Chapter 237: The Day After
December 18, 2010
The training field was still covered with a thin layer of frost. The cold air felt sharp and stung the Crawley players’ lungs as they gathered for their recovery session after the Bournemouth match.
The morning felt slow and steady. Thomas guided the players through easy jogging and stretching, his voice clear. The players looked tired and their shoulders slightly lower and their steps shorter but they were still in good spirits after yesterday’s win.
They picked their steps carefully, stretching and jogging lightly, mindful of recovery over intensity. Even though their bodies felt heavy, there was a sense of satisfaction in the group, knowing their hard work had paid off.
Ellis sat on a wooden bench after the cool-down, his breath visible in the cold as he watched the reserve players and substitutes play a light passing ga. His legs felt heavy, still sore from working hard against Bournemouth’s pressure.
Ellis stretched, exhaled slowly, and allowed a faint smile as he watched his teammates move. For the first ti since Reece got injured, Ellis didn’t feel like he was just filling in, he felt like he truly deserved his place in the starting team.
Kieron sat down next to him, his face red from the cold as he grabbed a warm jacket.
"You’re still here," he said.
"Just thinking," Ellis replied, looking out at the pitch.
"Stop overthinking. You nailed it yesterday," Kieron said, shrugging and leaning back.
Ellis looked toward the dical building, its glass windows shining in the pale winter sun. Inside, Reece was probably recovering icing his injury or doing tough rehab exercises.
"It still feels strange," Ellis said, his chest tightening as he glanced at Reece in the dical wing.
Kieron looked the sa way, his expression soft but understanding.
"He’s not going anywhere, Ellis," he said. "But neither are you. That’s what a squad is for. We’re not just backups and we’re the ones doing the job right now."
A few yards away, Max was quietly talking with Liam. While the rest of the team was still enjoying the win over Bournemouth, the captain was already thinking about their next ga against Mansfield.
"The goal looked good, but that cross from the wing made it," Liam said, tracing the ball’s path with his hand.
Max nodded, but his eyes stayed on the pitch.
"That goal was great, but Mansfield won’t give us that much room in the box," he said. "They’re physical. We need to be quicker on the second balls." He looked around at his teammates. "We celebrated the win last night. Today, we start spotting the weaknesses."
Inside the warm dical wing, the mood was tense. Reece sat on a treatnt table, his ankle wrapped in a compression sleeve. The steady hum of an ultrasound machine filled the room until the door opened.
"How’s the progress?" Niels asked, walking in.
Reece looked up, frustration clear on his face.
"Very slow," he said, clenching his fists. "It feels stable, but the physios won’t let push off fully. Watching them drives nuts."
Niels ca closer and rested a hand on the table.
"Frustration cos with healing, Reece," he said. "But if you rush it, you could be out for three months instead of three weeks. Use this ti to watch the tapes. See what Ellis and Kieron are doing right and where they’re slipping. You’re still a leader here, even if you’re not on the pitch today."
Reece let out a sigh, his jaw relaxing a little.
"I know," he said. "I just hate being on the sidelines."
As Niels left the dical wing, his eyes wandered to the far side of the pitch, away from the main group. There, under the watch of a single trainer, a familiar figure was moving.
Jamal was doing light ball work with soft touches, short side steps, and controlled passes. He wasn’t at full speed yet, but his movents were becoming smooth again.
The sight of Jamal moving with control made the squad tighten their shoulders as midfield battles were about to get fiercer.
Keiron’s brow tightened. Reclaiming his spot was thrilling but the pressure sat heavy in his chest.
The training session carried on. The cold morning faded into focused drills. Each player pushed themselves, aware that every move mattered.
Niels took out his notebook and jotted down notes about the upcoming FA Cup schedule.
With the league getting tougher and cup gas coming up, rotating the squad wasn’t optional anymore, it was necessary. He glanced from Jamal on the side-pitch, to Ellis and Kieron on the bench, and finally to Max.
The squad was coming together again. The depth they’d developed during the injury crisis was turning into their biggest strength.
"One more week," Niels murmured, watching Jamal strike a ball into a small training net. "Then we’ll see what this team can really do."
Kieron leaned back, watching Jamal work, and let out a quiet breath. "It’s going to be a war for every ball," he said to Ellis, a hint of a smile breaking.
Max’s voice carried across the pitch, sharp and clear, organizing the squad for the next drill. The players responded instinctively, their movents crisp, the intensity rising.
The whistle blew, signaling a shift into small-sided gas. Players sprinted, passed, and pressed with renewed focus. Ellis found himself caught in quick exchanges, testing his legs and timing, while Kieron darted around him, challenging every touch.
As the session wound down, the players jogged a final lap, muscles burning but spirits high. Niels called them over, nodding at their effort and the morning session ended.
As the players headed toward the showers, Niels called out.
"Rember, after the showers, we’ll have breakfast together. Then, we’ll go over the FA Cup plan and make sure everyone knows their roles. This is where preparation ets opportunity."
Soon enough, the squad gathered around the long breakfast table in the dining hall. Plates stead with eggs, toast, and porridge.
Niels stood at the head of the table, notebook open. "Let’s focus," he said, voice calm but commanding. "The FA Cup is coming up, and it’s a different kind of test. Mansfield will pressure us early, so we need sharp transitions, tight marking, and no wasted touches. Everyone has a part to play Ellis, Kieron, Pogba, you’ll all be key in midfield."
Heads nodded around the table. Max chid in, pointing to a printout of the opposition’s recent matches. "They like to overload the flanks and force turnovers. If we stay compact and read the second balls, we control the ga."
The squad listened, knives and forks paused mid-air, absorbing tactics alongside the warmth of the morning al. Conversation was focused but light at tis, small jokes and laughter punctuating the serious talk.
By the ti plates were cleared, the plan was clear. Training had sharpened their bodies and the breakfast had sharpened their minds.
Niels closed his notebook and looked around the table. "The FA Cup is day after tomorrow," he said. "So today, rest early, recover properly, and keep your focus sharp and get a full night’s sleep. Tomorrow will be light training, just to stay loose, then we build toward match day."
The players nodded, finishing the last bites of breakfast and left the training ground.
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