Chapter 85: No Fear at Wembley
Chapter 85: No Fear at Wembley
Thursday, May 13 2010
May 13 dawned crisp over London, Wembley’s silhouette sharp against the pale sky. The air buzzed with tension. Chelsea fans flooded Wembley Way, waving blue flags and shouting, "Chels-ea!" and "Drogba’s gonna smash ya!" Their confidence was loud and clear.
At the hotel, the Crawley squad gathered over strong coffee. Niels took a small group to the pitch at 10 a.m., keeping it short and sharp. Calm but fierce, he said, "They’re giants, no doubt. But giants can fall. We’re not just here to watch, we’re here to make history. This is our moment. Take it."
Max’s red pin caught the light. "This is our stage," he growled, voice low and fierce. Thiago’s grin was sharp, almost wild. "We’ll make them regret stepping here." Luka’s eyes cut through the air. "Find the crack. Exploit it. Tear them apart."
The bus ride was tense. Chelsea fans jeered, shouting, "Back to League Two, Crawley!" But Ollie waved his "Crawley’s Here!" banner, yelling, "We’re not scared!"
Wembley’s pitch was a cool, green expanse, the air sharp with morning dew, Chelsea’s chants echoing faintly from outside. Max stood at the center circle, fists clenched, muttering, "For Crawley." Thiago kicked a ball lightly, chuckling, "This is our momemt." Luka paced the flank, eyes scanning, whispering, "Their gaps, I’ll find ’em." Baxter stood in the box, grinning, "Big, but we can defeat them." Niels watched from the touchline, his voice low, "This is where we prove ’em wrong, lads."
Ollie burst toward the goalmouth, spinning his banner, shouting, "Crawley’s not backing down!" From the stands, a Chelsea fan sneered, "Drogba’s gonna eat you alive!" But a Wembley worker’s clap cut through, "Respect, lads. You’ve got guts." The visit was brief no drills, just a moment to own the stage. The squad’s eyes burned with defiance as they turned away.
Back at the hotel, Niels ran a 15-minute stretching session in the gym, keeping it light. "Stay loose, lads. Save the fire for tomorrow." Max led slow stretches, his voice steady, "We’re ready for ’em." Thiago stretched with a wink, "Dancing mode, yeah?" Luka moved with precision, his focus a blade. The session was over fast, the squad’s energy saved, their minds on Chelsea’s roar outside.