Chapter 33: Cup Fever Rising
Friday, January 8, 2010
The team bus moved through London as evening settled in.
January had made the air cold, and the headlights reflected off the wet roads as Crawley made its way toward Brisbane Road.
Niels sat near the front, looking out the window with his notebook resting on his lap.
The pages were filled with notes about Leyton Orient.
They were a League One side.
Crawley were in League Two.
On paper, there was a clear difference between the two teams.
Niels looked down at his notes again.
"Get it together," he muttered.
He had been trying not to think about his old life, but the memories kept coming back.
FIFA.
Player ratings.
FA Cup matches.
None of it was clear anymore. The memories came in pieces, and sometimes he wasn't even sure if he remembered something or was simply imagining it.
He closed the notebook.
There was no point worrying about it now.
The match was real.
The players were real.
And he was the one responsible for them.
A voice came from the back of the bus.
"Luka, you planning to walk past Orient's defence, or are you going to trip over your own feet again?"
Korey Henry was grinning.
Luka Radev, sitting across from him, shook his head.
"Keep talking. I'll leave you behind."
Max Simons leaned back in his seat.
"Save it for the pitch. Score first, celebrate later."
Korey laughed.
"Look who's suddenly serious."
"Someone has to be."
The players laughed, and the mood on the bus became a little lighter.
Niels couldn't help smiling.
He had been tense since they left Crawley.
Listening to them reminded him that this wasn't just another match on paper.
These were the players he worked with every day.
He glanced toward the seats behind him.
Max.
Luka.
Korey.
Dev Patel.
Nate Sutton.
Jamal Osei.
Tom Whitehall.
Reece Darby.
Adam Fletcher.
They were all here for the same reason.
To play.
To win.
And maybe cause an upset.
Niels caught Reece looking at him from the next seat.
"You alright, boss?"
Niels nodded.
"Yeah. Just feeling the pressure a bit."
Reece shrugged.
"That's what these games are for."
He looked toward the window.
"I was born for this."
Niels smiled.
"Good. You'll need that attitude."
The bus continued through the streets.
A little later, Brisbane Road finally came into view.
The floodlights stood out against the dark sky.
Crawley's supporters were already making themselves heard outside. There weren't many of them compared to the home crowd, but they were loud enough.
Niels took a breath.
This was it.
Inside the dressing room, the players changed quickly.
Niels stood in front of them.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
He looked around the room.
"Orient are a League One team," he said. "We know that."
The players listened.
"But that doesn't mean we go out there expecting to lose."
Niels pointed toward the door.
"Keep the ball when we have it. Stay together when we don't. Fight for every challenge."
He paused.
"And enjoy the game. You've earned the chance to play here."
The players nodded.
Max clenched his fists.
Luka looked eager to get onto the pitch.
Toby and Ilyas were quiet, but both were focused.
Kieron took a deep breath.
Niels looked at them one last time.
"Let's see what we can do."
The players got to their feet.
A few minutes later, they walked into the tunnel.
The noise from the stands grew louder with every step.
Orient's players stood opposite them, calm and confident.
Niels watched from the side as the teams lined up.
His heart was beating faster now.
There was no system that could win the match for him.
No reset button.
No second attempt.
Just ninety minutes.
The players walked onto the pitch.
Brisbane Road was packed, and the noise was almost overwhelming.
The announcer's voice came through the speakers.
"Welcome to Brisbane Road for this FA Cup Third Round clash between Leyton Orient and Crawley Town!"
Niels took his place on the touchline.
The referee checked his watch.
The players moved into position.
For a second, Niels could almost hear an old radio commentator in his head.
"And we're off!"
The whistle blew.
Kickoff:
Orient started quickly.
Their winger got past Nate on the right and pushed toward the box, but Reece came across and slid in at the perfect moment.
The ball went out for a throw.
The Crawley fans cheered.
"Darby's a wall!"
Niels clapped from the touchline.
A few minutes later, Jamal won the ball in midfield and played it forward to Luka.
Luka tried to get around his marker, but the defender stayed with him and eventually took the ball away.
"Keep it simple!" Niels shouted.
Orient were giving them very little space.
Then, in the 19th minute, Crawley got their chance.
Dev stood over a free-kick on the left.
He sent the ball toward the back post.
Korey timed his run perfectly and rose above his marker.
His header flew past the goalkeeper.
"Goal!"
The Crawley supporters erupted.
"Crawley lead one-nil!"
Korey ran toward the corner, with several teammates chasing after him.
Niels pumped his fist before pointing toward the centre circle.
"Back in position! Everyone!"
The players quickly moved into shape.
Orient responded almost immediately.
Their striker rose for a header inside the box, but Fletcher threw himself across goal and pushed it away.
"Great save!"
Fletcher got back to his feet and shouted at the defenders to stay focused.
Crawley tried to settle the game down.
Max held the ball up well and brought Tom into the attack.
Tom crossed toward the far side, but the ball caught Nate and went just wide.
"Unlucky!"
The game continued at a fast pace.
Neither side managed another goal before the break.
Half-time came with the score still 1–0.
Inside the dressing room, the players were tired but focused.
Niels looked around at them.
"Don't think we're finished yet."
Everyone went quiet.
"They're going to come at us in the second half. Stay compact and don't give them easy chances."
He pointed toward the attacking players.
"When we win it, move quickly. There'll be space for us."
The players nodded.
Korey was still smiling after his goal.
Jamal sat quietly, listening to everything Niels said.
"Keep working," Niels finished. "We're still in this."
The second half was much harder.
Orient pushed forward from the start.
Their midfielders moved the ball quickly, forcing Crawley deeper and deeper.
Niels kept shouting instructions from the touchline.
"Stay together!"
But the pressure continued.
Then, in the 62nd minute, Orient won a corner.
The ball was delivered into the box.
Crawley's defenders lost track of one player.
Their centre-back was completely unmarked.
He met the cross with a header and sent it past Fletcher.
"Goal! Orient equalise!"
1–1.
The home crowd erupted.
Niels stood on the touchline, watching the players reset.
"Forget it!" he shouted. "Keep your heads up!"
Crawley slowly started pushing forward again.
Luka received the ball in midfield and slipped a pass through to Max.
Max took a touch and shot.
The goalkeeper got a hand to it, sending the ball over the bar.
"Simons nearly puts Crawley back in front!"
Niels turned toward his bench.
"Toby. Ilyas. Get ready."
A few minutes later, both players came on.
The fresh legs immediately gave Crawley more energy.
The game became more open.
The clock continued to run.
Five minutes.
Four.
Three.
The Crawley fans kept singing.
"Red Devils!"
Niels watched the players carefully.
Then, in the 88th minute, Luka picked up the ball near the edge of the box.
He moved past one defender.
Then another.
The second defender stepped toward him, but Luka managed to keep the ball and slip a pass into the box.
Korey was already making the run.
He reached the ball first.
One touch.
Then he fired it past the goalkeeper.
"He's through!"
"HE'S DONE IT!"
"Crawley lead two-one!"
For a moment, the stadium went quiet.
Then the away end exploded.
The Crawley players ran toward Korey.
Niels jumped into the air before turning toward the pitch.
"Hold it! Stay focused!"
The final few minutes felt endless.
Orient threw everyone forward.
A shot from outside the box beat Fletcher but struck the post.
The Crawley fans gasped.
A minute later, another effort came through a crowd of players.
Fletcher got his fingertips to it and pushed it away.
"Brilliant!"
Reece then threw himself in front of another shot, blocking it before the ball could reach the goal.
Niels could barely look at the clock.
90 minutes.
Then 91.
Finally, the referee raised his whistle.
The final whistle blew.
"That's it!"
"Leyton Orient have been beaten!"
"Crawley Town have done it!"
Leyton Orient 1–2 Crawley Town.
The Crawley players rushed toward Korey.
Luka jumped onto him, laughing as the others joined in.
Niels stood near the touchline, watching them celebrate.
He couldn't stop smiling.
The away supporters were still singing.
"We're the Red Devils!"
Crawley Town had beaten a League One side away from home.
And they were through to the next round of the FA Cup.
Back in the dressing room, the players were still celebrating.
Niels waited for them to settle before speaking.
"That's who you are. You just beat a League One team away from home. Enjoy it tonight, but don't get comfortable. Grimsby is next, and we need the same hunger."
The players nodded.
On the bus ride home, the singing continued. Niels sat near the front, listening to the noise behind him.
A Cup run.
Quarter-finals. Maybe even the semi-finals.
For the first time, it didn't feel completely impossible.
His memories of the future were still broken and unreliable. He couldn't use them as a guide anymore.
He thought about Milan and the person he'd been before all this.
A guy who used to manage teams through a screen.
Now he was actually doing it.
January 8
Broadfield was already busy when training started.
The players were preparing for Grimsby, and the win over Orient had clearly lifted their confidence.
Luka moved the ball quickly.
[One-touch intelligence]
Korey kept finding space on the wing.
[Inverted winger potential]
Toby chased down a loose ball.
[Late bloomer]
Kieron struggled with his touches.
[Unstable confidence]
"Trust your feet, Kieron," Niels called.
Kieron nodded and tried again.
Halfway through training, Niels' phone rang.
Claire.
"Thiago's talks are going well. São Paulo are open to a sale for around £200k. If that doesn't work, they may accept a loan with a buy option."
"Push for the permanent deal," Niels said. "If we can't, take the loan-to-buy."
"Baxter is almost done. Everton are willing to loan him."
"And Smalling?"
"Fulham said no."
Niels sighed.
"What about Campbell?"
"Interested, but his wages are high."
"Keep talking to him."
"Will do."
The call ended.
Niels looked back at the pitch.
His old FIFA memories were fading, but some of the players' names still meant something to him.
Thiago.
Baxter.
Maybe they could help Crawley.
The session finished soon after.
Luka's header went wide, and Toby chased after the ball.
Niels watched with his arms folded.
Orient was behind them now.
The Cup was still alive.
His phone buzzed again.
Elise.
"Cup hero! Pie's losing it. Home soon?"
Niels smiled.
"Soon, sis. The dream's just started."
He put his phone away and looked toward the empty stands.
Brisbane Road had shown him what Crawley could do.
Now they had another test.
Grimsby was next.