Touchline Rebirth: From Game To Glory-Chapter 111: What Stays, What Goes

Chapter 111: What Stays, What Goes

Monday, July 5, 2010

The morning air at Broadfield Stadium was crisp, laced with the familiar scent of damp grass and yesterday’s rain still clinging to the pitch. Beyond the stands, the quiet stir of Crawley waking up drifted in the hum of early buses, the distant clang of delivery trucks, and the occasional bark of a dog cutting through the stillness. Inside the gates, the ground felt heavy underfoot, the kind of morning that carried both promise and unease, as if the day itself wasn’t sure what it would become.

Niels stood at the edge of the pitch, his boots sinking slightly into the muddy patches, the lessons from his coaching journey still fresh in his mind discipline, balance, long-term vision, and the energy of youth.

The pressure of the transfer window was building. Max hadn’t returned, with Levante pushing hard to sign him. Parma wanted Luka.

Preseason was starting, and the first group of players had arrived. But Luka’s silence and Max’s absence hung over the muddy training ground. Niels took a deep breath. It was time to rebuild, even if the team’s foundation felt unsteady.

The training ground was full of energy as players returned, mostly young hopefuls with bright eyes, along with a few experienced team members warming up, their boots scraping the grass.

Thiago was there, smiling as he juggled the ball, but Luka was missing. His silence was louder than any words. No calls, no messages, just an empty space where he should have been.

Niels felt deep down that Luka had already chosen to leave for Parma, the chance to play in Serie A was too strong. But without any official word, it bothered him. Max hadn’t come back from Spain either. His quiet phone call the day before stayed in Niels’s mind, his low voice hinting at doubts because of Levante’s offer.

The field felt emptier without them, but Niels pushed those thoughts away and focused on the players who were there, ready to help build Crawley’s future.

Thomas, the new fitness coach, led the morning tests. He moved quickly and purposefully, setting up cones and timers. His style was strict but clear, his Dutch accent standing out as he shouted, "Give it your all!" holding a stopwatch, he watched players sprint across the pitch. "Give it your all, or don’t bother," he said.

Several players, tired after the season break, found it hard to keep up. Their breaths were heavy and faces red. Niels watched from the sidelines, impressed by Thomas’s way of coaching, no cheering, just clear instructions and a focus on results. "They don’t need cheerleaders,"

During a break, Thomas wiped sweat from his forehead and told Niels, "They need clear instructions. If you tell them exactly what to do, they’ll work harder." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

A young striker from the academy, breathing hard after a sprint, nodded at Thomas’s advice and got ready for the next drill. Niels saw hope growing, the coach’s methods were already building the strength he had promised.

At midday, Niels met Emma in his office, the familiar clutter of match programs, a chipped mug, and a photo of the FA Cup run grounding him. The window overlooked the pitch, where Thomas was still running drills, the youth players’ laughter mixing with the thud of boots.

"Any transfer updates?" Niels asked, his voice steady but braced. Emma sat on the edge of the desk, her arms crossed, her expression tense. "Good news on Drinkwater," she said. "United’s open to a loan, but the agent want a playtime clause for him, guaranteed minutes. Talks are moving forward."

Niels nodded, picturing Drinkwater’s steady work rate filling the gap left by Baxter. "And Pogba?" he asked, his hope tempered by the challenge. Emma’s eyes narrowed. "His agent’s intrigued but hesitant. They want proof of our vision, not just words. They’re asking about game time, your plans, how we’d build around him."

Niels leaned back, the creak of his chair echoing the weight of the moment. Pogba was a dream, a talent who could redefine Crawley’s midfield, but convincing him would take more than promises. "Keep pushing," he said. "We’ll show them what Crawley can be."

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the pitch, Niels was wrapping up notes when he heard footsteps on the grass.

He looked up and saw Max returning from Spain, walking slowly across the field with his kit bag over his shoulder. No smile, no wave just a quiet figure with his head down, his usual energy gone.

Niels stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing his face, and approached his captain. "Good to see you back, Max," he said, keeping his tone warm but careful.

Max nodded, his eyes meeting Niels’s briefly before drifting to the empty stands. "Yeah, good to be back," he mumbled, his voice flat, lacking the grit that had carried Crawley through battles.

Niels saw that Max seemed withdrawn, his shoulders hunched like he was carrying a heavy burden. "Everything okay?" Niels asked gently. Max paused, his jaw tight. "Just tired from the trip, Coach."

But Niels felt there was more something hidden, the pull of Levante’s offer and La Liga tempting him. Niels didn’t push. He let the silence stay. "Alright, Go get some rest," he said, patting Max’s shoulder. "We’ll talk about it tomorrow." Max nodded and walked away, his steps fading into the evening.

That night, Niels sat alone in his office, the stadium silent, the pitch cloaked in darkness save for the faint glow of floodlights.

Rain gently tapped against the window, matching the quiet mood at Broadfield. He opened his "Future Stars" notebook, the names inside shining faintly like small hopes in the dark. A slight smile touched his lips, Drinkwater was almost agreed for a loan, and there was even a chance for Pogba.

The uncertainty felt heavy. Luka’s silence seemed final, a sign he was already halfway to Parma. Max’s quiet return and withdrawn mood showed a crack in Crawley’s defense. Barkley was still too young for a guaranteed loan. Drinkwater’s deal was close but not finished. Pogba felt like a distant dream, with his agent still unsure.

Niels picked up a pen and wrote, steady but weighed down: The key player’s vanishing before the season starts. The words stung, but they didn’t break him.

Instead, they sparked a quiet fire inside, a determination built on discipline, balance, clear vision, and energy.

Niels sank into his chair, surrounded by the familiar chaos of his office, stacks of old match programs, a worn mug filled with pens, and a faded photo reminding him of Crawley’s proudest moments.

Thomas’s tough training was already shaping a team tough enough for the challenges ahead. The transfer window was a storm offers, scouts, limited funds but Niels saw opportunity in the chaos.

He would fight to keep Max, hope Luka would stay, secure Drinkwater, and pursue Pogba’s promise. The new season was fast approaching, fierce and unforgiving, but Niels was ready.