As Yn began her warm-up drills, her mind raced with a mixture of determination and frustration. She focused on her breathing, grounding herself in the rhythm of her footfalls. This was her therapy—the pitch. Every inch of turf felt like home to her, and each touch of the ball brought a flicker of peace in the midst of her rising anxiety about her career. She was at Manchester City, the place she’d dreamed of playing as a kid, and now she was here. But the reality was that it didn’t look or feel like she had imagined.
During practice, she noticed the manager, Coach Graham, watching from the sidelines, clipboard in hand, his expression blank. She pushed herself harder, sprinting, crossing, shooting with precision. There was no way he could overlook this; she’d make it impossible. Her every move on the ball had intent, every pass delivered with purpose. She knew that her form spoke volumes, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Coach Graham had already decided not to listen.
For the next drill, Yn lined up with her teammates for a series of mini-matches. The coaches split them into groups, and she was placed with some of the younger, less experienced players. It didn’t escape her notice that several of the regular starters were on another team, the one Coach Graham seemed to be paying more attention to. Yn gritted her teeth and mentally prepared herself, telling herself to ignore it and stay focused.
The match started, and Yn was immediately in her element. She darted past defenders, her footwork leaving them scrambling. With every tackle, every feint, she felt her confidence soaring. Her team scored twice within minutes, both goals set up by her crosses into the box. Her speed, her instinctive playmaking—they were there, raw and powerful, undeniable. But as her team celebrated, she noticed Coach Graham looking away, his focus still on the other side of the pitch.
“Don’t let it get to you,” she whispered to herself, brushing her hair back and getting ready to reset. She had to keep her head down and keep performing. But it was hard. Harder than she’d ever expected.
After the drills, training wrapped up, and Yn headed for the locker room. Just as she was about to head inside, she heard someone call her name. She turned to see her older sister, Lauren, leaning casually against the wall with her familiar warm smile.
“How’s it going, superstar?” Lauren asked, clapping Yn on the shoulder.
Yn forced a smile. “It’s…going,” she replied, her voice tight with a hint of frustration she couldn’t hide.
Lauren raised an eyebrow, instantly picking up on her sister’s mood. “Still giving you a hard time?” she asked, her tone softening.
Yn nodded, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t get it, Lauren. I’m doing everything he’s asked—more, even. And it’s like he’s purposely looking the other way. I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”
Lauren sighed, pulling her sister into a hug. “Hey, listen, you’re not doing anything wrong. I see how hard you work. Everyone does. Sometimes it’s just…politics. You’re young, new to the club. Doesn’t mean you’re not good enough.”
Yn pulled back, her frustration bubbling up. “But I’m more than good enough! I’m tired of being overlooked, of being pushed to the side while everyone else gets their chance. I just don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this.”
Lauren’s face softened with understanding. “I know it feels like that now, but keep pushing. This isn’t the end. You’ve got that fire, Yn. The kind you don’t see in every player. You just need to be patient.”
Yn wanted to believe that. She wanted to take comfort in Lauren’s words, but patience had never been her strong suit, especially when she felt trapped by her own manager’s stubbornness. The locker room buzzed with post-practice chatter, but Yn sat silently, absorbing Lauren’s words and willing herself to stay focused.
Later that night, Yn sat alone in her apartment, scrolling through social media, where her teammates’ names and faces filled her feed. She felt a twinge of resentment every time she saw another congratulatory post, another story about their performances and potential call-ups to the national team. And then there was Lauren, consistently tagged in posts with the Lionesses, hailed as a role model, an England regular.
Yn had always been proud of her sister, but now she couldn’t help feeling the shadow it cast over her own career. She knew she was good enough to stand on her own, yet it felt like everyone was holding her back from proving it.
The next day, Yn walked into training determined to push her limits even further, fueled by her frustration. As they moved into scrimmage matches, she was paired again with players she didn’t usually train with, a clear message from the coach about her current place in his lineup. Yn squared her shoulders and focused on the game, but inside, she was screaming.
The ball came her way, and she felt her instincts take over, her muscles coiling as she charged down the field. She outpaced her marker, cut inside, and fired a shot toward the bottom corner. The ball soared past the keeper, rippling the net with a satisfying thud.
Her teammates cheered, and for a brief moment, Yn’s spirits lifted. She glanced over at Coach Graham, hoping to catch some glimmer of acknowledgment. But he was busy talking to one of the starting players, barely glancing in her direction. Yn’s stomach twisted, and she forced herself to refocus, hiding her frustration behind a mask of determination.
After training, Yn found herself walking off the field, shoulders slumped. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see one of her closest friends on the team, Jess, catching up to her.
“You alright, Yn?” Jess asked, concern flickering in her eyes. “You’ve been looking pretty down lately.”
Yn gave a half-smile, grateful for the kindness. “Yeah, it’s just…you know, the usual. Working hard, but feels like I’m invisible.”
Jess nodded knowingly. “Trust me, we all see it. We know you’re killing it out there. Don’t let him break you. This’ll pass.”
Yn managed a genuine smile, comforted by Jess’s words. “Thanks, Jess. I needed that.”
As she walked away, Yn felt a surge of resolve. She wouldn’t let her manager’s indifference define her. She was a fighter, just like Lauren said. One way or another, she’d prove herself—she’d make it so undeniable that even Coach Graham couldn’t look away. And when that call from England finally came, she’d know she’d earned it.
