My Goalkeeping TAS System

Jack arrived at City Blue Academy, a rush of nostalgia flooding him as he stood at the gates. The facility looked as it always had, but he knew—in just a few years, it would be remodeled and rebuilt. The new design would modernize everything, but for now, the academy felt like home.

With the confidence of a bodybuilder, he walked toward the entrance, shoulders back, head high.

He pushed through the doors and approached the receptionist, who was busy typing something into her computer.

"Hey, I’m here for the trials."

She barely glanced up from her screen. "Name?"

"Jack Rodriguez."

She scanned the list, and after a brief moment, nodded. "Alright, you’re on the list. Turn left, go straight, then take a right. The trial area will be up ahead."

Jack didn’t even need to hear the directions. He already knew the place like the back of his hand. He’d walked these halls before, been here countless times—his mind recalling every detail. The familiar scent of the gym, the hum of distant conversations, and the sound of shoes squeaking on polished floors were all part of the memory.

As he walked through the building, he noticed the other kids scattered around the area. There were about a hundred or so of them, all ranging in size and appearance. Some looked foreign, their accents thick, others were tall and athletic, and a few looked... out of place. Their awkwardness stood out in the crowd, but Jack didn’t even care.

He couldn’t be bothered with them.

Because today, he was going to be the one everyone remembered. Today, he would be the star.

Jack could feel the pressure building, but it was a different kind of pressure. It wasn’t the nervous tension he had once felt—it was excitement. This time, he had an advantage. The TAS System had already started to change how he saw football, how he thought about the game. He was more than ready.

As he passed by the others, he noticed a few of the kids were glancing at him. Some stared in curiosity, others with envy. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about his presence seemed to catch their attention.

Jack made his way to the trial area, where a few coaches were setting up cones and organizing drills.

One of the coaches looked up and raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded toward the pitch.

"You’re up next."

Jack didn’t respond—he didn’t need to. His legs moved on autopilot, his confidence unwavering. He walked onto the field with the determination of someone who knew this was his moment.

And as he stood there, waiting for the whistle to blow, Jack made a silent vow to himself. No one was going to forget him today.

Jack stood on the goal line, his posture calm but his presence predatory. His eyes locked onto the first opponent—a tall, lanky striker with dark skin and a massive afro.

Suddenly, a blue notification popped up in front of him.

[Quest: Save Every Shot Today]

Bonus: If you concede only one penalty, you will be rewarded.

⚠ Limited Number of Frame Forward / Frame Backward Uses: 100 ⚠

100 uses? Jack’s stomach twisted. Damn, so I can’t abuse it?

"Thanks, System... I hate you."

The tall striker stepped forward, placing the ball on the spot. Jack focused, trying to read his movement, but he was too slow—the shot soared toward the top-right corner, unstoppable.

Frame Backward.

Time rewound to the exact moment the striker struck the ball. This time, Jack was ready. He sprang into action, launching himself toward the top corner—and made a spectacular save!

Gasps rippled through the players watching.

"How the hell did he save that?" someone muttered.

Jack smirked, dusting off his gloves. One down.

The next shooter approached—a short, pale boy with ginger hair. Jack’s eyes narrowed. This guy isn’t a shooter. His body language is nervous, his balance off… his shot will be weak.

Jack decided to trust his instincts. No system. No rewinds.

The ginger-haired boy trembled, like a deer frozen in headlights. He took a deep breath, pulled back his leg—and completely skied the shot.

Jack didn’t even move. The ball sailed embarrassingly over the bar.

The boy went pale as laughter erupted in the background.

One by one, the other trialists stepped up. No matter where they aimed, Jack saved it.

Diving left, stretching right, even smothering close-range shots—he stopped them all.

By the time the final shooter stepped forward, Jack glanced at his counter.

[Frame Forward / Backward Uses Remaining: 42]

He had used 58 rewinds so far—more than he expected.

At a distance, Coach Ramirez watched with narrowed eyes, phone in hand.

A moment later, he tapped his screen and spoke.

"John, you might want to come see this. I think I just found the next Lev Yashin."