Tomás had put in a dominant performance in the passing-and-running drill.
Most of the teammates who had doubted his ability to run the dealer role didn’t anymore, not after today.
“Tomás, I didn’t expect you to pull off so many clean passes with me right on you,” Tyler Reed said.
“Your passing might even be better than Marcus’s.”
“Tyler, Tomás’s passing is easily the best of all of us,” another teammate cut in.
“Marcus is a genius, sure, but when it comes to passing, Tomás has him beat!”
They had no idea how incredible Rashford actually was.
“Hahaha, I think so too, Tomás,” Sam Smith said.
“When we move up to the U18s, you have to keep passing to me. In that drill just now, I felt like England’s number one striker!”
“Sam, England’s top striker doesn’t score all his goals with his head!”
The group burst into laughter.
Surrounded by his teammates, the tension leaked out of Tomás’s shoulders.
He found himself smiling too.
Rashford watched from the edge of the huddle.
He had been worried that Tomás would fall apart under pressure, that he would struggle to get a pass out cleanly, let alone accurately.
Whenever the forwards used to shout and complain, Tomás would fold.
It wasn’t just the coaches who used to despair over him.
His teammates did too.
Seeing Tomás mobbed by the attackers, Rashford shook his head.
The change was so drastic he barely recognized him.
With passing like that, the kid had a real shot at turning pro.
At the very least, sticking around United’s academy until he was twenty as the team’s setup man would be a great outcome.
Paul McGuinness walked over.
“Good work, lads.”
The noisy group went quiet and turned to look at Tomás.
The focused attention made Tomás shift his weight.
The whole attacking group had performed well in that session, even Sam Smith, and Tomás was the reason why.
McGuinness smiled at Tomás.
Sir Alex’s eye for talent is as sharp as ever.
“Tomás, you did well out there,” McGuinness said.
“I raised the difficulty partway through, and you handled it fine. Passing under sustained pressure like that isn’t something we’d normally test at your stage. Do you know why I tested you on it anyway?”
The other kids stayed quiet, watching McGuinness.
Rashford looked puzzled too.
They were only academy graduates.
None of them had ever played an actual U18 match.
The matches they had played were amateur-level, with barely any real pressure.
Even U18 football, semi-professional as it was, didn’t usually call for passing tested under sustained, heavy pressure.
That was a U21 standard.
The U21s sat much closer to the professional English game.
Was Tomás’s passing already sitting near the standard of the professional game?
The other kids stared at Tomás.
Tomás could tell McGuinness’s satisfaction was real.
He wasn’t trying to rattle him.
Tomás shook his head.
He didn’t know why he had been tested against a U21 standard.
McGuinness smiled and patted Tomás on the shoulder.
Once, twice, three times.
He didn’t say another word.
He just turned and walked off.
Tomás and his friends stood there.
“What was Mr. McGuinness trying to say?” Sam asked.
“Forget it, Tomás. Let’s keep training,” Rashford said, grabbing Tomás’s arm.
“We’re crushing the U18s this afternoon!”
McGuinness patted me three times just now, didn’t he?
“Brother, if you can’t figure it out, don’t waste time thinking about it,” Rashford added.
“Let’s go!”
Even after moving away, McGuinness kept an eye on their group.
Out on the pitch, Tomás distributed the ball.
Rashford, Dwight McNeil, Sam Smith, Tosin—he fed all of them.
Left, center, right, right, left, center, center, right, left, forward, back, forward.
The rhythm was fast and clean.
The ball found each player almost the instant they called for it.
Tom Martin stood next to McGuinness, silent.
He hadn’t been optimistic about Tomás’s future, and he had believed Tomás wasn’t cut out for professional football. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
But he had to admit, Tomás’s passing when he wasn’t under heavy pressure was amazing.
It went beyond U16 standard.
Beyond U18, even.
A good pass wasn’t just about getting the ball to the target.
Weight and spin mattered.
Joe Palmer, and sixteen-year-old midfield prodigy Ethan Hamilton, could both deliver the ball accurately.
But making a teammate receive it comfortably, every single time, without needing to break stride or adjust their feet—they couldn’t manage that consistently.
Almost every time Tomás passed, his teammates received the ball dead comfortable, straight into their next move.
His passing was at least a tier above Palmer and Hamilton.
Martin rubbed his jaw.
He had been Tomás’s youth coach for years and had never seen this level.
To be fair, Tomás had never shown this level before.
“Tom, still think it’s a mistake for me to focus on him?” McGuinness asked.
Martin shook his head.
“Tomás reminds me of Pogba,” McGuinness said.
Martin’s eyes widened.
Pogba?
[Ding! Your head coach Tom Martin’s favorability toward you has increased by 30. Tom Martin’s current favorability toward you is now 60.]
Tomás, mid-pass, nearly stumbled.
Coach Tom, what are you doing?
He shook it off and kept passing.
Morning training wore on.
The sun climbed higher.
“Tomás, it’s getting late. You must be tired. Take a break,” Sam Smith called out.
[Ding!
Congratulations on completing Sam Smith’s mission, ‘I Am a Good Forward.’ Reward: [Defense] experience +20.]
“Brother, let’s take a break!” Rashford added.
[Ding!
Congratulations on completing Rashford’s mission, ‘Give Me Some Good Passes.’ Reward: [Lion Heart] trait experience +30, [Passing] experience +30.]
Tomás stopped passing.
His teammates gathered around him.
The electronic chimes pinged in his head.
After saying goodbye to the others, Rashford turned to Tomás.
“Want to go grab a big meal together?”
“Sure…” Tomás started, then remembered.
Paul McGuinness!
“Actually, I have something to take care of,” Tomás said.
“Alright, go ahead. Don’t worry about me.”
Tomás nodded and jogged toward McGuinness, who was heading for the main building.
Am I reading too much into this?
Tomás pushed down his nerves.
He caught up to the coach.
“Mr. McGuinness!”
McGuinness turned around.
“Yes, Tomás?”
“Mr. McGuinness, you patted me on the shoulder three times earlier. I thought that meant you wanted to see me privately about something?”
McGuinness stared at him.
Tomás’s face flushed.
You and your overthinking.
“Tomás, I’m a little hungry,” McGuinness said slowly.
“How about we hit the Manchester United canteen for lunch?”
Ding!
Manchester United U18 head coach Paul McGuinness has issued you the mission, ‘Let’s Have Lunch Together.’ Reward: [Endurance] experience +30, favorability +5.
Why is the reward for this one so high?
Wait.
The Manchester United canteen?
The first team’s canteen?
“Okay,” Tomás answered instantly.
The first-team canteen was slightly worn around the edges, but stepping inside felt like entering a holy site.
Is that David Moyes over there?
And Ed Woodward?
And the man talking to McGuinness…
Ryan Giggs.
Noticing Giggs looking their way, Tomás immediately dropped his gaze.
It was Ryan Giggs.
Tomás’s heart hammered against his ribs.
“Paul, who’s that shy young man?” Giggs asked.
“A genius Sir Alex had his eye on,” McGuinness replied.
Giggs wasn’t an outsider like Tom Martin.
They were all part of the Manchester United blood, Ferguson’s people.
There was no need to hide anything from him.
Out of respect for Moyes, Sir Alex had kept himself from interfering since stepping down.
But the ones who carried the United blood hadn’t gone anywhere.
They needed Ferguson’s support from the outside to ensure whoever came in as the next manager wouldn’t touch their core group.
When Ferguson showed interest, his people handled it.
Sir Alex probably had no idea how much his passing comment would be magnified.
“I see,” Giggs said.
His gaze toward Tomás softened.
“I keep feeling like he reminds me a bit of myself.”
“Ryan, he’s a central midfielder,” McGuinness said.
“Rashford is the one who’s like you. He’s more like Paul.”
Paul Scholes?
“What’s his name?” Giggs asked.
“Tomás.”
Giggs nodded.
“Got it.”
Just as Tomás shifted his weight from foot to foot, McGuinness returned holding two trays.
“I don’t know what you like to eat, Tomás. Which one do you want?”
Tomás didn’t care.
He was about to eat food from the Manchester United first-team canteen.
Ding!
A delicious steak, made with beef that has been visited by cockroaches.
Tomás stared at the plate.
Ding!
A delicious fried fish fillet, made from a dead fish that has been ravaged by a rat.
The holy ground shattered.
Had he wandered into a back-alley restaurant?
No, this was Carrington.
Tomás reached out and took the tray with the steak.
His hand shook slightly.
“Tomás, is it not to your liking?” McGuinness asked, already cutting into his fish fillet.
Tomás gripped his fork.
He took a small bite of the steak and swallowed quickly.
Ding!
Congratulations on completing McGuinness’s mission, ‘Let’s Have Lunch Together.’ Reward: [Endurance] experience +30, favorability +5.
Endurance?
This should be toxin resistance.
“Tomás, have you worked it out?” McGuinness asked, setting down his fork.
“Why I tested your passing under pressure using a semi-professional standard?”
Tomás shook his head.
“Tomás, you’re a hidden genius. You should have been promoted to the U18s a long time ago. But you’re already seventeen.”
In an instant, Tomás understood.
Because Marcus Rashford was only sixteen, he still qualified for the lower brackets.
The club could let him comfortably finish his season dominating the U16s before moving him up to the U18s in July.
He had a safety net.
Tomás didn’t have that luxury.
At seventeen, he had completely aged out of the U16s.
There could be no transition period for him because he simply wasn’t allowed to play at that level anymore.
He was being thrown straight into the U18 squad mid-season, forced to swim in the deep end immediately.
And with the impending jump to the U21s next year, the younger guys had a runway to prepare.
Tomás only had a cliff.
He had to perform right now.