Chapter 116: Midfield Maestro

Chapter 116: Midfield Maestro Chapter 116: Midfield Maestro Monday, July 12, 2010 Crisp morning air hung over Broadfield Stadium, where the muddy pitch glistened beneath a pale sun breaking through Crawley’s thinning clouds. Niels arrived early, his boots crunching on the gravel path, the sharp scent of wet grass and damp earth filling his lungs. A restless energy surged through him, a fire to shape a squad that could carry the town’s dreams into the season. With the season looming, the squad needed new talent to face League One’s brutal grind. Niels clutched his notebook, its pages creased from late-night planning. Names like Paul Pogba and Luke Freeman were circled in bold red ink, each one a potential key to unlocking Crawley’s fight for the season ahead. Niels felt a sudden surge of determination as he stepped onto the pitch, fueled not by words on paper, but by the quiet confidence in his team the fierce energy of Max, the unpredictable spark of Thiago, and Dev Patel’s clever moves that kept opponents guessing. He paused at the stadium’s entrance, the faint hum of past crowds echoing in his ears. Today’s board meeting was finally a chance to secure two signings, and Niels was ready to push with everything he had. The boardroom felt cold and bare, the shiny table reflecting the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. At the head sat Mr. Hargreaves, his expression serious but not unkind, arms folded tightly, a vigilant guardian of the club’s decisions. Richard Langley leaned forward, his public-facing optimism edged with cautious hope. Emma Hayes sat beside Niels, her notes meticulously organized, her eyes burning with determination. Niels stood, his voice steady and direct. "With Luka and Baxter gone, there’s a gap in midfield. If we want to win something this season, we need new midfielders. Over the past two to three training sessions, our weakness has been clear rondos breaking down, attacks fizzling. Pogba and Freeman can fix that." He opened his notebook and looked around the table. "Have you all given this enough thought? Pogba’s vision and power could lead us, and Freeman’s creativity and set-piece skills would bring the balance we need. Both are built for the intensity of League One." Hargreaves rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his tone still cautious but less opposed. "Pogba’s injury record concerns me, but I’m willing to approve a structured contract low base salary with significant appearance bonuses. That way, we minimize our risk." Emma nodded, her voice clear and assured. "That’s a smart approach. Pogba’s camp will appreciate the incentives, and it demonstrates ambition without overstretching our budget. As for Freeman, a loan-to-buy deal keeps costs low while offering high potential." Langley gave a slight smile, his tone steady and composed. "The fans are getting impatient, but signings like these could reignite their passion. It’s time to show the town we mean business." Niels leaned in, his voice resolute. "With Pogba and Freeman, we get a midfield that can both battle hard and spark creativity. This is how we build a team that thrives, not just gets by." Hargreaves nodded slowly, his doubts beginning to fade. "Alright. Move forward with Pogba on the structured contract and push ahead with Freeman’s deal. But I expect regular updates at every stage." Niels let out a breath of relief, the board’s approval was a hard-earned victory. By midday, Emma was on the phone in her small, cluttered office papers and coffee cups scattered everywhere. Through the window, she could see the squad running light drills under Thomas’s watchful eye. She hung up, turning to Niels with a grin. "Pogba’s side agreed in principle to the appearance-based contract. Medical’s scheduled for tomorrow. They’re excited about his potential and development." Niels felt a surge of hope, picturing Pogba’s towering presence anchoring the midfield. "And Freeman?" he asked, leaning forward. Emma’s grin widened. "His agent’s on board. Gillingham’s open to a loan with an option to buy. It’s looking good." Niels nodded, his mind racing. "Send formal offers for both Pogba on a free transfer, Freeman on a loan-to-buy deal. We need to secure this before the window closes." Emma’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her focus razor-sharp as she drafted the paperwork. Niels stepped outside, the air heavy with the promise of rain. He watched the squad jog through drills, their breath visible in the cool morning air, the muddy turf churned under their boots. He pulled Thomas aside, the fitness coach’s clipboard tucked under his arm. "If Pogba and Freeman sign, can you integrate them fast?" Niels asked, his voice low but urgent. Thomas nodded, his Dutch accent clear. "We’ll tailor their conditioning programs, gradual build-up for Pogba, match-intensity sessions for Freeman. They’ll be ready." The training ground hummed in the afternoon, the squad’s energy high despite the light session. Niels gathered Nate Suton and Kieron Marsh near the touchline, the muddy turf scarred from morning drills. He looked at them, his voice firm but warm. "Don’t get comfortable. New competition’s on the way, Pogba and Freeman. Step up, or you’ll be fighting for your spot." Nate nodded, his eyes steady, a flicker of his old fire returning. "I’m ready, Boss. Bring it on." Kieron grinned, his youthful energy undaunted. "I’ll show them what I’ve got." Niels clapped their shoulders, a spark of hope rising. "Good. This season’s about earning it." He watched them jog back to the group, their strides purposeful, the challenge lighting a fire in them. As the squad left the pitch, Niels lingered, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth. He pictured Pogba’s vision linking with Max’s grit, Freeman’s creativity sparking alongside Thiago’s flair and Dev’s quick cuts. As he made his way back to the training office, the stadium lay silent, the pitch barely visible under the faint glow of the floodlights. The cool air wrapped around him as he entered the empty building, the distant echoes of cheering crowds now just a memory. The weight of expectation settled heavily on his shoulders, reminding him that the real work was only just beginning. Niels sat down, the rain tapping against the window, a steady beat echoing Crawley’s gritty heart. He opened his laptop, pulling up clips of Luka’s performances from last season. The screen glowed with Luka’s magic, passes carving through defenses, his vision turning chaos into order. Each clip was a sharp reminder of what Crawley needed to replace, a challenge that fueled Niels’s drive. He leaned back, his mind racing with possibilities. Pogba’s power and Freeman’s spark could fill the void, but the medical and negotiations were hurdles still to clear. Max’s decision to stay was a foundation, his lethal finishing and clever movement a rallying point. The potential of Pogba and Freeman in the midfield could elevate the team to new heights. The offers were out, the medical pending, but the clock was ticking in the transfer window. Niels grabbed his notebook, scribbling a note in red ink: ’Pogba and Freeman. Lock them in. Build the midfield. Win the season.’ The words were a vow, his pen steady despite the pressure. The rain fell harder, a drumbeat against the window. Niels stood, pacing to the glass, his breath fogging as he stared at the pitch, its muddy patches gleaming under the floodlights. He thought of the board Hargreaves’s cautious approval, Langley’s hopeful push, Emma’s fierce drive and knew the real fight was just beginning. The season was closing in, its battles raw and urgent. The wind tugged at his jacket as he paused outside the office, the stadium quiet behind him. He didn’t need reminders or rallying words, what drove him now was the pressure in his gut, the weight of expectation, and the flickers of fire he saw in his squad. This wasn’t about sentiment. It was about finishing what they’d started. He stepped back inside without looking up at the pitch there was no room for nostalgia now. Only decisions, deadlines, and the quiet war of building something that could finally last.