Chapter 25 – No Rest in the Climb
The buzz from the Oxford win still lingered like smoke in the cold morning air. Crawley Town's name was suddenly on people's lips, headlines, and even a few hopeful pundit shows. But as far as the league was concerned, the magic of the cup didn't buy you points.
And the league didn't wait.
Next up: an away trip to Macclesfield Town. A gritty side, scrapping near the bottom of the table like Crawley. The kind of team that didn't bother with flair—just muscle, urgency, and the occasional hoofed long ball into no man's land.
Perfect.
The days before were heavy with training. Not all-out sessions, but focused. Smart. Niels balanced things carefully. He didn't want to burn players out after the high of the cup. But something had changed. He could feel it—some of the younger ones floated a little too high. A few heads turned when cameras showed up at the training ground. Luka arrived late to one session. Then again the next day.
It wasn't malicious, just… carelessness. Ego? Niels couldn't say for sure. But he logged it. Quietly.
Whitehall had been training well. Sharpe too, even after coming off the bench against Oxford. Dev Patel was sharp, working hard despite being targeted in recent matches. So Niels made a choice—subtle but deliberate.
No full rotation, but Luka and a couple of usual starters began on the bench. A message without a speech. Hunger had to be earned.
Macclesfield's pitch was patchy, even though it hadn't rained in days. A mix of dry cracks and stubborn puddles. The kind of surface that turned even good football ugly.
The opening fifteen minutes were a brawl. Crawley couldn't settle. Reece Darby got clattered twice in five minutes. Dev's usual dribbling was neutralized by the uneven bounce and hard tackles. Every second touch became a 50/50. It wasn't about style—it was about grit.
And grit, they had.
Kieron Marsh—fresh from the academy, fearless—was everywhere. Interceptions. Blocks. Talking, pointing, dragging the midfield together. He didn't play like a star. He played like a player who wanted it.
The game remained scrappy. Max Simons, muscling against two defenders, barely had space to turn. Tom Whitehall tried threading through balls, but the lines never held. It was the kind of match where you just had to grind.
Then came the moment.
In the 78th minute, a long clearance from McCulloch found Simons near midfield. He didn't try to control it—he flicked it instinctively over his head. Dev, who had just come back on after a knock, read it early and went charging.
One tired defender was no match.
Dev beat him, took a heavy touch into space, then squared the ball across the six-yard box.
And there was Kieron.
Late run. Cool finish.
1–0, Crawley.
The away bench erupted—Dev sliding on his knees, Kieron mobbed by teammates. But Niels didn't jump or shout. Just a clenched fist and a small nod. Inside, though? He felt it. That goal, that moment, meant more than a cup win.
Because this was earned. This was proof.
They held on. Fletcher made a solid save in the dying minutes. Reece, limping slightly, still threw himself in front of a final corner. The whistle blew.
Three points.
After the game, Niels kept it brief.
No long speech. No patting backs. Just a quiet moment with the squad in the dressing room.
"We climb one step at a time. This was one. Stay hungry."
The ride home was quieter than usual—physically drained but mentally sharper. Some players dozed off. Others stared out the window, earbuds in. Luka sat alone, thoughtful. Maybe he understood now.
That night, the office lights at Broadfield flickered past midnight. Niels was still there, typing notes, reviewing fitness stats, logging thoughts on the squad rotation. A notification blinked on his laptop.
FA Cup Round 5 Confirmed: Sunderland vs Crawley Town
Venue: Stadium of Light
Kickoff: Evening, live broadcast
He leaned back in his chair. Sunderland. A historic stadium. A giant in the eyes of League Two teams.
He didn't smile out of joy.
He smiled because he understood.
The climb wasn't over. And the wind was starting to howl again.
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