Chapter 13: Rumblings
Chapter 13: Rumblings
The rain came steady that morning—thin streaks tapping on the windows of the training facility like fingers too polite to knock.
Inside, Niels stood by the glass, arms crossed, eyes distant. The pitch outside looked heavier than usual, soaked and dragging at the boots of the early arrivals. Jamal and McCulloch were already jogging slow laps, their breath rising in soft clouds. Dev shuffled out next, hoodie up, earbuds in. The kid still looked like he wasn't sure if the last few weeks were real.
Behind Niels, the door eased open with a familiar creak.
"Press is here," Wallace said, stepping in with two cups of tea. "Brought company too."
Niels turned. "Company?"
"Tripods. Boom mics. A couple of eager interns with too much gel in their hair. Local news types—waiting for someone to slip up and hand them a headline."
Niels took the tea and stared into the steam. "I should've worn a better jacket."
Wallace grinned. "You're not a pop star, Niels. Just a football coach. Act like it."
But that was the thing. Lately, it hadn't felt like just football. Every pass on the pitch was underlined by expectations. Every glance from the boardroom came with questions. Every whisper in the hallway sounded like the start of a rumour.
The team was winning. That was the truth. But winning came with weight.