Chapter 23: Solid Ground

Words : 1267 Updated : Sep 23rd, 2025

Chapter 23 of "Touchline Rebirth: From Game To Glory" opens presenting twists: Chapter 23 - Solid Ground Chapter 23: Solid Ground Wednesday, 10 December 2009 It was colder now not... Keep following!

Chapter 23 - Solid Ground Chapter 23: Solid Ground Wednesday, 10 December 2009 It was colder now not the crisp kind, but the damp kind that sat like a wet rag on your neck. The frost had melted into grey mush. Still, the mood hadn't dipped. The Morecambe win was still lingering in the air, like the afterglow of a storm that somehow missed you. But football never stays paused for long. By midweek, the squad's attention had shifted to the next job: Burton Albion away. Level on points. Level on form. Both clubs parked firmly in the middle of the table. At least for now. "It's not a cup tie," Niels told the group on Wednesday morning, "but it's just as important." They were gathered in the cold meeting room. The space heater rattled in the corner, steam curled from takeaway coffees. No highlight reels today, no motivational monologues. Just clips of Burton's last few matches and a series of calmly drawn arrows on the whiteboard. "They press early. Then they drop off. They'll let you play, then punish the mistake." The room was quiet and focused. Reece sat forward, elbows on knees. Nate spun a coin between his fingers. Max leaned back with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen. "This is where we find out if we're climbing," Niels said, clicking off the projector, "or just staying mid-table." Thursday's training was sharp. It was not loud, not that intense but efficient. Reece led the warm-up drills, barking instructions in short, clipped bursts. Luka and Dev passed in quick, one-touch triangles, silent except for the sound of boot against ball. Nate looked stiff early on, rubbing at his left hamstring, but once the tempo lifted, he was gliding again. Even the backup players Korey, Qazi, Ellis trained like starters. The belief was no longer a novelty. It was a standard. In one of the final small-sided drills, Max took a long diagonal switch out of the air with a chest touch, let it drop once, then curled it inside the far post without looking up. The goal was clean, calm, the sort of strike that doesn't need a celebration. He jogged back without a word. Reece shook his head and muttered, "Same boots, but new week." Saturday Matchday 18 against Burton Away. The bus ride was subdued. Nobody slept, just headphones, notes, and quiet rituals. Nate sat with a single earbud in, tapping out rhythms on his leg. Luka scrolled through messages but didn't reply to any. Dev kept watching one particular clip of Burton's fullback losing a foot race, rewinding and replaying. Even Max had his eyes closed, but he wasn't sleeping. He was just conserving. Burton's ground wasn't glamorous. There were low stands, patchy grass. Like a cold wind cutting across from behind the car park. As they filed out into the tunnel, Luka nudged Reece. "These are the ones we used to slip up on." Reece didn't flinch. "Not anymore, we will give our best." First half. Crawley looked flat early on. Maybe it was the travel. Maybe the sudden expectation. But the sharpness they'd carried into training had gone a bit dull under the Burton lights. Burton pressed high and early. They forced errors, cut passing lanes, and chased second balls like dogs let off the leash. Crawley didn't panic, but they couldn't settle either. In the 22nd minute, they got stung. Dev went to clear, slipped slightly, and shanked it into the center. Their number ten snapped onto it, skipped past one, and fed their forward inside the box. A low, simple finish. 1–0. Burton 1-0 Crawley The home crowd offered only scattered applause, businesslike and restrained. Reece turned to the defense and clapped once, sharply. "Now we go." But Crawley didn't click right away. They steadied. Kept the ball better. Moved it quicker. But the sting was still there. At the break, the dressing room wasn't tense just tight. There was no panic, but no relief either. "We've been here before," Max said, calmly unlacing one boot. "We are one down, but we know how to handle this." Niels didn't speak for a while. He just let them breathe. Then he clicked the marker onto the board. "They've revealed their tactics: wide pressure, early service, midfield drops off. That's their play." He turned, eyes moving across the room. "Now it's time to show them how we exploit their weakness.." Second half. Crawley came out leaner, cleaner, sharper, more disciplined, and with greater control. They slowed the tempo just enough to control it. Luka dropped deeper to collect. Reece pushed further up the left flank. Nate, quiet for most of the first half, started ghosting between lines. In the 61st minute, it came together. Luka took a ball near the center circle, spun without looking, and fired it wide left. Reece was already on the run. First-time cross, low and dangerous. Nate arrived late. Perfect timing. Side-footed it past the keeper without breaking stride. 1–1. There was no wild celebration. Just Nate pointing at Luka. Luka pointed back, like it had been rehearsed for weeks. Crawley didn't back off after that. Burton made changes. They switched to a back five, tried to squeeze the space. But Crawley kept pushing, staying calm, patient, and focused. Max nearly stole it in the 87th. A loose ball popped out from a crowded box, and he struck it flush on the half-volley. Sweet as you like. But it was off the post. Gasps from the away end. Even the Burton keeper just watched it rattle. "Next one," Max muttered, jogging back. Burton, now rattled, started wasting time. Throw-ins that took an age, keeper down for a phantom cramp. Crawley didn't get sucked in. They just kept playing. Full-time. 1–1. It wasn't exciting, but it wasn't bad either. It was steady. Sunday morning. The local paper's headline read: "Even Game, Calm Minds: Crawley Fight Hard in Burton Draw." A still image from the goal: Nate wheeling away, Reece fist-pumping in the background. Luka in the frame, just smiling slightly. No one called it a miracle. No one called it luck. Just another result. Another point on the climb. Players filtered into the training ground for light recovery, their voices quiet and muscles stiff. But nobody was walking like they'd lost, though there was a hint of frustration since they wanted to win. Niels sat alone in his office after everyone had gone. He pulled up the same document he'd been writing in since August. He scrolled past the old lines. "What comes after survival?" "The climb becomes a run. And the run becomes belief." Then he typed: "The teams that rise don't always win. But they don't lose the wrong ones." That night, Max walked the pitch again. Same hoodie, same coat. Just him and the quiet. The empty grass, pale under the winter sky. He stood near the edge of the box, boots crunching over the frost. Looked at the far post. The goal he almost stole. He said nothing, he just stood still, thinking and waiting. Then he turned and walked back toward the tunnel. Another moment was coming somewhere, maybe not dramatic, but important. And this time, he'd be ready. If you enjoyed the Chapter, please consider dropping a Power Stone! Your support means a lot and really motivates me to keep writing. Thank you! ????⚽

Chapter 23: Solid Ground

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