Chapter 25: The Matches You Don't Remember, But Always Matter
Friday, 19 December
The wind was sharp again, bitter but not strong. It slipped through jacket gaps, between zips and collars. At the training ground, even the usual small talk was cut down to the essentials.
Niels stood near the halfway line, arms folded, watching Reece adjust his shin pads mid-drill. The mood wasn't tense, just serious and more focused.
Accrington Stanley were next. Away.
No glamour, no noise. Just one of those matches you mark on the calendar, not because they're special, but because they'll punish you if you're not ready.
"They'll make it ugly," Niels said during the walk-through. "So we take control first."
He didn't draw too many diagrams and didn't go too deep into tactics as the team already knew. The rhythm had started to live inside them now.
Luka moved different in buildup. Nate no longer waited for direction, he gave it. Max had stopped trying to chase the spectacular and started playing like a man who trusted what would come.
It was slow, subtle, but clear. The climb wasn't glamorous, but it was real.
Saturday, Matchday 19: Crawley Town vs Accrington Stanley (A)
The bus pulled into a narrow lot beside the stadium just after noon. Low stands, wind swirling in the corners, and the smell of old burgers in the air. A few kids leaned over the railings, marker pens in hand.
As the players filed out, Luka pulled his hood up. "This place always feels like it's waiting for a fight."
Nate smirked. "So don't blink."
Inside, the away dressing room was cramped. One long bench on each side. No music this time. Just tape tearing, studs scraping, the snap of gloves going on.
Niels stood near the door, giving them space. When everyone was seated, he stepped forward.
"Don't try to catch up to them," he said softly. "Make them try to catch up to us."
A few people nodded. No one needed to give a big speech.What mattered now was believing.
Kickoff:
The first ten minutes were nothing but second balls and collisions.
Accrington came flying out with crunching tackles, clipped balls into the corners, one long throw after another. It wasn't fancy, but it was their way.
Crawley held the line. Max dropped back to help Dev and Ellis keep their shape. Reece dived into tackles. Luka moved through the chaos, slipping past players and playing quick passes before anyone could close him down.
But having the ball didn't matter much here. This game was about control, the kind that comes from staying calm under pressure.
In the 28th minute, Crawley almost broke. A high cross dropped behind the defense, and the Accrington striker jumped unmarked. Free header just missed by inches.
Niels didn't flinch. He just turned slightly and made a note in his book.
Halftime: 0–0
Inside the dressing room, nobody slouched. Nobody shouted.
Reece took a sip of water and spoke first: "We're one pass from breaking them."
Niels pointed to the whiteboard, where he'd sketched three quick triangles and said "They pack the right side," he said. "So we use the space on the left."
He looked at Luka, then at Max.
"It's there, if one of you is brave enough to make the first move."
Second Half:
Crawley began to impose their game, not avoiding the chaos, but using it to their advantage.
In the 54th minute, it all came together.
Luka dropped into a deep spot, dragged a defender with him, then slid the ball to Max, who played it out wide to Reece.
One touch. Then a sharp cross to the edge of the box.
Nate arrived again. Same run, same quiet confidence.
He struck it low, it was precise and ruthless. The net rippled, and the whole game changed.
1–0.
No loud cheers. Just a quick glance shared between three players. Like they knew it was meant to happen all along.
After that, Accrington turned up the pressure long balls, set pieces, and testing every limit. The ref started to miss calls, or maybe just ignore them.
Dev got hit with a late kick in the 70th minute. Reece was shoved into the advertising board at 75. Luka got stepped on during a scramble but stayed calm and got up.
That's what set them apart now. They didn't back down.
Final Whistle: 1–0 Crawley wins
Niels didn't raise his arms nor did he shout. Just clapped once and turned toward the tunnel.
Behind him, the players exchanged quiet smiles, pats on the back, and small nods.No big celebrations, just the quiet pride of a job done right.
One of those matches people don't write headlines about. But the kind that wins promotions. The kind that proves something internal.
Sunday
Recovery was quiet and calm. The physio room hummed with soft chatter and the whirr of machines. A few sore ribs, an iced ankle, nothing serious.
Max had bruises on both shins. Dev had a cut just under the knee. Reece still walked like a man with unfinished business.
But the smiles were real, hard-earned.
Niels sat in his office again that evening. Coffee on the desk. A fresh file open.
He typed:
"It's not the matches you remember that define a season.
It's the ones you survive, with your shape intact."
He leaned back, exhaled slowly.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Another message from his sister.
"Mum says she found your old tracksuit. The one with the hole in the knee. Dad says it still smells like grass. Also… they're asking if you're coming home for Christmas. Or maybe New Year?"
Niels stared at the screen.
There was a beat of silence in the room. Just the faint hum of the radiator, and the tapping of rain against the window.
He hadn't been back. Not since everything… changed. No memories of that house. No connection to those small things the hole in the knee, the old smells, the family habits. They remembered everything but he remembered nothing.
It wasn't their fault.
He typed slowly:
"Tell Dad he should probably wash it."
Then, after a pause, he added:
"I'll see about New Year."
Not a yes nor a no.
But it meant something.
He set the phone face down and leaned back in his chair, eyes tracing the ceiling.
A part of him wanted to go, to take the chance to fill the empty spaces with something real, something that mattered. But another part, the one that felt like a visitor in someone else's story wasn't sure he could.
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