Saturday, January 31st, 12:25 PM, St. Andrew's Stadium.
The tunnel at St. Andrew's was narrow and smelled of wintergreen and old concrete. The noise from the stands vibrated through the walls, a low, guttural roar that felt heavier than at The Hawthorns.
This was the West Midlands Derby.
Ethan stood in line. He was the youngest player in the tunnel by three years.
Volkan Demir stood in front of him, staring straight ahead at the Birmingham City crest on the wall. He turned his head slightly.
"Heart rate?" Demir asked.
"Fast," Ethan admitted.
"Good," Demir nodded. "Fear makes you sharp. But remember, they are just men, and they are scared of us."
The referee picked up the ball.
"Let's go," Liam Thorne shouted from the front. "Battle stations!"
They walked out.
The noise hit them like a physical blow. Thirty thousand bluenoses booed in unison. Keep Right On rang out from the Tilton Road End.
Ethan looked up at the away end. The West Brom fans were a sea of yellow and navy, packed into the Gil Merrick Stand. Somewhere in that chaotic, bouncing mass were Mason, Callum, and his dad.
Ethan took a deep breath of the cold, smoggy air. I am not a security guard. I am the one in control.
12:30 PM, kickoff.
The game started fast. The ball hardly touched the ground.
In the 3rd minute, Ethan went up for a header against the Birmingham captain—a grizzly veteran twice his size. Ethan didn't win the ball, but he didn't back down. He put his body in the way. The ball spun loose.
"Welcome to the derby, schoolboy!" the Birmingham captain sneered, jogging past.
Ethan ignored him. He scanned the field and found his space.
15th Minute.
The game settled slightly. West Brom began to control possession.
Ethan received the ball from Thorne. He heard the Birmingham crowd scream, "GET HIM!"
Two blue shirts converged on him.
Ethan felt a surge of confidence. He didn't pass back. He waited and lured them in.
At the last moment, he chopped the ball onto his left foot, letting the first tackler slide past. The second tackler hesitated.
Ethan looked up and saw Remi Cole making a diagonal run between the center-backs.
Ethan sent the pass.
It was a risk. If it was intercepted, Birmingham could counter.
But the pass was precise. It sliced through the midfield, bypassing four players.
Cole collected it, took a touch, and fired. The Birmingham keeper made a fingertip save.
"Great ball!" Cole shouted, giving Ethan a thumbs up.
In the dugout, Julian Vance sat still, chewing his gum. He didn't clap. He just watched the space Ethan had created.
1:10 PM, the away end.
"Did you see that turn?" Callum yelled, grabbing Mason's shoulder. "That was amazing!"
Mason watched the game closely, analyzing Ethan's positioning.
"He's playing higher," Mason noted. "Demir is sitting deep, letting Ethan roam. He trusts him to get back."
"It's working," Gary Matthews said, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing. "He looks calm."
"He looks like he owns the place," Callum grinned. "Go on, Eth!"
42nd Minute.
The deadlock broke.
It started with a tackle.
Birmingham tried to break. Their winger cut inside, looking dangerous.
Ethan tracked him. He didn't just jockey; he remembered the "First Team Body" lesson.
He stepped across the winger's line, using his hip to push the man off balance. It was a perfectly timed interception.
Ethan came away with the ball. The Birmingham fans screamed for a foul. The ref waved play on.
Ethan drove forward, 30 yards, 40 yards.
The Birmingham defense backed off, afraid of his passing range.
Ethan saw the gap. He didn't pass; he noticed Danny Hayes making a run to pull the defender away.
Ethan kept going and reached the edge of the box.
He faked a shot. The center-back committed.
Ethan slid a no-look pass into the path of the winger, Grady Diangana, who was playing in place of the injured starter.
Diangana didn't miss. He smashed it into the roof of the net.
GOAL. 1-0 West Brom.
The away end exploded. Blue smoke flares went off.
Ethan didn't run to the crowd. He turned and pointed at Volkan Demir. Demir walked over and, for the first time ever, grabbed Ethan in a headlock.
"My boy!" Demir roared. "That is the pass!"
Halftime.
Birmingham 0 - 1 West Brom.
"Do not stop!" Vance shouted in the dressing room. "They will come out fighting. They will try to kick you. Ethan!"
"Yes, boss?"
"You are in control. But in the second half, they will target you. Be ready. Move the ball faster. One touch. Don't let them get close enough to hurt you."
"Understood."
65th Minute.
Vance was right. Birmingham came out angry.
Ethan received the ball and was immediately crunched by a sliding tackle. It was late and high.
Ethan rolled on the grass, clutching his shin.
The ref showed a yellow card. It should have been red.
Mason stood up in the stands. "That's a red! He nearly snapped him!"
Callum winced. "He's getting up. Look."
Ethan stood up, pulled his sock up, and looked at the tackler. He didn't say anything, just smiled.
A cold, dismissive smile.
He took the quick free kick and switched play to the opposite flank, launching another attack.
"Mentality monster," Mason whispered.
88th Minute.
West Brom were clinging on, 1-0.
Ethan was exhausted. He had run 11 kilometers and his calves were screaming.
"Matthews!" Vance yelled. "Drop! Screen!"
Ethan dropped deep, slotting in next to Thorne to form a back five.
A high ball came in. Ethan jumped. He was shorter than the Birmingham striker, but he used his leverage. He nudged the striker just as he jumped, putting him off.
The header went wide.
Ethan landed and pumped his fist. A defensive victory.
Full Time.
Birmingham City 0 - 1 West Bromwich Albion.
The final whistle was the sweetest sound Ethan had ever heard.
Liam Thorne grabbed him. "Derby winner! You beauty!"
The team walked over to the away end. The fans were going wild. Boing Boing!
Ethan looked up. He saw the banner. He saw his dad waving his scarf. He saw Callum standing on a seat. He saw Mason clapping with that proud, stoic look.
Ethan took off his shirt—Number 48—and threw it into the crowd.
It didn't reach his dad. A young kid caught it and looked at it like it was gold.
Ethan laughed. He walked off the pitch shirtless in the freezing cold, feeling warmer than he ever had in his life.
3:30 PM, outside the stadium.
The team bus was waiting, engine running.
Ethan ran out of the players' entrance, in a new tracksuit, carrying a box of pizza.
He saw them waiting by the barrier.
"You absolute legend!" Callum screamed, vaulting the barrier and nearly tripping. He hugged Ethan so hard the pizza box crunched.
"1-0 away at St. Andrews," Mason said, shaking Ethan's hand firmly. "And you got the assist. That interception was excellent."
"I learned it from you," Ethan grinned. "The 'Wall of Crestwood'."
Gary Matthews hugged his son. He didn't say anything, but his eyes were red.
"Vance is happy," Ethan said, out of breath. "He said I played like a man."
"You did," Mason agreed. "You controlled the game. You didn't just survive, Eth. You belonged."
The bus horn honked.
"I've got to go," Ethan said. "Recovery session tomorrow. Then we prep for Friday night. We're on Sky Sports."
"Go," Callum said, pushing him toward the bus. "Don't forget us little people when you're famous."
"Never," Ethan said.
He ran back to the bus and climbed the steps.
Volkan Demir was sitting in his usual seat. He patted the empty seat next to him.
"Sit," Demir said. "We'll analyze the game."
Ethan sat down. He was a starter, a derby winner. And for the first time, he felt like a West Bromwich Albion player.