After a stunning 5-1 victory over Gillingham, the English media was abuzz with talk of Bradford City's resurgence.

  The Guardian:“Bradford Show Off Dazzling Tiki-Taka – Reinhart Brings Guardio’s DNA to English Football!” The article praised Reinhart's tactical shift, particurly Eden Mirza’s role as a tempo controller and Lucien’s performance as a false nine. However, at the end of the paragraph, there was a small note:“One question remains: What’s going on with Matias? The striker continues his goal-less story.”

  Sky Sports:"Gillingham Torn Apart – But This Was More About a Tactical Loss by Their Coach."A video clip showed moments where Bradford had 78% possession in the second half. Gillingham’s coach, Mark Thornley, looked frustrated in the press conference:"I admit, I was thoroughly beaten today. Reinhart changed everything in the second half, and I had no answers. My team looked like amateurs compared to their py."

  BBC Sport (Fans Column):"Bradford Could Be Champions – But Without Matias?"One fan wrote: “We’ve got the genius Lucien, the calm Eden, the lightning-fast Harry, and the promising Duvant. But Matias? He’s like a sports car with no fuel.”

  Meanwhile, social media was flooded with fan comments:@TrueBradfordFan: “Our tiki-taka is perfect! But Matias… is he really still striker material? 11 team goals this pre-season, 0 contribution from him!”@Bradfordoneandonly: “Reinhart changed everything—except one thing: Matias remains the weak link. If this continues, we should sell him next season.”

  However, a respected account called @GeniusTactic, known for their detailed match analysis, shared a comprehensive breakdown of the game on their blog, highlighting Bradford’s strengths but also pointing out a few tactical weaknesses. Their input was the only one Reinhart actually read.

  Matias, after the match, joined in the celebration of his team’s brilliant performance. But despite the smiles, a sense of inferiority gnawed at him.He scrolled through the comments on his social media.His fingers clenched the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. Every word felt like a dagger to his pride.He couldn’t respond—because his performance really had been that bad.

  The next day, Bradford’s training ground turned into a stage of suffering for Matias. The shadow of online criticism combined with his poor form haunted his every move.“Come on, Matias! Focus! You can do this!” McNeil yelled.But a pass from Lucien ended with Matias firing the ball high above the crossbar. Disappointed sighs were heard. Even backup keeper Ryan Elmer shook his head.“Rex, man. It’s just training.” The team captain patted him on the shoulder after seeing Matias looking down.But those words did nothing. Matias grew even more anxious. In the finishing drill, three of his shots were easily saved by Ryan.Reinhart watched from the sidelines, arms folded, face unreadable.McNeil approached quietly.Malcom spoke, noticing Matias’ colpse, “Boss, we need to step in. This is getting out of hand.”But Reinhart’s voice was firm: “No.”“But—”Before Malcom could finish, Reinhart cut him off, “If he’s a great pyer, he’ll rise on his own. If not, then he’s not what we need.”

  Matias overheard some of that. His chest felt tight.Cassandra noticed and stayed silent.

  At the next training, things only got worse. In a crossing drill, he missed three straight balls from Koji Yamane..

  Reinhart observed from the sidelines. His gaze was sharp like a hawk eyeing its prey. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t disappointed—just watching. And that was what made it even worse for Matias.

  That night, Matias rewatched clips from st season—when he was still at Barrow. Not a single goal all season.“What’s changed?” he whispered.

  Suddenly, his phone buzzed. A message from Conrad:“Wanna grab food? I know a good spot.”Matias almost declined—but Conrad was already knocking at his door.“Come on. Don’t be a drama queen.” Outside the door, Conrad waited with Harry and Eden.

  At Conrad’s home, a woman—his wife—appeared with a boy around 11 named Joshua.Joshua seemed shy around Matias.Then they all sat down for dinner. Conrad spoke first.

  “Listen, I used to be like you. My first season with the first team after graduating from the academy? Total failure. Fans called me ‘trash defender’.”

  Matias looked at him. “And then?”“I got mad. Trained until I puked. The next season, I became the backbone of the team.” Conrad smiled.

  Matias exhaled. Then softly asked, “Am I no longer worthy of being a starter? The coach hasn’t said anything. Maybe he’s given up on me?”

  “You’re wrong. That’s exactly how he supports you. He’s giving you the chance to prove yourself.” Conrad tried to comfort him as the most senior pyer.

  Matias stayed silent.Finally, Conrad said, “Training at 5 AM tomorrow. I’ll join you. Only if you’re ready to rise. Harry’s training with me like always.”

  Matias paused for a long time.Then, finally said, “5 AM.”

  The next morning, before sunrise, three figures ran ps around the field.Conrad fed him tough passes. Matias kicked, again and again, until his legs ached.

  From the office window, Reinhart observed. McNeil stood beside him.After watching the trio, McNeil finally asked, “You really won’t step in?”Reinhart smiled slightly. “I already did. By doing nothing.”

  On the field, Matias’s shout echoed through the cold air.

  The Call to Reinhart’s OfficeA day before the pre-season match against Bolton Wanderers—a team tipped for promotion—Matias received a message from McNeil:“Coach wants to see you. His office. Now.”

  His heart pounded. Was this the end? Would he be told he wasn’t needed anymore?

  He knocked.“Come in.”The voice was ft, emotionless.

  Matias entered. Reinhart sat behind his desk, tactical documents spread out. He didn’t speak—just stared, making the air feel heavy.

  “You know why you’re here?”Matias swallowed. “I… haven’t been performing.”“That’s not an answer. That’s a fact.”He stood up, walked slowly to the window, looking out at the training ground below.

  “I signed you because I saw something in you—a strength you might not even be aware of. But now? You’re pying scared.”

  Matias clenched his fists. “I’m trying, Coach. But—”“No ‘buts’. Tomorrow, we face Bolton Wanderers. I’ll give you a chance—one chance—to show you still have fire in you.”

  Matias was surprised. “I’ll be starting?”“No.”

  Reinhart turned around, eyes sharp like a freshly unsheathed sword.“You’ll come on in the 60th minute. And if you fail again, there won’t be a third chance.”

  Silence.

  “Go now. Training is over. But tomorrow... show me you deserve to wear this shirt.”

  Matias couldn’t sleep. He repyed Reinhart’s words over and over.“One chance.”

  He got up, grabbed his ball, and snuck into the training ground.Under the dim floodlights, he trained.Shot. Miss.Shot again. Miss.Again. And again.

  Until his fists clenched. Until sweat soaked through his clothes.“I can’t fail.”

  Tomorrow, against Bolton Wanderers, wasn’t just a pre-season game.It was his final battle.