Four days to kickoff.
Mumbai United vs. Bengaluru FC.
A top-of-the-table clash.
Televised. Prime time. High pressure.
And for Karan Sharma, it could mean everything.
---
Day One – Tactical Briefing
The squad filed into the dim, soundproof analysis room inside the Mumbai United training center. Walls covered with whiteboards and tactical sheets. The air was heavy with focus. No one spoke.
The projector flickered on, casting blue light onto the screen.
Coach Miguel Fernandes stood still for a moment, silhouetted in front of a paused clip of Bengaluru FC in possession. The midfield triangle of their double pivot glowed under his laser pointer.
"Watch their shape," he said, voice calm but commanding. "They press high. Their midfielders are intelligent, disciplined. But number 23—right fullback—he overcommits. He bombs forward and leaves gaps behind."
He clicked. The clip rolled. A Bengaluru turnover. A counterattack down that very channel.
"Right there," Coach said, freezing the frame. "That's chaos. That's opportunity. If we exploit that space, we dictate the rhythm."
He turned. His gaze scanned the players like a spotlight sweeping across a stage. Then it stopped.
"Karan."
Karan's heart skipped. He sat straighter in his chair, pen clenched.
"If you play," Coach said, slowly, "that's where you make your mark. That space behind their line is fire. Move through it, and you burn them. Freeze in it, and they'll bury you."
The silence after those words was louder than the projector hum.
If you play.
Three words.
Three bullets straight to the chest.
Karan nodded quietly, trying to look composed.
Inside, a storm churned.
---
Day Two – Intrasquad Match
Grey clouds blanketed the sky. The training pitch shimmered with dew and pressure.
Karan zipped up his black-and-blue Mumbai United jersey, his breath fogging in the chilly air. This wasn't just training. It felt like a silent test.
To his surprise, his name was called.
Starting eleven.
Midfield: Aditya Rao. Ruben Fernandes. Karan Sharma.
This was it.
The scrimmage began at full tilt. No time to settle. No breathing room.
Every pass felt like a blade.
Within the first ten minutes, Karan misplaced two passes—bad ones. One nearly led to a breakaway.
He felt it—the eyes, the judgment, the tension.
Then Ruben stormed over, fire in his voice.
"If you play scared, you don't belong here."
Karan didn't answer. His lungs burned. His hands trembled.
Reset. Simplify. Adapt. Fight.
He stopped trying to be clever. He started playing to survive.
Next touch: sharp pass. Move. Receive.
One-two with Aditya.
Drop deep. Scan. Switch play with a perfect diagonal ball that arced across the pitch like a bowstring snapping.
Something changed.
The tempo didn't slow—but now he was part of it. Not drowning—swimming.
In the second half, Karan came alive.
He broke lines with crisp passes.
He won back possession with gritty tackles.
He shouted. Directed. Pressed.
Even Coach Fernandes looked up from his notepad.
And near the sideline, Assistant Coach Ravi Mehra—arms folded, face unreadable—gave a single, subtle nod.
Karan saw it.
He'd earned a moment of belief.
---
Day Three – The Squad List
The locker room buzzed with tension.
Some players were tapping their feet. Others stared holes into the floor.
Karan sat at the back, back straight, heart climbing into his throat.
Coach walked in, clipboard in hand.
The list went up on the screen.
"Starting midfielders: Aditya Rao. Ruben Fernandes. Rajan Arora."
No surprises. The engine room of the team.
Coach paused. Then:
"Bench midfielders: Faizal Rahman. Karan Sharma."
For half a second, Karan didn't believe it.
Then the words settled.
He made it.
The 18-man squad. Matchday bench. His name on the sheet. His jersey hung in the locker.
Sharma 36.
Aditya leaned over, a knowing grin on his face.
"Earned it, Sharma. Don't blink when the moment comes."
Karan didn't smile. He just nodded.
His heart was hammering.
His dream was no longer distant. It had a date.
---
Matchday – Mumbai United vs Bengaluru FC
20,000 fans.
TV crews.
Camera drones humming above the turf.
Banners waving. Scarves twirling. Anthems echoing.
The stadium felt like a live beast—roaring, breathing, pulsing.
Karan stood in the tunnel, eyes fixed on the floodlit grass ahead.
The smell of cut grass.
The thud of boots on concrete.
The rising chant of supporters.
He soaked it in.
It wasn't just a match.
It was a portal.
He followed the starting XI onto the pitch for warm-ups.
The club anthem rang out, bouncing off the upper tiers.
His eyes scanned the crowd—and for a moment, he saw his younger self, barefoot in a narrow street, juggling a ball made of socks.
This was the world he had imagined for years.
Now, he was in it.
---
Inside the Locker Room
Coach Fernandes paced slowly.
He faced the starting XI first.
"You've trained. You've studied. Now you execute. Today, you protect the badge—and each other."
Then he turned to the bench.
Karan straightened.
"If your number's called," Coach said, "you don't step in—you step up. Football doesn't wait. Neither do we."
The room stayed still for a moment.
Then, the team huddled.
One last breath.
It was time.
---
Kickoff
The whistle blew.
Mumbai United came out like fire.
Aditya and Ruben moved like generals.
The press was aggressive. The ball zipped.
Bengaluru FC pushed back—physical, calculated, relentless.
The midfield became a minefield of sliding tackles, sharp turns, and lung-busting runs.
On the bench, Karan watched with laser focus.
He wasn't nervous anymore.
He was ready.
---
60th Minute
A crunching tackle.
Rajan stayed down.
Grimace. Hands to his hamstring.
The physio sprinted over.
Coach Fernandes looked back—then locked eyes with Karan.
"Sharma—warm up."
Karan shot to his feet.
Pulled off his training bib.
Jogged down the touchline, the roar of 20,000 fans crashing around him like a tidal wave.
He didn't hear his name being chanted.
He didn't hear the whistle.
He only heard his heart—and a voice in his head.
"If you play."
This was it.
His debut.
His dream.
His fire.
He was about to step into the storm.