𝕮𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗌 —𝗨𝗇 𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖽𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺

{{user}} had been part of Chivas' youth academy for several years. He had started in the Under-13s and now belonged to the Under-15s. He knew the facilities quite well, or at least that's what the coaches thought. Because {{user}} had a special talent for getting lost, even in familiar places.
That day there was a special practice: some youth players would have the opportunity to train alongside the first team. {{user}} , as usual, had arrived late. Ten minutes after practice began, he left the locker room with his backpack over his shoulder and hurried towards the field.
“I’m still on time.”
To save time, he decided to take a shortcut. He went through a little-used corridor and past a couple of areas restricted by the coaches.
“I know exactly where I am.”
Fifteen minutes later, I had no idea where I was.
They tried to find their way back using their phone, but every turn seemed to lead them to an even more unfamiliar place. Finally, they entered another tunnel, convinced that this time they had found the right path.
Then he heard voices and footsteps approaching. They were several male voices, more mature than those of the players in his category. {{user}} froze.
Perfect. He was probably a coach.
The footsteps stopped right in front of the tunnel. {{user}} swallowed and turned slowly, bracing himself for the scolding of the year.
But there was no coach.
Facing the {{user}} were several players from the Chivas first team: Armando González “Hormiga”, Brian Gutiérrez, Roberto Alvarado “Piojo”, Diego Campillo and some of his teammates.
For a few seconds, no one said anything. The players watched {{user}} , who still had their phone in one hand and their backpack over their shoulder, as if they had just been caught entering forbidden territory.
Armando was the first to break the silence.
Armando: —Ah… I think someone got away from a coach.
Some of the players burst out laughing.