Chapter 22 – I was supposed to show them
—
Minute 89:26.
The cold air hung heavy over Elland Road.
Everything Leeds had was on the pitch now. No one sat back. Not the full-backs. Not even the center-backs. The final push — it was all or nothing.
A looping ball came toward Nathan near the edge of the box. He leapt for it, nodding it down into Tyler Brown's path — but the Norwich defender got there first.
Thud! — the clearance came sharp and fast, cutting through the midfield like a dagger.
"Tch… no one's there to cover," Marco muttered.
And then it happened.
89:49.
Norwich turned defense into blitzkrieg.
A touch out wide to the left.
The winger didn't hesitate. He sprinted into space, burning grass under his boots.
Leeds defenders scrambled to retreat, but they were outnumbered — and worse, off-balance.
"Get back!!" Jamal Carter roared, legs pumping furiously.
The Norwich winger drove to the byline and swung in a cross.
Whip!
One sharp motion. Perfectly timed.
The ball curved with menace — dipping, fast, surgical.
Nathan's heart sank the second it left the winger's foot.
The striker in the middle didn't slow down. He charged between the two center-backs, eyes locked on the ball.
Crack!! — A first-time strike.
Low. Clean. Ruthless.
The net bulged in the bottom corner.
2-0.
Silence.
Like someone had punched the air out of the entire stadium.
Nathan stood still for a second, blinking, as if maybe — just maybe — it was an illusion.
Then he dropped to his knees.
Not in drama.
Not in desperation.
Just… nothing left.
The final whistle blew seconds later.
Full Time.
—
Scattered claps echoed through the night.
A few loyal fans applauded, trying to lift the boys with dignity.
But most filed out in silence, shoulders hunched, scarves held close, jaws clenched shut.
The kind of silence that hurt.
Not anger.
Not outrage.
Just heartbreak.
Nathan sat on the grass, breath misting in front of him. His hands hung limply between his knees. His boots were muddy, his socks soaked through, his whole body aching from ninety minutes of war.
But that wasn't what stung.
It was the scoreboard behind the goal, glowing in unforgiving red:
LEEDS UNITED 0 – 2 NORWICH CITY
A line of numbers. Cold and clinical.
And yet it said everything.
Marco walked over, chest heaving. He dropped beside Nathan without a word, resting his arms on his knees.
After a few seconds, he let out a long sigh.
"Haaah…"
Nathan didn't look at him. His eyes were locked on the penalty spot, like it might offer him an answer if he stared hard enough.
"I missed two sitters," he muttered.
Marco gave a short laugh. "Mate, we all missed more than we made tonight. Doesn't matter if you nutmegged half the pitch — it's goals that count."
Nathan bit down on the inside of his cheek. The taste of sweat and blood and failure lingered.
"I was supposed to show them…" he whispered.
Marco tilted his head.
"Show who?"
Nathan didn't answer.