Chapter 20: The Climb Starts Here
Wednesday, 4 December
Pre-Match Build-Up, Match 17 vs Morecambe
The air at the training ground was cold. December had arrived in Crawley, and there was frost on the grass each morning. The players could feel the cold even with their thermals on.
Their boots made a crunching sound as they walked across the pitch. Their breath showed in the air.
But things felt different now.
The team had some momentum. It wasn't anything huge, but they had earned it.
They had put together two good league performances, followed by a tough draw and then the win against Wrexham. They were now 13th in the table.
There was still plenty to improve. They were nowhere near the top of the league, but something had changed. The players looked less nervous. They were starting to believe in themselves.
The next game was against Morecambe.
They were in the top four and were a much tougher side. They were organised, physical and liked to press high. When they lost the ball, they worked hard to win it back quickly.
A team like that wouldn't give Crawley many easy chances.
They would have to play smart.
More importantly, they would have to play together.
Inside the meeting room, the lights were low and the projector was already on. A still image of Morecambe filled the screen. Their players were packed into the final third.
Niels stood at the front with a cup of cold coffee in one hand and the remote in the other.
"Alright. Have a look at this."
He pressed play.
The video showed Morecambe pressing high and forcing a Crawley defender into a bad pass. They won the ball, made three quick passes and scored.
"That's how they get you," Niels said. He paused the video. "They're dangerous when they win the ball. One bad pass or a poor touch can be enough."
He played another clip.
This one came from a corner. A Morecambe player made a run into the box and nobody followed him. He had a free header and scored.
"They'll punish mistakes," Niels said. "So our job is simple. Don't give them easy chances."
He looked around the room.
Nate was sitting near the front beside Dev. Luka was at the back with his arms folded, chewing gum. Reece was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching the screen.
"This game isn't about their position in the table," Niels said. "It's about us. We need to stick to what we've been working on and trust each other."
Nobody said anything.
They were listening.
That afternoon, training was tough and focused.
It wasn't a long session, but the pace was high. They worked on one-touch rondos, small-sided games under pressure and transition drills where slow decisions were punished.
Reece kept talking from the back, giving instructions as if the match had already started.
Luka took a knock to the shin but waved away the physio and carried on.
Dev looked sharper than he had for a while. His passing was quick and accurate, and he covered a lot of ground.
Nate looked calm.
During one possession drill, he moved into space between the lines. He let the ball come across him and then played a pass between two defenders to Dev.
Dev finished low at the near post.
Niels didn't say anything. He just watched.
Nate was improving.
But it wasn't only him.
The whole squad looked more connected than before. They still had plenty to work on, but the players were talking more and covering for each other. The nervous energy from earlier had turned into focus.
Niels stayed near the edge of the drill with his arms folded. Every so often, he stepped in to correct something or give a quick reminder.
Most of the time, though, he let them work it out.
Players don't gain confidence because someone keeps shouting at them.
They gain it when they know what they're doing.
By late afternoon, the training ground was quiet again.
Most of the players had gone inside. Some were using the recovery tubs while others were heading for the showers.
Niels stayed in his office with the door half closed. A small desk lamp lit up the whiteboard.
The magnets were spread across it, mostly in a 4-3-3 shape. Niels moved a few of them around.
Morecambe's press was going to be a problem. Crawley needed more cover in midfield.
He moved Reece deeper and pushed Dev and Luka further forward. A single pivot could give them more options when they had the ball.
Niels moved another magnet wider.
There.
That was the space between Morecambe's press and their fullbacks.
If Crawley could get through the first wave, they might have room to attack.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Milan.
Milan:
"Morecambe will press from the start. Don't give them easy balls. Make them work for everything."
Niels smiled.
Milan wasn't around the club as much since handing over the job, but he still kept an eye on the fixtures.
Niels typed back.
Niels:
"We're ready to make them run."
That night, Niels didn't go straight home.
He decided to walk instead.
The streets around his flat were quiet. It was cold, and most of the houses had already put up their Christmas decorations. Some had lights around the windows, while others had plastic decorations in their gardens.
A dog barked somewhere in the distance and then went quiet.
Niels kept walking.
Football was always on his mind, but there was a life outside it too. Things still carried on when training went badly or when he had to change a plan.
It sometimes felt close, but he never quite had time for it.
He walked past the corner café. It was closed, but the lights were still on inside.
He thought about the girl who worked there. She had smiled at him once after a win. He had only said, "Americano, thanks."
Maybe next time he'd say something more.
Maybe.
But not tonight.
Back at the flat, Niels sat on the couch with his tablet.
He opened a new file. It wasn't match footage or another scouting report.
At the top of the page, he had written:
What comes after survival?
He looked at it for a while.
Then he typed underneath:
A team that believes in something more.
He leaned back and looked at the screen.
The season was still long.
They couldn't get through it just trying to survive.
They needed something more.
Friday Morning, One Day Before the Match
The final training session was short and focused.
They worked on set pieces and went through a few match situations. Niels kept the intensity under control. The players were quiet and focused on what they needed to do.
After the last drill, Niels called everyone into the center circle.
He waited for a moment before speaking.
"We've earned some respect," he said. "Now we need to keep moving forward. Every win gives us a chance to climb the table."
He looked around the group.
There were experienced players standing beside academy lads. Luka looked focused as ever, while Nate struggled to hide his excitement.
"Morecambe will be difficult, but they're not unbeatable. We're not here just to hang on. We need to show that we're ready to take the game to them and create our own chances."
A few players nodded.
Others stood quietly, listening.
Niels didn't say anything else.
He walked towards the dugout, his boots crunching on the frost.
Tomorrow, there would be no need for another speech.
They would have to show it on the pitch.