Chapter 79: Second or Nothing
Chapter 79: Second or Nothing
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Crawley Town’s flame flickered but kept burning after a 2-2 draw with Northampton Town. Max Simons scored twice, but a gutting 92nd-minute equalizer left them with 88 points still in 2nd place in League Two. Notts County, already crowned champions with 93 points, awaited them in the final match at Meadow Lane on May 6. Bournemouth, sitting 3rd with 87 points, were still close behind. Crawley’s promotion was already sealed. Now it was about finishing strong, holding onto 2nd, and building momentum for the Chelsea FA Cup final. Could Max’s fire and Thiago’s flair rise again or would the league champions remind Crawley who ruled the league?
The morning of May 2 broke bright over Crawley, the sting of Northampton fading, but not forgotten. High Street was alive red scarves in shop windows, "Wembley Awaits" signs taped to doors, buses painted with Crawley crests roaring past. Overnight, a new mural had appeared on the side of the bakery: Max mid-header, Thiago mid-celebration, a Chelsea badge glowing behind them like a sun. Fans gathered to take photos, some just stood and stared. A little boy in a too-big kit touched Max’s image and whispered, "Bring it home, captain." In the pubs, talk of Messi and Drogba faded beneath chants of "Red Devils!" and predictions for Meadow Lane. Promotion secured, but the dream wasn’t done. The streets of Crawley beat with one belief: Wembley waits for winners.
At Broadfield by 9:00 a.m., the training ground thrummed, the scent of liniment sharp, grass glistening with dew. Niels kept drills light to preserve legs, his voice steady but laced with urgency, eyes scanning the squad like a general before battle. "Northampton caught us late, but we learn from it. Now it’s Notts County champions for a reason. They break fast, their midfield keeps it tight, and they’re sharp on set pieces. So we stay smart, stay focused, and finish this right." Max’s boots, scuffed from Sixfields’ mud, sat on a bench like a talisman, each player tapping them as they passed, a silent vow. Ollie, 13 year old kid, slipped into the training ground, invited by Niels for his unwavering support, his "Reds to Wembley!" banner tucked under his arm. His shout, "Thi-a-go, king!" ignited cheers, Thiago jogging over to clap his shoulder, "You’re our spark, kid!" Ollie’s eyes shone, his scarf a red blaze in the sunlight, his voice trembling with awe.
Niels stood alone on the edge of the pitch, reading the game in his mind. Notts County, he thought, the league champions. Their wingers slice inside like knives, their striker always hunting for space in the box. He traced a line on his clipboard and whispered, "Close the flanks. Stay tight. Press high. No room to breathe." The final challenge was clear.
Drills kicked off, Thiago’s flair lighting up the pitch, Instinct Lens [Silky technique] flaring as he weaved through cones, his stepovers a blur, drawing gasps from a cluster of young fans at the fence, one shouting, "Thi-a-go!" José Baxter looked around at the squad and smiled softly. "We’ve got this, lads. Let’s keep our heads and play our game." The small reassurance lifted the mood, and for a moment, the weight on their shoulders felt a little lighter. Max led a passing drill, Instinct Lens [Leadership] glowing, his voice a spark splitting the chill, "Lads, Notts are tough, but we’re tougher. For every fan, we fight!" Nate sprinted down the wing, Instinct Lens [Explosiveness] glowing, his cross pinpoint to Korey Henry, who nodded it just wide, fans chanting, "Na-ate!" Ollie’s banner waved from the sidelines, his cry, "Craw-ley, rise!" echoing like a heartbeat, sparking smiles across the squad. Liam McCulloch’s tackle in a scrimmage, Instinct Lens Steel glowing, halted Dev Patel with a thud, drawing, "Li-am!" Niels watched, his heart pounding, the Northampton equalizer a ghost in his mind, urging, "Stay tight, lads. No gaps!"