Chapter 72: The Night
Eventually, with the chill growing and dinnertime approaching, they made their way back to the hotel, footsteps lighter and hearts steadied by their shared resolve. Tomorrow would be one of the biggest days of their young lives. They would be ready to face it together.
Back at the hotel that night, the mood was subdued yet optimistic. After a hearty team dinner (where plates of pasta vanished in record time to refuel tired bodies), the players had been encouraged to head to their rooms for an early night. Still, a few of the boys lingered in the lobby, reluctant to let the day end.
Amani, Malik, Tijmen, and Amrabat sat together on a plush couch, recounting some of the day’s highlights. They spoke in low voices out of respect for other guests, but their excitement animated every whisper and gesture. Malik was in the middle of reenacting his sliding knee celebration from the Anderlecht game (miniaturized with hand motions) when a familiar voice interrupted.
"Well, if it isn’t Utrecht’s dream team," Abigail said warmly as she stepped into the hotel lobby, her press badge swinging gently from her lanyard. She was flanked by Mr. Pronk, who wore his usual half-gruff, half-proud expression that couldn’t quite conceal the pride in his eyes.
Abigail held up her phone and waved it slightly. "You boys are giving me a lot of work," she said with a teasing smile. "I just filed another piece, this one on the 4–0 win over Bayern Munich. The headline reads: ’Giant Killers of Group B – Utrecht’s Rise to the Final’."
The four boys: Amani, Malik, Tijmen, and Amrabat grinned as they exchanged looks. They were huddled on one of the plush lobby couches, still flushed with the afterglow of victory and the quiet thrill of what was to come.
"How’s it feel?" Abigail asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
Amani sat up slightly, brushing a hand through his curls before answering modestly, "It feels good. We worked hard, and we earned it."
"You can quote him on that," Malik added with a cheeky grin, nudging Amani with his elbow.
Abigail chuckled as she tapped a quick note into her phone. "You know what? I think I will. Also," she turned her phone screen toward Amani, "your free kick photo in the group stage is blowing up. It’s all over social media. One of the Ajax fan accounts reposted it. You’ve got fans, captain."
Amani rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide the flush in his cheeks. "That’s... cool, I guess."