school teams were changing and warming up near the two goalposts.
Among them, Ishmael and Curtis were the tallest. Though Ishmael looked one or two years younger than Curtis, his eyes were filled with provocation whenever he looked at him.
One was a forward, the other a center-back. A clash of eyes naturally sparked a strong sense of rivalry.
"Leo, Curtis!" Evra called out as soon as they reached the sideline.
"Patrice! Boss, Mr. Walsh, Mr. Bruce, you're all here!" Leo and Curtis ran over excitedly to greet them.
"Leo, how's your form today?" Walsh asked with a smile.
"No problem!" Messi answered confidently.
"Curtis, be careful of that striker. Don't be fooled by his tall and strong frame. From what I can see, he's got great footwork and pace. Do you remember what I taught you?" Bruce pulled Curtis aside.
Curtis nodded firmly. "I remember. Against faster players, we need to stay close, hold our position, and not give them space to use their speed. If we really can't stop them, then take them down hard!"
Ethan broke into a cold sweat nearby. Was this really what Bruce was teaching kids?
But Bruce, hearing this, nodded with satisfaction. "That's right. Remember what I taught you, and play well."
At that moment, a young player ran over from the goal, holding a captain's armband. He handed it to Curtis.
"Curtis, the teacher said you're captain for this match."
Curtis didn't hesitate at all. He put it on, then pointed to the kid who brought him the armband.
"Boss, that's Michael, our core midfielder. His parents are sending him to Manchester City's academy. You should keep an eye on him. If you like him, I'll help you poach him!"
Walsh and Bruce immediately turned to look at Ethan, as if to say, "Are you trafficking kids now?"
Ethan looked awkward. He raised his hand and gave Curtis a hard pat on the shoulder.
"Focus on your own football, kid. We've got our own club plans. Don't go interfering in other people's family decisions."
"Boss, you've got to believe me. Michael listens to me the most. If I tell him not to go, he definitely won't. Ask Leo if you don't believe me!"
Messi nodded vigorously on the side, clearly backing Curtis up.
"Alright, enough chatter. Your teacher's calling."
Curtis and Messi glanced over and quickly ran off, leaving the four of them behind. Even though it was just a warm-up match between primary schoolers, the school still brought in three amateur referees to officiate.
Once the referee blew the whistle, Messi stood in the center circle and passed the ball back to Michael.
Michael played as the central midfielder. Though young, he played with calmness and control. His passing and movement were solid, and he was the team's primary distributor in midfield.
Messi up front, Michael in the middle, Curtis at the back. Windsor played through this core trio. Wherever the ball moved, it was rarely separated from these three.
After a few minutes of feeling out the pace and adjusting to the match atmosphere, the kids began to loosen up.
"Go!" Curtis intercepted a through ball aimed at Ishmael, dribbled forward a couple of steps, and passed to Michael. At the same time, he motioned for the team to push up.
"This kid's getting cocky now that he's captain," Ethan joked with a chuckle.
But Bruce shook his head. "Curtis has improved a lot lately. Putting him in training with the first team was the right call."
On the pitch, Michael received the ball, distributed it to the wing, and when that path was blocked, quickly recycled it.
Messi, who hadn't touched the ball yet, dropped back into space. Michael's pass landed perfectly at his feet.
Messi paused, turned, skillfully sidestepped a defender, then suddenly accelerated.
Despite his small frame, Messi's speed was explosive. When he went full throttle, he moved like a supercar blazing down the pitch, easily bypassing three more defenders.
Once he rounded the goalkeeper and slotted the ball into the net, applause erupted from all around.
Dribbling past four players might not seem impressive against primary school kids, but Messi's performance was outstanding. His ability to shift pace while running at high speed felt entirely natural.
"He really is a genius, Ethan," Bruce admitted. Ethan's eye for talent had proven exceptional.
At least Messi and Curtis, both scouted by Ethan, had massive potential. Even Evra, who had fallen slightly out of favor, was a talent worth developing.
Ishmael walked back to the center circle, fuming, ready to restart. When he turned to look at his teammates, they all seemed to shrink under his gaze. Clearly, this kid was the schoolyard boss.
"Pass me the ball later."
Just one sentence, but every player on Cambridge Primary's side started passing the ball to Ishmael.
Despite his height and strength, just like Bruce had said, Ishmael was fast and agile. A few times, after receiving the ball, he nearly broke past Curtis, but Curtis mostly had to resort to fouls to stop him.
"Hey, London boy from Windsor. Do you only know how to foul?" Ishmael shouted angrily after being brought down by Curtis, jumping up like a bull ready to charge.
"If you're so good, don't let me foul you. Or just take the free kick," Curtis shot back, pointing at his own goal.
The referee ran over, gave Curtis a yellow card for repeated fouls, then signaled for Ishmael to take the free kick.
Ishmael's free kick, however, soared over the crossbar. Among kids this age, few had the patience to properly train for set pieces, so it wasn't surprising.
But Ishmael wasn't done. He positioned himself in front of Curtis again. This time, he used his body cleverly to block Curtis off. After receiving the ball, he used his left foot to nudge it aside and then darted past Curtis on the right like a slick loach.
Curtis had backup behind him, but his teammate was fooled by Ishmael's feint. After that, Ishmael bypassed the keeper and calmly slotted the ball into an empty net, equalizing the score.
As he carried the ball back to the center, he sneered at Curtis. When he passed Messi, his eyes clearly said, "Whatever you can do, I can do too."
Watching Ishmael's dribble and finish, combined with his tall frame and explosive agility, Ethan couldn't help but think of Zlatan Ibrahimovic.
This kid really did resemble Ibra.
(To be continued.)