Chapter 139: The Journey to the BayArena

Chapter 139: The Journey to the BayArena Chapter 139: The Journey to the BayArena The morning after the win against Walsall, a quiet, almost respectful calm hung over the Crawley training ground. The usual post-match buzz, cheers, jokes, and playful banter was missing. The win had been tough, earned through sheer determination, but the toll it took was written on every sore muscle and tired face. Jamal Osei sat on the sidelines with ice on his knee, frustration showing where calm usually lived. Around him, the players moved slowly, worn out, their thoughts already turning to something bigger than League One. Niels stood at the edge of the pitch, watching his tired squad ease through a light recovery session. But his thoughts were far away in the sleek, modern BayArena. The Europa League. It still felt unreal. A dream born from their incredible FA Cup run. But now, that dream was about to collide with a harsh reality. The large video screen by the sideline, normally used for tactics and opponent breakdowns, now lit up with highlights of Bayer Leverkusen. The clips were unforgiving with rapid counter-attacks, pinpoint finishing, relentless pressing, and a level of physicality that made Walsall seem like a casual Sunday league side. The players watched quietly, their faces a mix of awe, nervousness, and the growing awareness of just how big the gap was. Niels let the video play out, giving the reality time to sink in. Then he shut off the screen. "This isn’t League One," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "They’re quicker, stronger, more organized than anything you’ve come up against. Every player knows his job. Every pass is timed to perfection. They don’t make mistakes." He paused, looking each player in the eye. "But they’re not unbeatable. And this isn’t just about one match. This is about showing the world what Crawley Town is really made of. We’ve already faced Chelsea in an FA Cup final last season, don’t forget that. That wasn’t luck. That was us. And now we’re here because we earned it. We belong in this competition, no matter what anyone says." The most urgent problem was the hole Jamal’s injury had left in midfield, although Pogba and Keiron were still there but it was clear things wouldn’t be the same without Jamal. He was the anchor, the one who brought balance and control, reading the game like few could. Pogba had the presence, Keiron the energy, but neither offered Jamal’s calm precision. Without him, it wasn’t total chaos but it felt like steering through a storm with a less experienced hand at the helm. The ship could still move, still fight the waves, but the stability, the calm confidence Jamal brought, was gone. Niels called over his midfield trio Kieron Marsh, Paul Pogba, and Tom Whitehall. "With Jamal out, everything changes," he said, drawing patterns on the turf with his boot. "Kieron, your energy and pressing are going to be crucial. You’ll need to cover more ground than ever, be our first line of defense, and fight for every second ball. You’ll be running until your lungs give out." Kieron gave a sharp nod, eyes burning with determination. "Paul," Niels continued, turning to the young prodigy, "this is your stage. Your vision is what will win us this match. We need you to dictate the tempo, to pick out passes that no one else sees, to break their lines with your distribution. You have the talent to control this game." Pogba’s jaw tightened, a flicker of intense focus in his gaze. He knew the weight of expectation on his shoulders, but also the immense opportunity. "And Tom, you’re the key link," Niels continued. "We need your box-to-box energy to break up their play, win the ball back, and push us forward. You’ll be the bridge between defense and attack, always a threat." Tom, known for his hard work, just nodded ready to give it everything. Niels then spoke to the whole team. "We’re not going to try to outplay Leverkusen at their own game. We respect their quality, but we don’t fear them. We stick to our style but smarter. We stay compact, block their space in the middle, and when we win the ball, we move fast. Every counter-attack has to be sharp. Every chance must count." The training sessions that came next were the toughest all season. Niels pushed the team hard, demanding perfection, shouting instructions until his voice was hoarse. Dev Patel was a bundle of nervous energy. He spent hours in the video room, studying clips of the Leverkusen full-back he’d face. In training, he’d try a move, mess it up, then immediately doubt himself. Niels saw this and pulled him aside after a tough drill. "Dev, you’re talented, no doubt. Don’t let your head get in the way. Trust your first touch. Trust your instincts. They have no idea what you can do when you’re free. Play your game, not theirs." Dev looked up, a spark of understanding in his eyes. Thiago, on the other hand, was almost too confident. He saw the European stage as a chance to show off his flair, full of bold ideas and new tricks. But his defense was still a worry. Niels pushed him hard on tracking back and protecting his full-back. "Thiago, a moment of magic doesn’t mean anything if it costs us a goal. Europe is unforgiving with defensive mistakes. Everyone has to defend." For once, Thiago really listened. The message finally hit home. Reece Darby, the young attacking right-back, faced a tough choice. His overlapping runs were key to Crawley’s attack, but against Leverkusen, they could be risky. Niels drilled him hard on defense, making him practice quick decisions and cover more ground than he was used to in League One. "Reece, choose your moments wisely. Be brave but be smart. One mistake, and they’ll take full advantage." Even the veterans felt the change. Max Simons, the captain, spent more time talking with the younger players, sharing stories from his career to help them stay calm. Adam Fletcher, the experienced goalkeeper, was sharper than ever in training, his voice ringing out across the pitch, steadying the defense. The flight to Germany felt surreal. The players, used to long bus rides to places like Bescot Stadium and cramped away dressing rooms in League One, now looked out the window at the clouds completely different from their usual routine. The club’s limited budget ruled out a private jet, but the chartered flight still felt like a big upgrade. On the plane, the mood was a strange mix of excitement and quiet focus. Max Simons sat next to Korey Henry, chatting about tactics and trying to keep things light. "Just another game, right, Korey?" Max smiled, though his eyes showed a bit of nerves. Korey just nodded, bouncing his knee like a spring ready to snap. Benji Cook, the young keeper, had his headphones on, shutting out the noise as he pictured making saves. When they landed, Leverkusen felt completely different from the familiar, gritty towns of the English lower leagues. The team’s hotel was sleek and modern nothing like the simple, practical places they were used to. The air felt sharper, alive with the energy of a big European city. That evening, Niels gathered the team for one last meeting. The room was quiet, the players sitting with their eyes focused on him. "Tomorrow," Niels started, his voice steady but strong, "you’ll step onto that pitch. You’ll hear the anthem. The crowd’s roar will be overwhelming. It’s a moment you’ll never forget." He paused, letting it sink in. "You’re not just playing for the club. You’re playing for everyone who believed in you, for every hour of hard work you’ve put in. For the fans who travel miles, for your families who stand behind you, for the badge on your chest." He scanned the room, meeting each player’s eyes. "We’re the underdogs. Everyone expects us to lose. Use that as fuel. Let it fire you up. We’ve fought hard for every inch to get here. Now, let’s make them fight for every inch back." As the players headed to their rooms, the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. This wasn’t just a game, it was a test of everything they’d worked for, a chance to make history for the club. They’d fought hard for every inch against Walsall. Now, it was time to see if they could hold their own on the biggest stage. The quiet determination in the room balanced out the nerves. Crawley Town was here and they weren’t just showing up, they were ready to fight. The night stretched on, but sleep didn’t come easy for any of them. In their rooms, players lay awake, staring at the ceiling or out the window, their minds a whirlwind of thoughts doubt mixing with hope, nerves tangled with determination. Tomorrow wasn’t just another game on the schedule; it was so much more. It was their chance to show the world who they really were, to prove that all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the struggles had brought them here for a reason. No matter what happened on that pitch, this moment would define them not just as a team, but as individuals ready to face whatever came next.