Xander didn't move for a few seconds after Ronaldo spoke.
"It's never too early to train."
Those words echoed in his head. Again and again. They weren't poetic. They weren't exaggerated. But they struck deeper than most advice he had ever received. They didn't come from a motivational speaker or a flashy Instagram post. They came from someone who had lived it. Someone who had climbed to the top of the football world and stayed there. Someone who had earned the right to say it.
And now that same man was in front of him. Stretching calmly like he had done this a thousand times before.
No, not like. He had done this a thousand times before.
Xander sat back down slowly, processing everything. Garnacho, beside him, hadn't moved either. His eyes were locked on Ronaldo, barely blinking. He looked like a kid seeing his hero for the first time. Which, honestly, wasn't far from the truth.
"Should we get changed too?" Xander asked. His voice was quiet, almost like speaking too loudly would break the moment.
Garnacho blinked hard, shaking himself out of his daze. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."
Both of them moved toward their lockers. It felt strange. Like walking through a dream. Like they were actors in a film they hadn't auditioned for. But everything was real.
Xander opened his locker and reached for the training kit inside. It was folded with care, placed deliberately as if someone had known today was important. As he picked it up, he noticed something. The fabric felt different. A little heavier. A little tighter. The crest was stitched in gold and red, not just pressed on. It felt more permanent. Like it belonged to something greater.
He glanced to his left.
Garnacho was already halfway changed. As he pulled the red shirt over his head, Xander caught sight of the number on his chest.
Forty-nine. Bold. Clean. Clear.
It was stitched in white just below the crest.
Xander looked at his own shirt.
There was nothing there.
No number. No name.
It didn't surprise him. Not really. He hadn't been officially registered with the first team yet. This was just training. A trial period. A proving ground.
Still, the empty chest on his shirt made him feel slightly out of place. Like he had entered a room full of names and stories but hadn't earned the right to be part of them just yet.
He didn't say anything. He simply changed, tied his laces tight, and stood. As Garnacho zipped up his jacket and threw his bag back into the locker, Xander did the same. Then they both walked toward the exit.
The hallway was quiet. The only sound was the soft squeak of their sneakers against the polished floor and the distant thuds of boots against turf.
They made their way to the indoor training facility. The air inside was cooler, drier. A mix of artificial grass and cold steel.
As the automatic doors opened, a wave of light hit them. The turf inside was bright under the ceiling lamps, almost too perfect. Not a single patch of green was uneven.
And at the far end, a single figure was moving.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
He was already deep into his warmup routine. Short sprints across the turf. Rapid stops. Controlled turns. Then shots on goal. Again and again. Left foot. Right foot. Off balance. On the run.
Every shot hit the net with force and accuracy.
There were no cameras around. No one was cheering. No spotlight. And yet, he trained like it was a Champions League final.
Xander slowed his steps.
His eyes followed every movement. From the way Ronaldo planted his foot, to the way his arms moved for balance, to the focus in his eyes. There were no wasted steps. No laziness. It was pure efficiency.
"He's really going all out," Garnacho whispered beside him.
Xander nodded slowly. He didn't take his eyes off Ronaldo. "Yeah."
He could see it now. See why players feared and admired him in equal measure. The discipline. The obsession. The drive.
This was the level.
Not talent. Not hype. Work. Relentless, painful, self-imposed work.
He felt the pressure rising in his chest again. But this time, it wasn't crushing. It was sharpening. Like a flame being directed toward a blade.
Then, suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
He turned. Garnacho turned too.
Standing there, wearing a bright grin and a white long-sleeved training top, was Bruno Fernandes.
"Well, look who it is," Bruno said.
Xander froze for a split second. Garnacho straightened his back.
"You guys the new boys?" Bruno asked, though his tone said he already knew the answer.
"Yeah," Garnacho replied first, his voice steadier than Xander expected. "Just promoted yesterday."
Bruno turned his attention to Xander. "And you?"
Xander nodded. "Same. First day."
Bruno laughed lightly and clapped his hands once. "Welcome, both of you. Big jump, huh?"
Xander allowed himself a small smile. "Yeah. Bit surreal."
"Good," Bruno said, his tone sincere. "Means you'll take it seriously. That's what we want. You'll be fine." He looked between the two of them. "If you ever need anything. Questions. Extra drills. Advice. Just ask. Don't wait for someone to give you permission."
"Thanks," Garnacho said quickly.
"Appreciate it," Xander added, surprised by how relaxed he felt now.
Bruno leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. "Also, don't let the old man over there scare you." He tilted his head toward Ronaldo. "He trains like this every morning."
Xander smiled. A real one.
Bruno winked. "See you out there." He turned and jogged onto the pitch, waving at someone else.
Even after he left, the warmth stayed.
Xander let out a slow breath. "That went better than I expected."
"Cool guy," Garnacho said.
"Yeah," Xander agreed. "Didn't expect that."
More sounds echoed through the dome. Footsteps. Laughter. Talking. The team was arriving.
One by one, the players came through the tunnel. Casemiro. Sancho. Malacia. Dalot. Eriksen. Martinez. Varane. In small groups. Stretching. Talking. Smiling.
The energy shifted. It became louder. Looser. But still focused.
Then, silence.
The last person walked in.
Erik ten Hag.
Immediately, the room straightened. Players turned without needing to be called. It was instinct. Habit. Respect.
The group formed into a semi-circle.
Ten Hag stood in front of them. Arms behind his back. Eyes calm and sharp.
He scanned the group slowly. His eyes landed on Garnacho. Then on Xander.
"I will not take too much time," he said, voice even. "You already know Garnacho. He has trained with us before."
A few players nodded. One of them muttered something that sounded like congratulations.
"He is now officially part of the squad. Make sure he feels part of the group."
Then he gestured toward Xander.
"This is eh.... Xander Hamrol. Winger. Just promoted from the eh... under eighteens."
Xander stood a little straighter. Even though his heart was pounding and he could feel eyes on him.
"Give him the same treatment," Ten Hag said. "He has earned this. That is all."
There were a few soft claps. A nod from Garnacho. A smile from Bruno.
Then someone whistled.
"Alright, let's make it official!" a voice shouted.
The team began moving.
Two lines formed quickly. Shoulder to shoulder. Facing each other with a narrow space in between. At first, Xander didn't understand what was happening.
Then Garnacho turned and pulled him gently.
"Come on," he said with a grin. "It's the initiation. Just run through it."
Xander looked up. The two lines had formed a tunnel. A gauntlet. At the very end of it stood Ronaldo, arms crossed, waiting.
His pulse quickened.
"You first," someone said.
Garnacho stepped forward without hesitation. He jogged into the tunnel.
Hands flew. Slaps on the back. Playful hits on his arms. A shout in Spanish. A laugh from the left side. And a booming voice from the right.
"Vamos, Garnacho!"
He made it through. Hair messy. Smile wide.
Then it was Xander's turn.
He took a breath and stepped forward. Someone behind him yelled, "Not a walk. A run!"
So he jogged.
Hands hit his back. Shoulders. Arms. Voices surrounded him.
"Go on, lad!"
"Don't flinch!"
"Big leagues now!"
He kept his head forward. Focused. When he emerged on the other side, he was breathless.
But people were clapping. Laughing. A hand ruffled his hair. Someone else gave him a light shove on the back.
For a moment, he stood there.
In the middle of them.
Smiling.
Not because it was over. But because it meant something.
He had made it through.
Ten Hag's voice rose again.
"That's eh... enough fun. Training officially begins now."
The tone changed.
Players jogged into formation. Coaches started placing cones. The staff moved quickly, setting up drills and distributing water bottles.
Everyone had a task. Everyone had a role.
Xander stood still for a second longer. Right where the tunnel ended.
And then, he smiled again.
Because he was no longer watching from the side.
He was in it.