Chapter 246: Distraction

Chapter 246: Distraction

December 27th was always the ugliest day on the football calendar.

If Boxing Day was about pushing through the post-Christmas slump, the day after was just about survival.

The match adrenaline had worn off leaving the squad with heavy legs, sore muscles, and the reminder that another game was right around the corner.

Niels sat in his drafty office at the training ground before the sun even came up. A half-finished coffee sat ignored on his desk.

On his laptop, the last twenty minutes of yesterday’s game against Tranmere Rovers played on a loop.

He tapped the left arrow key, rewinding the same sequence for the fourth time.

On paper, everything looked fine. They went to Prenton Park, kept a clean sheet, and walked away with a 1-0 win.

They got the three points he wanted, their spot in the table looked good and their momentum was intact.

But watching the footage this morning, Niels wasn’t completely satisfied.

For the first seventy minutes, Crawley was incredibly disciplined. They moved the ball smartly, held their shape, and didn’t play into Tranmere’s hands.

But once they scored and Tranmere started pushing forward, they lost that control.

Niels watched a midfielder take a heavy touch in the 82nd minute, drawing a completely unnecessary tackle.

A few minutes later on the video, a center-back tried to force a tough diagonal pass instead of keeping it simple, handing the ball straight back to the opposition.

It was sloppy. They had controlled possession perfectly at 0-0, but got frantic late in the game when they should have been killing the clock.

They stopped making the easy passes and started playing on pure nerves. They got away with it because Tranmere didn’t have the quality to make them pay, but a better team would have cost them two points.

A knock on the door pulled Niels away from the screen.

It was time for the recovery session.

He shut his laptop, grabbed his jacket and headed down the hall to the gym. The players were scattered around, some slowly pedaling on stationary bikes, others grimacing on mats as they foam-rolled tight calves and hamstrings.

Niels stood by the door for a moment, just watching. He waited until a few players noticed him and the quiet chatter faded.

"Morning, lads," he said, his voice calm but clear across the gym. "Good shift yesterday. We needed three points in a tough spot, and you delivered. You dug deep."

A few guys on the bikes nodded wearily.

"But," Niels continued, pausing to make sure everyone was listening, "we need to talk about the last fifteen minutes."

He stepped further into the room. "We lost our heads. We had the lead and had them right where we wanted them. But instead of killing the game off, we gave them hope. We started taking extra touches and forcing passes that weren’t there. We turned a controlled win into a scrap."

Niels looked around, catching the eyes of a few senior players. "Three points is great. It’s exactly what we needed. But if we drop our standards and get sloppy when we’re tired, it’ll eventually cost us. We’re better than how we finished yesterday. Keep the ball, trust the shape, and make simple decisions. Understand?"

A chorus of "Yes, boss" echoed back. He didn’t want to come down on them too hard as their exhausted bodies were already doing that but the standard had to be set.

"Good. Focus on your recovery now. Hydrate, eat right, and get some rest."

As the players went back to their stretching and bikes, Niels walked through the room talking quietly with the physios and checking on minor knocks.

In the far corner, he found Kieron sitting on the floor, focused on stretching out a hamstring.

"Kieron," Niels said, pulling up a box and sitting across from him.

Kieron looked up, his eyes a little wide, like he was expecting to get in trouble for something. "Boss?"

"Relax," Niels said with a small smile. "You played a good game yesterday. A very good game."

Kieron let out a breath and his shoulders dropped. "Thanks, boss. I felt a bit heavy out there toward the end, but I tried to keep things moving."

"And you did," Niels nodded. "For the first seventy minutes, you controlled the pace. You took the ball in tight spaces, didn’t panic, and recycled it. That’s exactly what I put you in the team to do. You set the tempo."

Kieron nodded but he still looked a bit unsure. Niels had been managing long enough to spot when a player was overthinking. He knew exactly what was on Kieron’s mind.

Jamal was back from injury. He was the star pivot who could easily control the midfield and thread a perfect pass. Kieron knew Jamal was slowly working his way back into the squad, and it was natural for the young player to feel threatened.

He probably felt like he needed to add flashy tricks to his game just to keep his starting spot.

"I know what you’re thinking," Niels said quietly.

Kieron blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You see Jamal coming off the bench and hear the crowd react. You know he’s getting fit," Niels said leaning in. "And you start thinking that to stay in this team, you need to play killer through-balls or dribble past two guys in the midfield."

Kieron looked down at his shoes, his silence confirming Niels had it right.

"Look at me, Kieron."

The young midfielder looked up.

"You don’t have to be Jamal," Niels said firmly. "I already have a Jamal. What this team needs is someone who sits deep, reads the game, and never loses the ball. You just need to be Kieron."

Kieron took the words in. You could almost see the tension leave his body as the pressure to be someone else finally lifted.

"Do what you do best," Niels continued. "Protect the defense. Be the outlet for the wingers. Keep it simple and accurate, and you’ll always have a place in my plans. Don’t try to be the hero. Just be the anchor."

"I understand, boss," Kieron said, sounding much steadier. "Just be the anchor."

"Exactly." Niels patted his shoulder and stood up. "Good shift yesterday. Keep it up."

Niels walked away feeling satisfied. Tactics and video sessions were important but managing a young player’s confidence was just as crucial.

Giving Kieron a clear understanding of his role was exactly what he needed to keep developing over the next few months.

On the other side of the gym, Dev sat heavily on a bench near the changing rooms. His morning was going very differently.

An ice pack was strapped to his left ankle which throbbed with a dull ache. Tranmere’s center-backs had been rough yesterday, leaving their studs in late a couple of times.

It was just part of playing in this league, but that didn’t make the morning after any easier.

He pulled his phone from his gym bag. Among the usual notifications, one message stood out. It was from his agent.

’Just had another call. Valencia are getting serious. They want to know what you’re thinking before January 1st. We need to talk.’

Dev just stared at the text. Valencia. The name felt totally out of place here. Spain, La Liga, huge stadiums, and perfect pitches it was a different world.

He looked up at the rainy windows of the Crawley training ground. Around him, shoes squeaked on rubber mats as the guys complained about bad tackles and muddy fields.

The contrast was massive. The January transfer window was just days away, and the talk about his future was getting louder.

His agent was pushing hard clearly eager to get a huge deal done. The temptation was definitely there.

It was exactly the kind of move every kid dreamed of when they first started kicking a football against a wall.

But Dev also looked around at his teammates. He saw Kieron listening closely to Niels. He looked at the bruised exhausted guys who had just fought for an ugly 1-0 win on a freezing Boxing Day because they believed they were building something special here.

They were top three at the table chasing their own dream.

His phone buzzed again with another message.

Dev didn’t even read the preview. He just locked the screen tossed the phone into his gym bag, and zipped it shut.

He would ignore it.

For now.