The "Matrix Effect," that's what Harvey called it.
It was the feeling that after training with a higher level, returning to your own age group felt like someone had slowed the game down from 100% to 80%.
Ethan felt it the moment the whistle blew on Saturday.
WBA U18 vs. MANCHESTER UNITED U18
United were the elite of youth football. Their academy produced creative players, wingers with quick feet, and midfielders who could make precise passes. Earlier in the season, watching them would have scared Ethan.
But today, as the United midfielder, a highly rated Belgian youth international, approached him, Ethan didn't feel anxious. He didn't experience the overwhelming pressure he had felt against Liverpool.
Compared to Jonas Olsson's shadow or the tough U23 midfielder who had tackled him on Tuesday, this player seemed manageable.
The United player lunged. Ethan saw it coming easily. He simply stepped aside, rolled the ball under his foot, and watched the midfielder miss him.
"Too easy," Tyrell grunted, jogging by Ethan to offer a passing option. "Run the game, Matthews. You've got time."
And he did. For the first time in his West Brom career, Ethan wasn't just getting by in the midfield, he was controlling it.
The "Red Plan" muscle allowed him to fend off challenges without breaking. The U23 experience meant he was processing the game clearly. He sent passes left and right, short, quick combinations with Tyrell to break the press and long diagonal balls to Harvey to stretch the United defense.
In the 38th minute, the breakthrough happened. But it didn't come from a pass.
Ethan got the ball in the "half-space," twenty-five yards from goal. The United center-backs stepped back, worried about the pass to Harvey. They were respecting the assist maker.
Ethan looked up. He saw that the lane to the striker was blocked. Harvey was marked.
Be a hammer, a voice in his head urged.
He took a touch into the available space. The United defense hesitated, still anticipating the pass.
Ethan didn't pass. He planted his left foot, locked his ankle, and struck the ball with his laces.
It wasn't a finesse shot. It wasn't a curve. It was a strike of pure efficiency, powered by three months of squats and deadlifts.
The ball flew straight and true, rising slightly before dipping sharply under the crossbar. The United keeper didn't even see it.
GOAL.
1-0 West Brom.
Ethan stood still for a moment, watching the net ripple. His first goal, for West Bromwich Albion.
Then the noise hit him. Not the roar of Eastfield, but the polite applause from the academy crowd and the cheers of his teammates. Harvey jumped on his back. Tyrell grabbed his head and shook it. "There he is! The U23 superstar! About time you shot!"
West Brom went on to win 2-1. It was their first big victory of the season, beating one of the top academies in the country.
After the match, Gareth was waiting in the tunnel. He held a clipboard, his face serious as always, but his eyes were bright. "You looked comfortable today," the manager said.
"It felt slower," Ethan admitted, adrenaline still pumping through him.
"That's what happens," Gareth nodded. "You swim with sharks, the goldfish don't scare you anymore." He checked a box on his sheet. "Enjoy the goal. But don't get too confident. Next week is Man City. They aren't goldfish."
Ethan walked into the changing room, the match ball under his arm a souvenir he had negotiated from the kit man. He sat down and checked his phone.
He had a text from Mason.
We drew 0-0 with Riverton. Ugly game. The pitch was a mess. Callum hit the post twice and is sulking in the clubhouse.
Ethan frowned. A 0-0 draw against their main title rivals was a decent result, but it meant the "Heavy Metal" team had stalled.
He typed back I scored. We beat United 2-1.
Three dots appeared instantly. Then Callum's name popped up on the screen, an incoming FaceTime call.
Ethan answered. Callum's face filled the screen. He was in the clubhouse, wearing his Crestwood tracksuit, looking frustrated. Mason was in the background, eating chips.
"You scored?" Callum shouted, skipping the greetings. "Against Manchester United? Like... the actual Manchester United?"
"The U18s," Ethan corrected, smiling. "But yeah. From outside the box."
"I hit the post from six yards," Callum groaned, putting his head on the table. "The ball got stuck in the mud. I hate winter pitches. I hate them."
"He messed it up," Mason called out, mouth full of chips. "But congrats, Eastfield. Beating United is impressive."
"How was the game?" Ethan asked.
"Horrible," Callum sighed, sitting up. "Riverton figured us out. They just sat back and kicked us. They outplayed us. We missed you today. We needed someone who could unlock the defense. Mason just kept trying to force it."
"I nearly broke through," Mason argued. "Their keeper made two amazing saves."
Ethan listened to their banter, the familiar rhythm of their friendship comforting him. He glanced at the match ball beside him. He had leveled up today. He had felt strong. But hearing about the mud, the missed chances, and the frustrating draw in the cold Eastfield air... part of him wished he had been there to help unlock the defense.
"Are you still at the top?" Ethan asked.
"Joint top," Mason said. "Goal difference is keeping us in the game. It's going to be a long winter."
"You'll stay there," Ethan said confidently. "You're the champions."
"Yeah, yeah," Callum waved a hand. "Go enjoy your Premier League glory. I'm off to buy Mia a hot chocolate and apologize for being grumpy."
The call ended. Ethan sat alone in the changing room a moment longer. He ran his hand over the smooth surface of the match ball. He had his first goal. He had his "matrix moment."
He stood up, wincing as his bruised legs protested. The gap between his two worlds was getting wider. One moving toward elite professionalism, the other sinking into the messy reality of grassroots soccer. But as long as he picked up the phone, he knew the bridge would hold.