Touchline Rebirth: From Game To Glory-Chapter 222: Europa League Draw

Chapter 222: Europa League Draw

December 10th, 2010

The canteen at the Crawley training ground was unusually crowded for a Friday morning.

Normally, players drifted in and out in small groups. Some would be in the physio room, others lifting in the gym, a few still half-asleep over breakfast.

But it wasn’t like that today.

Every chair was taken. The rest of the squad stood along the walls or perched on tables, arms folded, coffee cups forgotten in their hands. Even the staff had squeezed in near the doorway.

All eyes were fixed on the large flat-screen TV mounted near the window.

The UEFA Europa League Round of 16 draw was about to begin.

On the screen, the familiar Europa League theme played softly as the camera panned across a polished stage in Nyon along with glass bowls and officials.

"Alright, calm down, calm down!" Max called out, trying to restore some order as voices overlapped across the room.

The excitement was hard to hide.

Even the usually quiet players were talking over one another.

"Give us Barcelona!" Thiago said with a grin swinging his legs. "I just want to see what it’s like at the Camp Nou."

A few players chuckled.

Max rolled his eyes, a chorus of laughter erupting from the senior players. "Are you dreaming, Thiago? Barcelona plays in the Champions League. You have to wait until we win this trophy and qualify for the big one before you get your wish."

Thiago shrugged. "Alright then. Let’s win this first."

The laughter continued, but everyone’s eyes slowly drifted back to the screen.

"Let the boy dream, Max," Nate Sutton said with a grin, nudging Thiago. "Though I’d like to take a trip to Portugal. Nice weather and good pitches. Sporting or Porto wouldn’t be bad."

"Porto’s dangerous," Kieron Marsh replied, more serious now. "They just dropped out of the Champions League. They’ll want to win this."

Even Paul Pogba, usually the calmest in the room gave a small smirk. "In Europe, there are no easy games. But some are more... enjoyable than others."

The room quieted a little after that.

The TV camera panned across the velvet-lined stage in Nyon, Switzerland. The officials began the familiar routine of opening the glass bowls.

The first ball was lifted.

"Athletic Bilbao," the announcer read.

A low murmur moved through the room.

Another ball was opened.

"Against... Sporting CP."

A few whistles followed.

"Good tie," Nate muttered. "That’ll be a interesting game."

But no one was really focused on Bilbao or Sporting.

Crawley’s ball was still in the bowl.

And with every name called, the room grew a little quieter.

The room fell silent as the balls were swirled again. The tension was almost physical now.

These weren’t just names on a screen anymore. They were flights across Europe. Another step in a journey that had already made no sense in the best possible way.

"Villarreal CF... against... Bayer Leverkusen."

A few players exhaled quietly. "Big tie," someone muttered near the back.

Only a handful of teams remained in the bowl and Crawley Town was still one of them.

The official reached into the bowl again.

Niels stood at the back of the room, his face calm and unreadable.

He noticed Dev gripping the edge of his chair.

Dev wasn’t thinking about contracts or Valencia now. He was thinking about European nights. The stage to prove himself.

On the screen, the official reached into the bowl and he unfolded the slip of paper and looked up.

"Crawley Town."

A sharp intake of breath swept through the canteen.

For a split second, no one moved. The final ball was drawn and for them it seemed slow and deliberate.

"going against... FC Basel."

For a split second, there was silence.

Then a mixture of cheers and relieved sighs broke out.

"Switzerland!" Callum Haines shouted. "We can handle Switzerland!"

"Don’t get cocky," Max warned, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "They’re good. They knocked out big teams to get here. The kind of team that punishes you if you think they’re easy to handle"

Pogba leaned toward Dev. "I’ve seen their youth setup. They’re very disciplined. This will be a tactical match, not a brawl."

Dev’s eyes lit up, a mixture of nerves and excitement. "We actually get to play them?" he whispered to Pogba.

Pogba gave a small grin. "Yeah. And it’s exactly the kind of test that makes you better. Europe isn’t about easy nights."

Niels didn’t join the conversation. His mind was elsewhere imagining St. Jakob-Park, thinking about Basel’s style and experience in European matches.

They weren’t flashy as Porto or Benifica, but that team deserved respect, one that could spot and punish any weakness.

Thiago leaned back on the table, still grinning. "Switzerland... not too bad. I can deal with that."

Max shook his head and said with a smile, "Don’t get too overconfident, kid."

Europe wasn’t about easy nights but this was exactly the challenge they had been waiting for.

The moment the draw concluded, the calmness at the training ground evaporated.

Reporters and camera crews, who had been waiting at the gates, surged into the media pen.

Niels stepped out first towards the reporters.

"Niels! What are your thoughts on FC Basel? Are you intimidated by their Champions League experience?" a reporter from the Daily Mail called.

Niels didn’t flinch and his voice was steady, "Intimidated? No. Respectful? Absolutely. Basel is a club with a strong European background. But we’ve shown in Florence and against Leverkusen that we aren’t just here to take part. We’re here to compete. We’ll do our homework, and we’ll be ready."

The cameras clicked as he finished.

Before Niels could step away, another reporter piped up, raising her microphone. "And what about Dev Patel? There’s been talk of a move to Valencia, does this draw change anything for him?"

"Dev is focused on Crawley," Niels said evenly, his tone leaving no room for speculation. "We’ve got a big challenge ahead in Basel, and that’s where his attention is. Transfer talk is for another day. Right now, he’s part of this team, and that’s what matters."

Behind him, the players emerged. Dev was dodging questions about his future focusing entirely on the draw. "We can beat them," he told a Sky Sports reporter. "We have the heart and the system. We’re looking forward to the away leg."

Nate and Thiago walked past the press line together, wide-eyed but trying to look professional.

They were two kids from League One who were now preparing for a trip to the heart of Europe.

Back at the training ground, the team gathered in the meeting room. Niels went over the plan for Basel, pointing out key threats and how they would respond. Players asked a few questions, shared thoughts, and listened carefully. The atmosphere was focused but calm, each person understanding the task ahead.

After a short debrief, they headed out. Some grabbed their bags quietly, others chatted in low tones.

Slowly, the training ground emptied and the players went home, minds already on the upcoming trip and the challenge waiting in Basel.

That night, long after the players had gone home, Niels’ office light stayed on. His laptop played Basel’s recent matches on repeat. He studied their midfield moves and organized defense.

They were good and dangerous. But when he paused on a gap in their defense, a small smile appeared.

"If we can exploit that, we can beat them," he whispered to the empty room.

The European adventure was no longer just a dream. The road to the final went through Switzerland.

Niels leaned back, letting himself enjoy the quiet.

The players could celebrate the draw, they had earned it.

But for him, there was no time to relax.

Before the round of 16, there were league games to plan for, and FA Cup match ahead, and many details to handle. The European adventure was exciting, but the work never stopped.

{A/N: I know there was originally one group stage match left, but since Crawley had already qualified, I decided to skip it to keep the story moving. Hope you understand!]