Chapter 94: The Morning After the Glory

Chapter 94: The Morning After the Glory Chapter 94: The Morning After the Glory Monday, May 17, 2010 The morning sun streamed through the blinds of Crawley Town’s modest club office, casting bright stripes across the worn carpet. Niels stepped inside, still feeling the tiredness from last night’s celebration but quickly sharpening his focus. Despite the fatigue, he knew today was important. The excitement from the victory parade still pulsed through him, the loud chants of "Craw-ley! Craw-ley!", Max lifting the FA Cup, Luka’s wild dancing on the bus, and the crowd waving red scarves beneath fireworks. But the Club President’s message asking for a private meeting at 10 a.m. left him feeling uneasy beneath the celebration’s glow. He straightened his jacket, the faint scent of champagne lingering from the celebration, and strode down the narrow hallway to the boardroom. The walls bore the story of Crawley’s rise faded photos from non-league days, a packed Broadfield Stadium, and a new frame capturing Wembley’s miracle, Max’s arms raised with the trophy. Niels’s chest tightened with pride, but his mind was already bracing for what lay ahead. Inside the boardroom, the air was warm, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and polished wood. The board members, Club President Richard Langley, Sports Director Emma Hayes, and several others in suits stood as Niels entered, their faces showing genuine warmth. Richard, a burly man with a grizzled beard, stepped forward and shook Niels’s hand firmly. "Niels, you’re a absolute legend," he said, his voice rough but sincere. "You’ve made Crawley a name the world won’t forget." Niels gave a tired smile and sank into a chair at the long table. The room buzzed with a mix of formality and excitement, the FA Cup win hanging over them like a proud banner. Emma, her sharp eyes softened with pride, leaned forward. "What you’ve done, Niels it’s more than just a trophy. You’ve brought this town to life. From League Two to League One, and now FA Cup champions, you’ve changed everything. The board eagerly reviewed the club’s progress, their voices full of energy. Richard listed the wins: sold-out games, soaring ticket sales, new sponsors eager to join, and a youth academy full of kids dreaming to be the next Max or Luka. "We were nobodies in football," he said, tapping the table. "Now we’re a real story." The room laughed, but Niels stayed silent, nodding slowly, his mind drifting back to the President’s mysterious message. Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for. Richard slid a heavy folder across the polished table, his eyes locking firmly onto Niels’s. "We want you to stay, Niels," he said with quiet conviction. "We’re offering a two-year contract extension, with improved terms and more resources to strengthen the squad. You’re the heart and soul of this club." Emma leaned forward, her steady voice filling the room. "What you’ve built here is extraordinary. We believe in your vision. We need you to keep pushing forward help us cement our place in League One and maybe even take a shot at the Championship." The weight of their words hung in the air, full of promise and expectation. Niels opened the folder and scanned the contract. The numbers were generous for a club like Crawley, showing just how much they trusted him. His fingers traced the paper as his mind raced. Crawley was part of him, this town had taken a chance on an unknown coach and given him a home when the rest of the football world doubted him. He thought of Max’s grit, Luka’s fire, Jamal’s heart, Thiago’s flair, and the fans the passionate, tearful, scarf-waving believers who had made Broadfield a fortress. This was his fight. But before he could speak, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. He ignored it at first, nodding to Langley. "This means everything," he started, voice steady but thoughtful. "Crawley’s home. What we’ve done here..." He trailed off, searching for words, his hand resting on the contract. The buzz came again, insistent. "Sorry," Niels muttered, pulling out his phone, expecting a teammate’s joke or another flood of congratulations. Instead, the screen glowed with an email, the subject line stark: Coaching Opportunity – Barnsley FC & Nottingham Forest. His breath hitched. He glanced at the board, who watched him, curious but oblivious. "Just a moment," he said, opening the email, his pulse quickening. The message was blunt, professional, and staggering. Barnsley, the team Crawley had knocked out earlier in the FA Cup, and Nottingham Forest, both Championship clubs with Premier League ambitions, had jointly reached out. They offered a two-year coaching contract, with a salary that dwarfed Crawley’s proposal and a massive bonus tied to achieving Premier League promotion. The email was direct to him, bypassing agents Niels had never used one, a rarity in the game. ’Your work at Crawley has caught our eye, it read. Your tactics, your leadership, we believe you can lead us to the top flight.’ Niels’s grip tightened on the phone, his face a mask of calm despite the storm inside. Barnsley and Nottingham Forest. Two clubs with history, resources, and a shot at the Premier League. A chance to test himself on a bigger stage, to face the best, to etch his name among football’s elite. But Crawley, this small, passionate club had given him everything. The town had believed in him when no one else did. The players had given everything for him on the pitch. The fans had sung his name and held signs like "Niels, Our King." Leaving now, just after their biggest victory, felt like turning his back on a family still celebrating their moment of glory. He set the phone down, screen dark, and met Langley’s gaze. The President raised an eyebrow. "You alright, Niels?" Niels forced a nod, his mind a battlefield. "Yeah, just... a lot to process," he said, voice steady but distant. Emma leaned forward, her tone warm but probing. "No rush, Niels. Take a day, think it over. We know what you mean to this club." Niels nodded, fingers brushing the contract folder. The room felt tighter, the air heavier. He saw the faces from last night kids with painted faces, old-timers weeping, the girl with the "Max, My Hero" sign, the chant of "Thank you, Coach, for making us dream." But the email’s words burned: EFL Championship Team. A new challenge. Barnsley, a club he’d outwitted on the pitch, and Nottingham Forest, a sleeping giant, both saw him as their key to glory. He stood, shaking hands with the board, promising a decision soon. As he stepped outside, the morning air crisp and the town still buzzing with red pride, Niels felt the pull of two paths. Crawley, the heart he’d helped beat. Barnsley and Forest, a chance to soar. He slipped his phone into his pocket, the weight of the decision heavy as the trophy they’d lifted, and walked to his car, the echo of last night’s cheers battling the uncertainty of tomorrow. Now, alone in his apartment, the celebrations just a memory echoing faintly in the quiet, Niels stared at the glowing screen in his hand. Barnsley and Nottingham Forest two clubs with deep roots, bigger budgets, and real ambitions had laid their cards on the table. They were offering him more than just money. They were offering a future at the top level. The Championship. A possible shot at the Premier League. The chance to prove himself on a grander stage. It was ambition, wrapped in opportunity. A leap forward one most managers would dream of. But Crawley... Crawley had given him something different. Not prestige or money, but belief and loyalty. A place where he could grow, where his ideas had taken root. A place where he could call home. He had helped turn this underdog club into FA Cup champions. He had helped a town find its voice. And now, he stood at a crossroads. He faced two very different paths, each promising something the other could never offer. One led to the bright lights and higher stakes of football’s upper tiers. The other, to the soul of a club that had become part of him. And whichever path he chose... it would change everything.