Chapter 107: A Quiet Return

Chapter 107: A Quiet Return Chapter 107: A Quiet Return Thursday, July 1, 2010 When Niels got off the plane at Gatwick Airport, the damp English air felt familiar. The sounds of Rotterdam’s canals slowly disappeared from his mind. He thought about everything he had learned on his trip: Milan’s strong tactics, Genoa’s calm approach, Utrecht’s long-term vision, and Eindhoven’s youthful energy. At the same time, he remembered Emma’s message about Levante’s bold offer for Max, Parma chasing Luka, and Baxter going back to Everton. Niels’s old backpack hung over one shoulder, feeling heavy not from weight but from meaning. Inside were his notebook and a book about football psychology. The Gatwick terminal was busy with travelers, families with suitcases and businessmen talking on phones but Niels moved quietly through the crowd. No press, no fans, nothing to mark his return. This was exactly how he wanted it: a quiet return to Crawley, to Broadfield’s muddy fields, where the real work of the season would begin, and where the story he was creating with his players would come to life. Niels got on a train from Gatwick to West Sussex. The train shook as it moved through the green Sussex countryside under a cloudy July sky that looked like rain. He leaned against the window, his reflection faint as the fields and church spires blurred past. Niels’s mind replayed the lessons from his trip like highlights: Milan’s Inter, playing like careful chess moves; Genoa’s calm strength, where Matteo’s advice to enjoy the process had grounded him; Utrecht’s seminar, where Pieter talked about trust and the club’s true spirit; and Eindhoven’s youth academy, where a fearless 16-year-old midfielder reminded him of the pure joy of football. These weren’t just ideas, they were the plan for Crawley’s future. A team that wouldn’t just survive in League One but would lead it, with a strong culture that could handle big offers from La Liga and Serie A. The note in his pocket felt like a heartbeat, connecting him to Thiago’s smile on a Brazilian beach, Max’s fiery Spanish sunset, Luka’s quiet Croatian field, and the town that had picked him instead of bigger names. When Niels arrived, Crawley’s station was empty except for a pigeon pecking at crumbs on the cracked platform. He walked through the familiar streets, his boots crunching on gravel, heading toward Broadfield Stadium. The town came alive around him, chip shops with flickering neon signs, rows of red-brick houses, and laughter from a nearby pub. Emma’s call stayed in his mind: Max, the captain, wanted by Levante for La Liga; Luka, the playmaker, watched by Parma from Serie A; and Baxter, the team’s energy, returning to Everton. The transfer window was already in its second month, no longer a distant game but a battlefield threatening Crawley’s future. Still, Niels felt no fear only strong determination, with the fire from Milan, Genoa, Utrecht, and Eindhoven burning even brighter. He imagined Broadfield’s stands full of cheering fans, Thiago dazzling defenders with skill, Max fighting hard up front, and Luka controlling the midfield with smart plays. The challenges were tough, but they were chances to prove Crawley’s heart and show that a small club could compete with the giants. Broadfield Stadium stood ahead, its small stands and floodlights shining through the gray mist like a beacon. The gates were locked and the pitch was quiet, but Niels could almost hear past games the crowd cheering, boots pounding the muddy field, and Max’s Wembley goal that filled the town with pride. He slipped in through a side door, its familiar creak greeting him like an old friend. Walking through the corridors, he smelled damp grass and liniment. His office a small, messy room with a window facing the pitch felt like home. On his desk, among match programs and a chipped mug, was a note in Emma’s bold handwriting: ’Welcome back, Coach.’ A smile spread across Niels’s face, warmth filling his chest. The note was simple but full of trust, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. He put down his backpack, the floor creaking beneath it, and opened his notebook, filled with lessons from his journey: Milan’s discipline, Genoa’s balance, Utrecht’s philosophy, and Eindhoven’s energy. He pulled out a section labeled "Future Stars," a scouting list he’d been building since Eindhoven, and spread it across the desk like a map to Crawley’s future. The names on the list caught his eye, each a chance to fill the gap left by Baxter and strengthen the team against offers from Levante and Parma: Ross Barkley: Everton youth, a creative player who could start attacksConor Coady: Liverpool U18 captain, a natural leader with strength and heartWilfried Zaha: Palace academy winger, fast and able to break defensesNick Powell: Crewe’s talented playmaker who made amazing playsNathaniel Clyne: promising right-back, quick and tough defenderJames Tarkowski: Oldham centre-back, tall and eager to prove himselfPaul Pogba: Manchester United U18, a huge talent with power and vision, though getting him was almost impossible Next to a few players’ names, Niels had written: "Unlikely to buy. Maybe possible on loan. Offer exposure + chance to play in Europa League." These notes showed a bold plan, a vision of Crawley as a place where young stars could grow and a club that dared to dream of European nights. He took a red pen and carefully circled three names: Barkley, Coady, and Pogba. These were his top loan targets players who could replace Baxter, add energy to the midfield, and grow with Crawley’s journey. Barkley’s creativity could bring a fresh attacking style, Coady’s leadership could steady the team under pressure, and Pogba though a long shot could change everything with his powerful presence, showing the kind of legacy Niels wanted. The transfer window felt like a storm, Levante pushing hard for Max, Parma chasing Luka, and Baxter leaving a gap in midfield. But Niels felt strong and ready, his heart racing with the excitement of the challenge. These players weren’t just replacements, they were the future. Young talents who could lead Crawley in League One and beyond, and fill Broadfield’s stands with proud fans. He leaned back in his chair, surrounded by familiar things, old match programs piled in a corner, a photo from last season’s FA Cup run on the wall, and a chipped mug that held many late-night coffees. Emma’s voice echoed in his mind: "They’ll want answers soon." The clock was ticking, and the transfer window was a tough game, but Niels wasn’t afraid. He had a plan, a vision, and a team that believed in him. He pictured Max, wearing his captain’s armband, turning down La Liga to stay and fight for Crawley. He saw Luka, quietly controlling the game, choosing Broadfield over Serie A’s glamour. And he imagined a new midfielder Barkley, Coady, or even Pogba joining the team, hungry and ready like Thiago’s skill, Max’s grit, and Luka’s focus. The challenges were big, but they fueled the fire he’d started across Europe. Outside, the pitch was quiet under a gray sky, muddy spots ready for the season’s first games, floodlights casting long shadows. Niels walked to the window, his breath fogging the glass as he looked at the empty stands. He could almost hear Broadfield’s roar and feel the note in his pocket. He saw Thiago’s quick runs, Max’s powerful shots, and Luka’s steady play. The lessons from Milan, Genoa, Utrecht, and Eindhoven weren’t just notes anymore, they were Crawley’s foundation. He was ready to fight to keep Max and Luka, scout players like Barkley and Coady, and build a team that believed in their story. The transfer window was a battle, but to Niels, it was a chance to show Crawley’s heart and prove what a small club with big dreams could do. He went back to his desk, the note ’Welcome back, Coach’ shining in his mind. He started drawing formations, his pen moving with purpose: a 4-3-3 with a strong midfielder to replace Baxter, a high press like Milan’s, and a spot for a young star like Barkley or Coady to bring Thiago’s skill. The drama of Levante’s offer, Parma’s pursuit, Baxter’s exit, they were tests, not defeats, chances to forge a stronger Crawley. The season was almost here, its battles raw and real, but Niels was ready, his heart pounding with the thrill of what lay ahead. He closed his notebook as rain softly started outside, a familiar sound like Broadfield’s muddy pitch. Crawley’s story built on heart, trust, and love for the game was ready to shine brighter than ever. This legacy would reach beyond League One, written on the field where the town’s belief would come alive.