Saturday, May 29th. 2:45 PM. Wembley Stadium.
The Championship Playoff Final.
West Bromwich Albion vs. Coventry City.
The heat was rising inside the stadium. Ninety thousand seats were filled, half Sky Blue and half Navy and White. The "Richest Game in Football" was just fifteen minutes away.
High up in Block 122, the "Crestwood Ultras" took their seats.
Mason Turner sat on the aisle, trying to stay still, but his legs bounced nervously. Tomorrow, he would be on that turf. Today, he was just a fan.
Next to him was Callum Reid, with a bucket hat pulled low.
Then there was Gary Matthews, clutching a program tightly until it nearly fell apart.
And next to Gary sat Mia, wearing a vintage West Brom shirt three sizes too big, her hair tied back with a blue ribbon.
"The pitch looks huge," Callum said, his voice tense. "It's unreasonably big. How are we supposed to run on that tomorrow?"
"Don't think about tomorrow," Mason said gently. "Look at the warm-up. Look at Eth."
Down on the pristine grass, Ethan Matthews was warming up. He looked small against the giant arch above.
He paused stretching and looked up at Block 122. He couldn't see them—just dots in a crowd—but he raised a hand anyway.
Mia stood up and waved back enthusiastically.
"He knows," she said. "He knows we're here."
3:00 PM. Kickoff.
The noise was overwhelming. Flames erupted into the air as the teams lined up.
Ethan stood beside Liam Thorne as the anthem played, God Save the King.
Ethan closed his eyes, remembering Riverton, Gateshead, the ice, the mud, the disappointment.
It all led to this.
The whistle blew.
The first twenty minutes were a tense chess match. Coventry, managed by Mark Robins, played with discipline. They set a mid-block and denied Ethan space to turn.
Whenever he got the ball, two sky-blue shirts surrounded him.
"They're suffocating him," Mason said, leaning forward. "He needs to drop deeper and draw them out."
28th Minute.
Coventry scored first.
A mistake by West Brom's right-back, a slip on the lush Wembley grass.
Coventry winger Wayne Harris seized the opportunity. He drove to the byline and cut it back.
The striker was there.
The net bulged.
GOAL.
West Brom 0 - 1 Coventry.
The Coventry end erupted. A wave of blue noise swept over the stadium.
On the pitch, heads dropped, haunted by last season's failure.
Ethan wouldn't let them sulk. He ran to the net, grabbed the ball, and sprinted back to the center circle.
"Wake up!" he yelled, shoving the ball into Mitch Evans' chest. "We haven't started yet!"
"That's it," Gary said quietly, looking pale. "Don't let them hide, son."
Halftime.
West Brom 0 - 1 Coventry.
The atmosphere in Block 122 was tense.
"They're playing scared," Deano, who came with the boys, said, biting his nails. "They look terrified of losing."
"Ethan isn't," Mia replied firmly. "Look at his body language. He's angry. Angry Ethan is the best Ethan."
55th Minute.
West Brom came out strong for the second half. Vance had replaced a defender with an extra attacker. It was all or nothing.
Ethan took control. He stopped playing it safe. He engaged "Riverton Mode."
He received the ball at center circle. Two Coventry midfielders pressed him.
Ethan didn't pass. He drove through them.
He bounced one off his shoulder and nutmegged the other.
He carried the ball 40 yards. The Coventry defense backed off, scared of fouling him.
Ethan spotted Jaden Kalu making a run on the right.
Instead of passing to his feet, he sent it into space.
Kalu reached it and crossed it first time.
Remi Cole launched himself at the back post.
A diving header.
GOAL.
West Brom 1 - 1 Coventry.
The West Brom end erupted.
In the stands, Callum grabbed Mason and shook him. "That was the run! That was the drive! He opened the sea!"
88th Minute.
The game was painfully close. Extra time was looming. Legs were cramping all over the pitch.
Coventry sat deep, playing for penalties.
Ethan was exhausted. His socks were rolled down, revealing his shin pads.
The String Don't Break.
West Brom had a throw-in deep in Coventry's territory.
Liam Thorne took it quickly, throwing it to Ethan.
Ethan turned, 25 yards out.
"SHOOT!" the crowd screamed.
But the angle wasn't right; too many bodies blocked him.
Ethan saw something no one else did.
He noticed Mitch Evans making a sluggish run into the box, acting as a decoy.
Ethan faked a shot. The Coventry defense flinched.
Instead of shooting, he chipped a delicate ball over the defenders.
It wasn't for Evans.
It was for Volkan Demir, the veteran who had ghosted in at the back post.
Volkan didn't smash it. He cushioned a volley back across the goal.
It hit a Coventry defender's knee, rolling toward the line.
The keeper scrambled.
The ball rolled... and rolled...
And crossed the line.
GOAL.
West Brom 2 - 1 Coventry.
The roar wasn't loud; it was a sonic boom.
Ethan didn't run to Volkan. He collapsed to his knees, arms wide, looking at the sky.
The entire team piled on top of him.
In Block 122, chaos erupted.
Gary was hugging a stranger.
Mia was crying, gripping the railing.
Mason and Callum were high-fiving so hard they might have bruised their hands.
"He did it," Mason shouted over the noise. "The madman actually did it!"
90th Minute + 6.
The referee checked his watch.
Coventry launched one last long ball.
Ethan was back in his box. He leapt above the towering players and headed it clear.
Whistle. Whistle. Whistle.
FULL TIME.
West Bromwich Albion are Promoted to the Premier League.
The Celebration.
"Hi Ho Silver Lining" blared over the speakers. Confetti cannons fired silver and blue streamers into the air. Ethan was on the pitch, wearing a "PROMOTION WINNERS" t-shirt over his kit. He had a scarf tied around his head.
He scanned the stands. He saw them. Block 122. He ran over. He climbed the advertising hoarding.
Security tried to stop him. "Let him go!" a steward shouted. "He's the hero!"
Ethan reached up. Gary leaned over the railing, sobbing. Ethan grabbed his dad's hand. "We're back, Dad! We're back!"
Then he saw Mia. She was standing next to Callum, clutching his arm tightly. Ethan pulled himself up the concrete wall, hanging by one arm. Mia leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck in a massive, sisterly hug.
"You were amazing!" she screamed over the noise. "I thought my heart was going to stop!"
"Tell Callum to breathe!" Ethan laughed, dropping back down to the turf.
He looked at Callum and Mason. They weren't crying. They were staring at him with a look of intense, burning focus.
"Congratulations," Mason said, gripping Ethan's forearm. "Enjoy tonight."
Callum pulled Mia closer, his arm around her waist, but his eyes were locked on Ethan. "Tonight is yours," Callum said. "Get drunk. Sleep in the trophy."
Ethan looked at them. He saw the fire in their eyes. They were happy for him, yes. But the jealousy—the good kind, the competitive kind—was fueling them.
"I'll be in the stands tomorrow," Ethan promised. "Same seats. Don't let me down."
"We won't," Mason said.
Ethan ran back to his team to lift the trophy. Mason watched him go. He turned to Callum and Mia. "He's done his part," Mason said. "Now we finish the pact."
Callum nodded, looking at the empty half of the stadium where the Crestwood fans would sit tomorrow. "Tomorrow," Callum said. "We go to war."