Several months later, with John firmly established in the main youth squad, everything began to move faster than ever. Within a week, the team was invited to participate in a major tournament, where the best academy teams from across the country would gather.
This was another chance for John to prove that he wasn't here by accident.
In the days leading up to the tournament, the coaches warned them:
— "These matches will be brutal, boys. Here, mistakes are not forgiven."
John listened, but inside, his heart brimmed with confidence. He had already proved he could withstand pressure. He was ready.
In the first match, the team faced the "Valmond Academy" — a famous club known for their devastating attack. John started strong, making a few excellent saves in the first half.
But the second half was a different story.
One of Valmond's strikers, a clearly faster and more experienced player, began relentlessly pressing John. In the 67th minute, during a sudden break, the striker faked a shot, sending John diving the wrong way — and easily scored.
John fell to the grass, staring blankly as the ball rippled the net.
He heard the cheers from the opposing bench and felt the energy drain from his own teammates.
But the worst was yet to come.
Only seven minutes later, John made another mistake — stepping too far forward, leaving the goal wide open.
A second goal slid past him.
When the final whistle blew, they had lost 2-0.
John walked toward the locker room with his head down, feeling the heavy silence settle over the team.
Inside, there was a storm raging within him.
— "Why did I freeze? Why did I fail?" — he kept asking himself.
When the coach finally spoke, his voice was firm but not cruel.
— "You did well, John. But never forget — strength isn't just about saving goals. True strength is about standing back up after you fall."
John didn't reply. He just nodded slightly.
That night, he couldn't sleep.
Over and over, he replayed the two goals in his mind, searching for every tiny mistake.
Several times he reached into his bag, pulled out the small stone from Sornare, and gripped it tightly.
But the comfort was distant.
Finally, he opened his old notebook and wrote:
> "My first big mistake.
My first big pain.
If I can survive this, I will become unbreakable."
The next morning, while the rest of the boys were still sleeping, John was already on the training ground.
He ran drills by himself, practiced reaction saves, and pushed his body until it screamed for rest.
Each dive, each sprint, was a silent promise: Never again.
Days turned into weeks.
The coaches watched him carefully.
They saw how John never blamed others, never made excuses, never hid from his failures.
One afternoon, after a grueling session, the head coach pulled him aside.
— "John," he said, "confidence doesn't come from winning all the time. Real confidence is built by getting back up after you've been beaten.
Keep pushing. You're on the right path."
For the first time in weeks, John allowed himself a small, real smile.
Something inside him had changed — a new kind of strength had been born, not from victory but from pain.
And when another match came — a critical one — John was ready.
Late in the game, with the score tied, the opponents launched a brutal attack.
A powerful shot flew toward the corner of the net — and John, sharp and fearless, leapt across the goal and deflected it away.
The crowd erupted.
His teammates rushed over to congratulate him.
For the first time, even the older players slapped him on the back with real respect.
That night, under the quiet stadium lights, John sat alone on the grass with his notebook.
He wrote:
> "Every pain brings new strength.
Every failure shakes your soul, but if you stand firm, your soul will become steel.
I passed through the fire.
I am still standing.
And I will keep standing — until the world knows John Vermog."
As the night wind whispered around him, John closed his eyes.
He could almost hear the distant winds of Sornare, carrying with them the voice of his father, the spirit of the old village field.
He understood now — no matter how far he traveled, no matter how high he climbed, his real strength would always come from within.
And he swore to himself:
Next time the pressure rose, next time the world doubted him — he would not flinch.
He would not fall.
He would fight.
Because this was still just the beginning.