I called him over, my voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos in my heart. "Michael," I said, my eyes locked on his. "Go and win us the cup." Before he went on, I grabbed him by the shoulders.
'Michael,' I said, my voice low and intense. 'I need you to do two things. First, I need you to run at their left-back. He's on a yellow card, and our data shows his stamina is in the red. He's dead on his feet. Second, when you get to the byline, I need you to look for Connor. He'll be making the run to the near post. Every single time. Got it?'
He just nodded, that same fire in his eyes. Then I turned to another sub, a young midfielder named John-Kymani Gordon. 'John, when you go on, I need you to give this to Ryan.' I handed him a small, folded piece of paper. '
It's their penalty takers, in order. Just in case.' He nodded, his eyes wide with the responsibility. It was a small thing, a tiny detail, but in a final, the small things are everything.
