In the dressing room at half-time, the atmosphere was electric. The players were buzzing, their faces flushed with a mixture of exhaustion and a wild, untamed hope. "You're doing it," I said, my voice full of a pride that was so profound it almost brought tears to my eyes.
"You're not just competing with them. You're better than them. Now go out there and prove it." The second half was a brutal, end-to-end battle, a war of attrition that was a testament to the courage and the character of both teams.
Chelsea, their arrogance now replaced by a grudging respect, threw everything they had at us. But we refused to break. Tyler Webb and Reece Hannam were immense at the back, their partnership a rock on which Chelsea's attacks were repeatedly broken.
Nya Kirby and Jake Morrison were tireless in the midfield, their energy and their aggression a constant, disruptive force. I was living every moment with them, a blur of motion in my technical area.
