Match day started with a nervous energy that Ethan had never felt before. It wasn't the fear of a trial or the pressure of a title decider. It was something deeper and more significant. At the pre-match meal, the usual chatter gave way to a quiet, focused intensity.
In the changing room, the clean white shirts hung beneath each player's name. When Ethan put on the number 10 jersey, the Three Lions crest felt heavy on his chest. He looked at Marcus, Leo, and the other boys and saw their mixed looks of awe and determination reflected in their eyes.
Walking out of the tunnel was surreal. The pitch at the national centre was pristine. The stands held a small but vocal crowd of family, friends, and scouts. As the players lined up for the national anthems, shoulder to shoulder, Ethan scanned the crowd and spotted his mum. She stood with her hands together, her face full of pride. As the music swelled, Ethan choked up. This moment was for her as much as for him.
The first whistle blew, and the game started at a fast pace. Scotland played with fierce intensity, closing down space and tackling hard. Early in the game, Ethan got the ball and was quickly knocked down by a strong Scottish midfielder. As he rose from the ground, he understood this was a new level of challenge. This was international football.
He adjusted quickly, using his smarts to dodge the tough challenges. He began releasing the ball faster, playing one-twos with Marcus to navigate the crowded midfield. England controlled possession, but Scotland's defense remained a stubborn blue wall. The first half ended in a tense, scoreless tie.
In the second half, the game opened up. Leo came on from the bench, his energy creating problems for the tiring Scottish defenders. England pressed, searching for a chance.
In the 68th minute, the moment arrived. The ball reached Ethan about thirty yards from goal. He saw Marcus make a sharp run, pulling a defender with him and creating a bit of space. Ethan charged into it, avoiding one challenge. As the defense closed in, he quickly passed to Marcus, who laid it back into his path on the edge of the penalty area.
Time slowed down. He didn't hesitate. He hit the ball with the inside of his right foot, curling it fast towards the far post. The Scottish goalkeeper dove, his fingers stretching out, but the shot was too accurate. The ball settled into the bottom corner of the net.
The world erupted in cheers. Ethan was swarmed by his teammates, their joyful shouts ringing in his ears. He had scored on his debut. He had scored for England.
The final twenty minutes blurred into desperate defending and tired legs, but Crestwood's backline stood strong. When the final whistle blew, sealing a 1-0 victory, Ethan fell to his knees, exhausted but overwhelmed with emotion.
He joined his teammates in applauding the crowd, his eyes searching for his mum again. She was no longer calm but cheering wildly, tears of joy streaming down her face.
In the lively changing room, the coach gathered them in a circle. "That is what it means to play for this shirt!" he exclaimed. "You faced a tough opponent, you didn't panic, and you found a way to win. Be proud of that. Be very proud."
As the celebrations faded, Ethan sat on the bench, holding his muddy, grass-stained number 10 jersey. He traced his fingers over the iconic crest. The boy from Eastfield had worn the shirt, sung the anthem, and scored the winning goal. It was no longer a dream. It was a memory he would always cherish.