Chapter 6: Echoes
The morning after the win against the League One side, the sun rose over Crawley like a curtain being pulled back on a new act. But for Niels, it wasn't the light that woke him—it was the silence.
Not the good kind.
He sat at his kitchen table, coffee growing cold beside his untouched toast. His phone buzzed with messages—congratulatory texts, media alerts, player reactions. But underneath it all, something gnawed at him. The win was real. The moment was his. And yet... he felt the shift again.
This was the part no one talked about. After the roar fades, after the adrenaline dies down, what's left?
Pressure. Expectation. And doubt, if you let it in.
He scrolled past headlines:
"Unknown Assistant Leads Crawley to Another Cup Upset""Marjan Magic? Crawley's New Brain on the Sideline""From Nobody to Next Big Thing?"
He closed the app. Hype could be dangerous—he knew that too well from his past life. One good run and they call you a genius. One mistake and they write you off like a fraud.
He wasn't here for the spotlight. He was here to rebuild, to create something lasting. But could he manage that now that the eyes were turning?
Tuesday: Inside the Walls
Training resumed, but it didn't feel the same. The squad was riding the high, and in a way, that was its own problem.
Luka was showboating a little more in drills. Nathan, their center-back, was calling out instructions louder than usual, trying to step into a role that wasn't his. Niels saw the ripple effects. A few lads were starting to think they were unbeatable. But football punished that kind of thinking.
He gathered them in the locker room after a short morning session. No big speech. Just words that needed to be heard.
"We're proud of what we did," he began. "But we haven't done anything yet."
The room stilled. Luka looked up, surprised. Even Nathan leaned back into the bench, his mouth shut.
"You want to be more than underdogs? Then prove it in the league. Week in, week out. That's how we build something. One win doesn't define us. How we respond to it does."
He met their eyes. One by one. Not loud. Not angry. Just clear. Calm. Certain.
That was leadership. Not about yelling—but about conviction.
Wednesday: One-on-One
That afternoon, Niels called Luka into his office. The winger had been their star recently, but Niels saw the signs—swagger drifting toward arrogance.
Luka flopped into the chair opposite him, still in boots and tape.
"You're playing with confidence," Niels said. "That's good. But don't let it blind you."
Luka blinked. "I was just trying to keep the energy up—"
"You don't need to impress me, Luka. I see your potential. But if you want to be more than just a highlight reel, start focusing on the little things. Off-the-ball runs. Pressing. Reading the game. You've got the talent. Now show me the discipline."
There was a beat of silence before Luka nodded. Slower this time. More thoughtful.
"Alright, coach. I got you."
It wasn't just about correcting him—it was about helping him grow. That was the job. Not just tactics. Not just speeches. Development. Person by person.
Thursday: Under Watch
Wallace visited training. No official reason—just observing. But Niels knew what that meant. The board was watching. Seeing if the "assistant" could carry the weight longer than a cup run.
As they passed each other near the touchline, Wallace offered a small nod.
"You're winning people over," he said.
Niels smiled faintly. "I'm not here to win people. I'm here to win matches."
Wallace grinned, impressed. "Keep that mindset. You're doing well. But don't forget—momentum cuts both ways."
He walked off, leaving Niels with those words echoing.
Saturday: Back to the League
Their next opponent wasn't flashy. Mid-table. Physical. Direct. A classic trap game. The kind that didn't come with headlines, but told you everything about a team's real character.
From the dugout, Niels adjusted the shape early—dropping Luka deeper, moving a fullback inside on the press. He didn't hesitate. He didn't overthink.
And the players followed.
It wasn't a beautiful match. It wasn't memorable.
But it was controlled. 2–0. Professional. Clinical.
After the Whistle
As they walked off, one of the younger players, Jamal, jogged up to Niels, eyes shining.
"We're starting to believe, coach."
Niels clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. But belief's only the start. Now we build."
That Night
Alone again, back at home, Niels opened his old notebook—the one he kept before the rebirth. It was worn, full of notes on tactics, analytics, quotes from coaches he admired.
He flipped to a page near the back.
"The goal isn't just to win. It's to teach people how to win. Then one day, they don't need you anymore. That's success."
He leaned back, exhaled, and let the silence return.
But this time, it wasn't unsettling. It was peace.
He was still learning. Still building.
But step by step, he was becoming the manager he'd always dreamed of.