Touchline Rebirth: From Game To Glory-Chapter 218: Rising Pressure

Chapter 218: Rising Pressure

Dev woke up before his alarm. He lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling remembering his fathers word from the call yesterday.

His phone was on the bedside table. He didn’t need to check it as he already knew that there were probably few missed calls, messages, news with his name next to a number that didn’t feel real.

He took a slow breath and sat up.

For most players in League One, that kind of money would change everything. For him, it just felt like pressure.

He went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

His dad’s voice from last night stayed in his head.

’Leave when you’re ready.

Not for the money.

Not because people are talking.

Not because you feel pushed.’

Dev rubbed his face and looked at his hands.

He learned to play on the concrete behind his grandfather’s shop. His hands shook when he signed his first academy contract. He held the Crawley shirt tight before his first game.

His hands were steady now but his mind wasn’t.

He stood there for a moment, then walked back into the bedroom and picked up his phone.

There was dozens of notifications.

He didn’t open them.

Instead, he turned the phone face down and got dressed.

Training was in a few hours. That was something he could control.

In the car, the radio was already talking about him and Valencia’s offer.

He switched it off and focused on the road ahead.

As he reached the training ground, he spotted a few reporters standing near the entrance. Cameras were already out. One of them noticed his car and stepped forward.

Dev kept his eyes on the gate.

He didn’t slow down. He didn’t roll the window down. He didn’t even look their way.

The security guard opened the gate, and he drove straight into the parking lot.

Only when the gate closed behind him did he let out a quiet breath.

At least in here, it was still about football.

He got out of the car and grabbed his bag from the back seat.

On his way inside, he glanced toward the main building. Through the glass, he could see Niels in his office already at his desk.

He pushed the door open and walked toward the locker room. A few players were already there.

Max was taping his wrists.

Thiago was scrolling through his phone.

Korey sat on the bench, pulling on his socks.

The room went a little quieter when Dev stepped in.

Dev gave a small nod. "Morning."

"Morning," Max replied straight away, like nothing was different.

Dev walked to his spot, hung up his jacket, and started getting changed.

As Dev pulled on his boots, the noise in the room slowly grew.

Korey said something about Max’s music choice in the gym.

Thiago laughed and threw a sock at him.

Max shook his head. "You’re jealous because I’ve got good taste."

A few more players walked in, still half asleep, carrying bags and coffee cups. The room started to feel normal again. Conversations mixed together. Someone complained about the cold. Someone else was already talking about the weekend match.

The last of the players came in, and a moment later the door opened again.

Niels stood there.

"Alright, lads," he said calmly. "Come to the video room."

The talking died down quickly.

The players followed him down the hallway toward the video room.

As they reached the video room felt colder than the locker room.

The lights were dim, and the projector cast a pale glow on the squad.

On the screen, Carlisle United moved in a rigid 4-4-2, compact and disciplined.

Niels paused the video when Carlisle’s defenders moved back.

"Look here," he said. "They stay close together in two lines of four players. They make it hard to go through the middle. They want us to play on the sides and cross the ball. Don’t try to force it in the middle."

He played the clip again, showing what happened when a player tried to go through the center and lost the ball.

"You need to be patient," Niels continued. "Pass the ball quickly and when a space opens, attack it, it doesn’t matter if it miss."

He paused again and pointed to a spot just outside the box. "Dev, this is where you’ll find space. You’ll only get one or two touches. Be ready and make it count."

Dev nodded. Everyone was paying attention. For the next twenty minutes, they just watched and learned.

Niels held the remote and paused the video as Carlisle’s defenders dropped back.

"Look at how close they are," he said. "They want to slow the game down. They stay tight, defend crosses carefully, and hope you get frustrated. If you try to force the ball through the middle, you’re helping them."

He rewound the clip, showing a Carlisle full-back struggling to turn after a quick change of direction.

"Their full-backs are strong, but slow to turn. We don’t need to go straight at them. We go around and then back inside. Move the ball from side to side. Be patient. That’s the only way to break them down."

Niels looked at Kieron Marsh. "Kieron, you are the anchor," he said. "Stay calm and steady. Don’t take risky passes. If you lose the ball, they will attack us fast."

Then he looked at Dev. Dev sat differently today, he didn’t look nervous like last night. He looked calm and ready.

"Dev," Niels said, speaking slowly. "You don’t have to win the game in one pass or show fancy tricks. You don’t need to show off. Just keep the ball moving and try to control pace of the game."

One of the analysts cleared his throat and spoke into his microphone.

"Just so you know, boss. We’ve had more official requests for the weekend. Looks like there will be a lot of scouts in the stands."

The room stayed quiet. No one looked at Dev and Dev didn’t look at anyone.

Niels raised his hand slightly.

"Alright," he said. "We don’t need to think too much about that. Just play like you always do and focus on the win."

He paused, letting it sink in.

"Okay, that’s it for the video. Let’s head to the training ground."

The players got up and followed him out of the room, ready to put the plan into practice.

The training session was short but intense. They ran through rondos and quick passing drills to practice breaking down a mid-block defense.

Kieron worked hard. He shouted instructions from his deeper position and moved like a first-team player. But during a drill, he overhit a long, sixty-yard pass that flew into the bushes.

"Keep it simple!" Max Simons called from the center. It wasn’t an insult. Max was just making sure everyone stayed focused and didn’t let the excitement make them sloppy.

Meanwhile Dev was sharp and calm. He moved with confidence almost like he knew exactly what to do. The hesitation he had felt since the Fiorentina match was gone.

He played freely, like deciding to follow his heart had lifted a weight off him. Every touch counted, and he slipped between defenders with ease.

During a water break, Dev stood alone near the touchline and took a long drink from his bottle. Thiago came over, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"You good?" Thiago asked quietly, 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Dev capped his bottle and looked out at the pitch.

"Yeah," he said. "I’m all good, Thiago."

The training session ended soon after. Players were breathing hard and wiping sweat from their faces, but the energy in the squad was high.

Niels blew his whistle and called everyone over.

"Alright, that’s enough for today," he said. "Tomorrow is a rest day. Don’t overwork yourselves. You need to be ready and fresh for the match."

The players nodded, gathering their things. Some headed straight for the showers, while others stretched on the grass, still buzzing from the sharp session.

The next day...

At his apartment, Dev sat on the sofa with his laptop. He wasn’t watching highlights or viral clips. He was watching himself play ten-minute clips of him defending or passing the ball.

He paused a moment from the Florence game where he had taken a shot instead of passing. He studied it carefully, trying to see what he could do better.

His phone lit up on the table.

Messages kept coming: "£27M man."

"Too big for League One?"

"Valencia’s future star?"

Dev looked at it for a moment, then turned it down.

Across town, Kieron Marsh sat in his flat with a bag of ice on his knee. On the TV, old match clips of Jamal Osei were playing. He watched how Jamal used his body to protect the ball and how he didn’t chase lost causes if it left a gap in the defense.

Later that night, Niels sat in the office at the training ground. The blue light from his monitor lit his face. He was watching a clip of Dev receiving the ball between the lines. He paused it at the exact moment Dev turned.

Niels leaned back and rubbed his temples. He stared at the frozen image of the boy who carried the club’s future and possibly his own reputation. ’Was he coaching a future star for Crawley, or just preparing a valuable player who would soon leave for Spain?’

All Niels could do right now was go with the flow and hope for the best.

He had to use the players the right way, get the most out of them, and focus on winning every upcoming game.

That was all he could control.