Chapter 3: First Test
Chapter 3: First Test
Matchday.
The air on Saturday morning carried that strange mix of nerves and damp English weather—fog curling low over the Crawley car park, dew on the grass, and the metallic tang of anticipation that settled in Niels's chest the second he woke up.
He got in early. before Milan. Before the players. He needed the quiet time. Just him, the tactics board, and the clunky old coffeemaker sputtering like it hated being awake too.
The away trip to Mansfield wasn't glamorous. Their pitch had more sand than soil. The stadium felt more like a municipal rec ground than a professional venue. But for Crawley—sitting 21st in the league—it was massive.
A win could drag them up. A loss, and the whispers would start again. "Relegation form." or "Manager's lost the room."
Niels wasn't the manager, not yet—but today, it felt like he had the wheel.
He stared at the board. Shifted magnets. Then shifted them again.
4-2-3-1? Too passive.
4-3-3? Risky.
Eventually, he settled on a compact 4-4-2 diamond. Narrow. Ugly. Functional.