Zachary felt at ease as he steered his R8 GT through the streets of Trondheim towards Lerkendal Stadion the following afternoon. He was on his way from his apartment in Stjørdalsveien to partake in the pre-match conditioning routine for the game between Rosenborg and Molde scheduled for later that evening.
A faint smile outlined his face, softening his features as he savored the feeling of the fresh breeze circulating through the car from the outside. It blew against his face, bringing with it the freshness of late autumn. He felt like he was living in a dream.
Nice car, steady income, and professional football in Europe—he already had it all despite being only eighteen. He was in a good mood that day—a sentiment compounded by finally being able to start another home game in Rosenborg's colors.
Everything about him projected a relaxed air. His head swayed in sync to the beat of the Gym Class Heroes' hit song—the fighter, playing on the five-speaker stereo system of his R8 GT. He looked more like a tourist on a countryside vacation rather than a player heading for one of his team's toughest fixtures of the season. He was a player completely unburdened from pre-match pressure due to the confidence born of his skill and growing experience at the professional stage in Europe.
Zachary cast a glance at the digital clock on the dashboard of his car and noticed it was already 2:57 PM. Only a little over three hours were remaining to the kick-off of the game. So, he stepped on the accelerator and dashed through the streets to Lerkendal, only making sure to maintain a velocity slightly below the speed limit. After a few minutes, he slowed down again as he joined the lane leading straight to the gates of Lerkendal Stadion.
He was surprised to find that the passionate fans had already started flooding towards the stadium in droves. The majority of them were in Rosenborg's traditional white and black colors. They sang and chanted as they slowly made their way towards the gate under the guidance of security personnel. The excitement that preceded the game between Molde and Rosenborg was at levels Zachary had never experienced during Rosenborg's prior fixtures.
One of the security guys soon noticed his vehicle and waved him over, perhaps intending to guide him into a lane reserved for players. But that was a mistake on the security guy's part. The special treatment made the fans aware that the car of a Rosenborg player was passing by.
The passionate crowd wasted no time swarming around his vehicle. They even tried to peer through the tinted windows to see who was inside the R8 GT. What followed was the sort of chaos no one had expected before the stadium's gate as the supporters struggled to inch closer to the vehicle.
The stadium security personnel tried their best to clear the way for Zachary—but the fans were already agitated and didn't relent in the slightest. Since they were within arm's reach distance of one of their stars, they all hoped to get an autograph, at the very least, before they could free the vehicle.
Zachary liked their enthusiasm and didn't want to disappoint them. He could see that they were the most dedicated and hard-core of fans—the kind that would cheer Rosenborg to victory during the toughest fixtures. But after stealing a glance at the digital clock on the car's dashboard and noticing that it was already 3:15 PM, he resisted the urge to move out and greet them.
He needed to get to the pitch a.s.a.p. and start his pre-match conditioning with the rest of his teammates. So, he sat quietly in his vehicle with all the doors locked and waited for the police and stadium security personnel to clear away the fans.
He didn't have to wait long, though. In about five minutes, they cleared a narrow path for him through the sea of fans, all the way to the stadium's gate.
Zachary didn't waste any time. He immediately stepped on the accelerator and guided the vehicle to the gates of Lerkendal at moderate speed. Under the guidance of the security personnel, he managed to arrive at the parking lot reserved for players in only a minute.
He let out a breath of pent-up air at managing to make it to the stadium before 3:30 PM—the scheduled time for the start of the pre-match conditioning session.
But just after alighting from his vehicle, one of the security guys, who'd first noticed his car before the gates, approached him. He was a huge guy and seemed more like a wrestler rather than the usual security officer.
"Hello, Zachary," he greeted, smiling.
"Hello," Zachary replied, nodding at him.
"You really made our job quite difficult out there," the security guy said, his tone formal. "The lane you just used to enter the stadium is specifically for the fans on match days. So, you being there is not a wise decision right before a match. The fans could have gone out of control and possibly injured you during the resulting chaos."
"Oh," Zachary said, his eyes widening. "Sorry about that. I didn't know that players weren't supposed to use that lane. I've been using it to enter the stadium daily."
"I understand," the security guy said, smiling. "But if you arrive a few hours to the start of the match like today next time, use the other gate below. That would make our work easier."
"Okay, I'll do that," Zachary replied, nodding. "Thank you for reminding me. But now, I've got to get to the pitch as soon as possible. Otherwise, the coach will roast me alive." He added before turning around and starting to pick his gym bag from the passenger seat.
"One more thing," the security guy said after a few moments.
"Yes," Zachary replied, turning around to face him once again. "Is there anything else?"
The big fellow first looked left and right, then front and back, before leaning forward—towards Zachary. "Is there a possibility that you can take a selfie with me?" He whispered, his tone imploring. "It'll make my young son happy since he's a huge fan of yours. He's already in the stands, eager to watch your match today."
"Oh," Zachary said, first stealing a glance at his watch. "Okay. But please hurry. I'm about to run late for the pre-match dynamic session."
"Thank you," the security guy said excitedly. He hurriedly fished out his phone, inched closer to Zachary, and then snapped a selfie with him in a matter of seconds. He then took a look around their surroundings before mouthing another thank you to Zachary and stepping away. It seemed he didn't want his colleagues to notice his actions.
Since Zachary was in a hurry, he put the security guy's antics at the back of his mind. He threw his gym bag over a shoulder and walked further into the stadium with all the haste he could muster.
A few moments later, he arrived in the locker room and quickly changed into the all-black warming-up outfit for the day. Without wasting any time, he joined his teammates on the pitch for a light exercise session.
He spent the next hour going through a dynamic routine of leg lifting, jogging, and stretching with the other Rosenborg players that had managed to make Coach Johansen's squad.
He went through all the exercises with the highest concentration he could muster since he wanted to warm up his muscles adequately. He didn't want to perform below his best or, worse, get injured just because he hadn't focused during the pre-match dynamic session.
About an hour later, at around 4:30 PM, the Molde players, too, arrived on the pitch in their light blue training kits. Zachary observed them for a while as he continued going through his stretching routine. They were an intimidating bunch and exuded the confidence characteristic of the reigning Tippeligaen champions.
Of course, the passionate home fans were not impressed and started booing them right away. However, the traveling Molde fans also rose to the occasion and began pitting their cheering against the booing. Together, the two groups formed a chaotic, noisy harmony that caused the entire stadium to vibrate like it was experiencing an earthquake.
Zachary was at a loss for words after feeling the energy exuded by the supporters. But he didn't let all the cheering distract him. He remained focused, going through the dynamic warm-up until Rolf Aas, the fitness coach, called for a halt to the session.
By then, the gigantic clock on the stadium's big screen was already pointing to 5:05 PM, indicating that only fifty-five minutes were remaining to kick-off. Zachary trailed after his teammates as they left the pitch to prepare for the start of the game. But just as he was about to enter the tunnel, he noticed Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, the coach of Molde, standing on the sidelines and supervising the warm-up session of his players.
Zachary felt a stroke of excitement ignite within him as he was about to face a coach that would come to manage one of the best clubs in the world in only a few years. He couldn't help but wonder how his skills would fare against the defensive tactics developed by such a manager.
Nonetheless, he didn't halt his trek out of the pitch for the meager purpose of taking a look at the future Manchester United manager. Instead, he forced himself to calm down and continued towards the tunnel to prepare for kick-off.
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