Chapter 5: We Won't Be Relegated
The scenery outside the bus window flowed backward like a slow-moving painting.
Green pastures stretched endlessly across the land. Cattle and sheep dotted the fields, grazing lazily. Rows of crops swayed gently under the spring breeze.
Joshua Smith sat by the window.
Silent.
Watching.
Thinking.
It was the next morning.
He was on a short-distance bus traveling from London to Luton.
His new destination.
His new battlefield.
What does it take to be a head coach?
The question lingered in Joshua's mind.
Simple.
Yet
Not simple at all.
He wasn't naive.
The Soccer Card System gave him an advantage.
A powerful one.
But Joshua understood something clearly
A team could not be built on cards alone.
A head coach needed to:
Manage the squad
Design training programs
Control the locker room
Handle tactics and in-game decisions
Identify and recruit players
None of those responsibilities could be solved with a single button.
Or a glowing interface.
Joshua exhaled slowly.
Although he now carried the experience of two lifetimes…
He had never truly been a first-team head coach.
In this life
He had gone from university…
To coaching certification…
To youth coaching at Chelsea F.C.
That was all.
Youth football and professional first-team management
They were two completely different worlds.
This step
Taking over Luton Town F.C.
Was the most important move of his career so far.
Because in football
Results weren't everything.
But they were the beginning of everything.
Prestige.
That was what mattered.
Joshua's gaze drifted toward the distant fields.
He remembered something clearly.
When José Mourinho arrived at Chelsea years ago
Fresh off winning the Champions League
He had walked into a dressing room full of stars and declared:
"I am a special one."
Why could he say that?
Because he had earned it.
Because he had results.
Because he had prestige.
If an unknown coach said the same thing
He would be laughed out of the room.
Joshua's eyes sharpened slightly.
"…Then I'll earn mine."
Last night
He had stayed up late, reviewing everything about Luton Town.
The club was located just north of London.
A small town team.
Founded in 1885.
Nicknamed "The Hatters," a name rooted in the town's historic hat-making industry.
Their history was modest.
They had once reached England's top division in the 1980s.
But since then
Decline.
Relegation.
Financial instability.
Recently
Things had collapsed completely.
Relegated.
Then
A massive points deduction.
Minus thirty points at the start of the season.
Joshua tapped his fingers lightly against the window.
That number alone
Could destroy any team.
Even without the deduction
Luton's squad had already fallen apart.
Most of their key players had left.
Even promising reserves had moved on.
All that remained
Was a skeleton.
However
Joshua's thoughts were calm.
According to what David Morton had told him
The financial crisis had been resolved.
Debts cleared.
Wages stabilized.
There was even
A small transfer budget.
Not much.
But enough.
Because Joshua didn't need money.
He needed information.
And that
He had in abundance.
The bus slowed.
The scenery shifted.
From open countryside
To rows of small houses.
Luton.
A quiet town.
Narrow streets.
Red-brick buildings.
A population that felt more like a community than a city.
Joshua stepped off the bus.
The air felt different.
Cleaner.
Simpler.
David Morton was already waiting.
He led Joshua through the town.
Past houses.
Down narrow roads.
Toward the stadium.
Luton Town F.C.'s home ground
Kenilworth Road.
It wasn't impressive.
Not even close.
A small stadium.
Old.
Worn.
Seats faded with time.
The grass is slightly overgrown.
Nothing like Stamford Bridge.
Nearby
A modest two-story building served as the club office.
Gym.
Recovery room.
A few offices.
Basic.
Functional.
Nothing more.
"This is the Kenilworth Stand," Morton said, pointing as they walked.
"And over there the Oak Road Stand."
He gestured again.
"Main stand on the left. The other side… smaller seating."
Joshua listened quietly.
Observing everything.
Absorbing it.
Then he glanced at Morton.
"You're American?"
Morton smiled faintly.
"Nationality, yes."
Then he looked at the stadium.
"But I grew up here."
"My mother loved this club."
"I used to sit in those stands with her."
His voice softened slightly.
Then hardened again.
"This is the worst moment in Luton's history."
He looked at Joshua.
Serious.
Direct.
"I don't expect miracles this season."
"Survival… is unlikely."
"But next year"
"We rebuild."
"We come back."
Joshua stopped walking.
The sunlight angled across the pitch.
Casting long shadows across the grass.
He looked at the field.
Then at Morton.
His eyes
Were steady.
Confident.
Unshaken.
"We won't be relegated."
Morton blinked.
"…What?"
Joshua repeated calmly.
"I said"
"We won't be relegated."
Silence.
The statement hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unbelievable.
Everyone knew the reality.
Minus thirty points.
Broken squad.
No depth.
No stars.
Relegation was almost certain.
But
Looking at Joshua's expression
Morton hesitated.
There was no hesitation in those eyes.
No doubt.
No fear.
Only certainty.
For a moment
Morton felt something strange.
Hope.
"…You sound like Mourinho," he muttered unconsciously.
Then he shook his head slightly.
And smiled.
"Alright."
"No pressure this season."
"I promise."
He extended his fist.
Joshua looked at it.
Then
Raised his own.
Tap.
A simple gesture.
But in that moment
Something was decided.
Young owner.
Young coach.
A broken club.
And a declaration
Against fate itself.
The sunlight stretched across the pitch.
Their shadows grew longer.
And somewhere deep inside
The first step of a legend
Had already begun.
(End of Chapter 5)