Gerrard was still replaying that first volleyed pass in his head.
Ethan had already hit his second.
Again he flicked the ball up.
Again he struck it on the move.
But this time he didn’t use the inside of his right boot.
He used the outside.
Even on a short pass, the curve was unmistakable.
The ball bent through the air, fully struck, no safety on it.
The outside of the foot gives you a smaller contact patch and a less stable surface.
Accuracy drops hard.
Ethan had just made the harder choice on purpose.
Clang.
The curving ball smashed into the crossbar again, dead center.
Gerrard was done doubting.
A genius.
An absolute passing genius.
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he’d never have believed a kid this young could have that kind of gift.
And yet this kid wasn’t in Tottenham’s first team?
“Last one, I want to try something harder.
Might miss.
Don’t laugh.”
Gerrard’s stomach tightened.
Harder?
Those first two passes weren’t already maxed out?
Before he could react, Ethan flicked the ball up and drove it with the inside of his right foot.
It looked like the first pass.
What happened next shut Gerrard’s brain off.
Clang.
The ball hit the crossbar again.
But this time it carried no spin at all.
It bounced straight back toward Ethan.
He killed it on his chest, popped it once with his right foot, and struck again.
Clang.
Crossbar.
Again.
Two hits off the rebound without letting the ball settle.
And the second rebound came right back to him.
Ethan trapped it clean and stopped.
But the flight was so true, the weight so perfect, that a third hit, a fourth, more, all looked automatic.
The first passes had shown his precision.
This was something else.
Precision, angle, and power, all controlled at once.
Art.
It was like the ball had a guidance system inside it.
Like he could send it anywhere he wanted, whenever he wanted.
Gerrard stared at him, searching for words and finding none.
Then the awe faded, and something heavier settled in.
A talent like this, and Liverpool couldn’t have him.
He actually felt jealous of Tottenham.
Their academy had already produced Harry Kane up front.
Now, barely a year or two later, they had this passer in midfield.
Was Kane right?
Was this really the start of Tottenham’s rise in the Premier League?
Attackers and midfielders coming through like this, a trophy really might not be far off.
The more Gerrard thought about it, the worse he felt.
Why had he wandered over to Tottenham’s training ground today?
He’d come to drink away his mood, and now his chest felt tighter than before.
“Ethan Cross!
You little bastard, still hanging around?!”
“You’ve got some nerve putting your hands on me!
I’ll make you pay!”
Bill Vance stormed onto the pitch, face swollen like a balloon.
Then he saw Gerrard standing next to Ethan and froze.
“Steven Gerrard?
What are you doing here?”
“Just visiting Kane.
Passing through.”
Gerrard knew nothing about the bad blood between Vance and Ethan.
He was completely lost.
“Gerrard!
Stay away from that Chinese kid!”
“His name’s Ethan Cross and he’s violent.
Absolutely violent!”
“All because I didn’t put him on the first-team training list!
Look what he did to my face!”
Gerrard turned to Ethan, stunned.
But he wasn’t focused on the first two sentences.
The first-team training list.
A passer like this wasn’t in Tottenham’s first team, and that alone was already a massive failure.
And Vance had only offered him a spot as a training player?
That wasn’t just a waste.
That was criminal.
Gerrard suddenly thought Vance’s face could have been hit a lot harder.
If this had happened at Liverpool’s academy, he’d have swung on the man himself.
Vance watched Gerrard’s expression shift and mistook it for agreement.
“Oh, I see.
Ethan, you thought you’d find another way into the first team?
Let me be clear.
Not a chance.”
Gerrard wasn’t a Tottenham player.
But after nearly twenty years in the Premier League, as a legend for both Liverpool and England, his reputation and connections stretched far beyond Merseyside.
Tottenham’s training ground was nearly closed to outsiders.
Random people didn’t just walk in.
But Gerrard came and went as he pleased.
That alone said everything about his standing in the game.
Vance figured Ethan had bumped into Gerrard and tried to latch onto him for a way into the first team.
“Ethan!
Let me say this one more time!”
“Stop dreaming about staying in Tottenham’s academy!”
“No.
Stop dreaming about staying at Tottenham, period!”
“As academy director, I have the authority to release you.
It’s in your academy contract.
I can terminate it unilaterally, effective immediately.”
Gerrard stared at him like he’d misheard.
“Release him?
You’re saying Tottenham is releasing Ethan Cross?”
Vance nodded, smug.
“I had the termination notice drafted already.
One phone call.”
“It’s probably done by now.”
Gerrard fought to keep his face straight.
The joy was climbing up his throat, and his mouth kept twitching.
“So…
right now, Ethan Cross is no longer a Tottenham player?”
Vance looked even more pleased with himself.
“Of course.
Like I said, one word from me.
Dealing with a kid like this is…
wait.
Gerrard, why are you smiling?”
Gerrard couldn’t hold it anymore.
“No, nothing.
You did the right thing.”
“I just…
remembered something happy.”