Chapter 12: Shadows and Spotlight
Chapter 12: Shadows and Spotlight
Morning came slow.
For once, Niels didn't wake up to the blare of an alarm or the rustle of match notes. No drills echoing in his head. No schedules blinking on a phone screen. It was light—sunlight, soft and unfamiliar—spilling through the blinds and gently pulling him out of sleep.
His body felt sore. Not from running or lifting, but from something deeper. A kind of heaviness that came from carrying too much inside. Mental fatigue. Emotional drain.
Oxford still echoed in his mind.
The final whistle. The raw shouts. The effort in every sprint. Luka pressing with everything left in his legs. Simons throwing himself into tackles like it was the last game of his life. Dev, young and reckless, refusing to be rattled. And Jamal—steady, calm—dictating the rhythm like a metronome, dragging the team along with every pass.
They'd pulled off something special.
And now, the world had noticed.
His phone buzzed again. It hadn't really stopped since last night. Notifications stacked like dominoes. Headlines. Social media posts. Podcast clips calling Crawley Town the "Cup Darlings" of the early rounds. One labeled him "The Touchline Tactician"—a name that sounded more like a Saturday cartoon than a serious compliment.
He scrolled slowly.
Celebration photos. Luka's goal from the edge of the box. His own image on the touchline—mid-shout, coat flapping, eyebrows drawn tight.