The sun had risen high by the time the coaches finished reorganizing the field.
The cones and obstacle courses were cleared away, replaced by small goals at each end of a condensed pitch.
It was time for the final — and most important — phase of the trials:
The match simulation.
Each boy would now have the chance to show how he performed in actual gameplay —how he moved under pressure, how he passed, defended, created opportunities, and seized chances.
Seven versus seven.
No more drills.
Only football.
As the boys warmed up on the field, a ripple of tension spread among the instructors.
A tall, broad-shouldered man approached from the sideline, hands tucked behind his back.
His sharp gray eyes scanned the players with quiet intensity.
Coach Klaus Dietrich.
Head of Bayern Munich's U17 team — and one of the most pragmatic, demanding men in the club's youth system.
A veteran of German football philosophy:Cold.Precise.Unforgiving.
A gatekeeper of dreams.
Where others might see raw potential, Dietrich only saw one thing:
Can this boy win for Bayern?
Nothing else mattered.
Coach Dietrich walked up to the small group of instructors supervising the trials.
"Report," he said curtly.
No greetings.No pleasantries.
Just business.
One of the lead instructors, a grizzled man with a clipboard, stepped forward.
"Three players have clearly separated themselves from the rest," he said, flipping through his notes.
"Several others show good potential, but these three are notable."
Dietrich's cold gaze sharpened.
"Details," he ordered.
First Candidate:
"Nils Becker. Defender. German. 15 years old."
The instructor showed a picture on the tablet — a tall, imposing figure.
"Excellent physique — already 1.82 meters tall. Strong build but with surprising agility for his size. Intelligent reading of the game. Wins most aerial duels. Composed under pressure."
"Type?" Dietrich asked.
"Classic German center-back. Good fundamentals, aggressive when needed. Could develop into an elite stopper if nurtured properly."
Dietrich gave a small nod.
Exactly the kind of raw material Bayern liked to shape.
Second Candidate:
"Leonhard Schmitt. Left winger. 15 years old."
"Exceptional acceleration and change of pace. Fantastic short-passing vision. Quick feet, smart positioning, excellent one-twos. Struggles a bit with physical duels but compensates with anticipation and creativity."
Dietrich narrowed his eyes slightly.
Germany was always hungry for high-level creators on the wings — players who could break disciplined defenses.
Third Candidate:
The instructor hesitated a second longer before speaking.
"Mateo González Schwarz. 15 years old."
Dietrich frowned slightly at the unfamiliar name.
"Physical condition comparable to our U19 prospects," the instructor explained.
"Superior endurance, speed, and strength compared to his age group. Outperformed every participant in physical drills."
"Technically?" Dietrich asked, voice sharp.
"Average control. Average passing. But..."The instructor's mouth twisted into a rare, curious smile.
"Exceptional dribbling. Exceptional change of pace. Natural body feints. Reminiscent of... Messi, in terms of how he manipulates tight spaces."
Dietrich raised an eyebrow — the first real sign of emotion crossing his face.
"Messi?"
"Only glimpses," the instructor admitted. "But unmistakable. It's instinctive, not trained."
Dietrich leaned closer to look at Mateo's profile on the tablet.
Name, birth date, height, weight, nationality.
But then his sharp gaze caught something that made him pause.
Football History: None.
No club academies.No affiliated programs.No previous specialized football training.
Only independent conditioning — private effort.
Self-taught.
Dietrich frowned deeply.
That was both intriguing and suspicious.
"Why hasn't he been trained formally?" he muttered. "Family issues? Late start? Hidden problems?"
He didn't like uncertainties.
But he knew one thing:
Natural talent without polish was dangerous.
It could either blossom into greatness —or collapse under pressure.
He closed the tablet with a sharp snap.
"I'll judge him myself," he said coldly.
"Let's see if the boy truly belongs."
Dietrich crossed his arms and turned his full, heavy gaze toward the field where the boys were lining up for the first 7v7 match.
Mateo, oblivious to the scrutiny, bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, ready.
The real battle was about to begin.
And someone was watching.