Friday, February 6th. 7:45 PM. The Hawthorns.
West Bromwich Albion vs. Sheffield United.
The Sky Sports cameras were everywhere. A crane camera hovered over the center circle like a giant mechanical mosquito.
Ethan stood in the tunnel. The mascot holding his hand—a frightened seven-year-old named Leo—looked up at him.
"Are you the one who costs three grand a week?" Leo asked loudly.
Danny Hayes, standing behind Ethan, snorted with laughter. "Out of the mouths of babes," Hayes whispered. "No pressure, moneybags."
Ethan forced a smile, but his stomach felt knotted. The news had leaked, as it always did. The Express & Star headline that morning read: BAGGIES TIE DOWN WONDERKID MATTHEWS.
Suddenly, he wasn't just the plucky academy graduate anymore. He was an asset. An investment. He was a professional expected to deliver results.
"Focus," Volkan Demir said from the front, turning to lock eyes with Ethan. "The grass is the same. The ball is the same."
Kickoff.
Sheffield United was 2nd in the league. A machine of a team. Physical, direct, and tough.
Ethan's first touch was heavy.
The ball bounced off his shin. He scrambled to recover it, sliding in to poke it away before the Sheffield midfielder could take advantage.
A ripple of unease went through the crowd.
He's nervous, Ethan thought. They know I'm nervous.
15th Minute.
Ethan received the ball in space. The old Ethan—the one playing for a contract—would have moved it simply. The new Ethan—the one trying to justify £3,500 a week—tried to be a hero.
He saw a 60-yard cross-field pass. It was a risky ball. He hit it.
It floated. It hung in the air for what felt like forever before landing harmlessly on the chest of a Sheffield United defender.
"Keep it!" Vance roared from the touchline, kicking a water bottle.
"Simple, Ethan!" Liam Thorne barked from defense. "Stop looking for the highlights!"
Ethan's cheeks burned. He was trying too hard. He wanted to prove he was worth the money, but he was playing like a competition winner.
35th Minute.
Sheffield United sensed weakness. Their captain, a 32-year-old veteran named Norwood, decided to test the "wonderkid."
Ethan went to control a bouncing ball. Norwood didn't slow down. He charged right through Ethan.
Crack.
Ethan hit the turf hard. The wind was knocked out of him.
"Welcome to the payroll, son!" Norwood sneered, towering over him.
Ethan gasped for air. He looked at the ref. No whistle, the ref shrugged.
Ethan peeled himself off the grass. His back throbbed. He looked at the stands. He felt... heavy.
Halftime. West Brom 0 - 0 Sheffield United.
The dressing room was tense. West Brom had not played well.
Julian Vance walked into the center of the room. He didn't shout. He walked straight up to Ethan.
"How much?" Vance asked quietly.
Ethan looked up, wiping mud from his face. "Boss?"
"How much is your contract?" Vance asked, louder this time.
The room fell silent.
"£3,500, boss," Ethan whispered.
"£3,500," Vance repeated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a £1 coin. He tossed it at Ethan. It bounced off Ethan's chest and landed on the floor.
"That is what you are playing like. You are playing like a cheap imitation of yourself."
Vance leaned in, his nose inches from Ethan's.
"You think the fans care about your bank account? They care about the badge. You are trying to win their love with fancy passes. Stop it. I don't pay you to be a magician. I pay you to be a midfielder. Get the ball. Give it to Volkan. Get it back. Move."
Vance turned away.
"If you hit one more 60-yard ball to nobody, I will sub you off and fine you a week's wages myself. Do your job."
Second Half.
Ethan walked out. The sting of Vance's words was worse than Norwood's tackle. But the message was clear. Do your job.
48th Minute.
Ethan got the ball. Norwood came flying in again. Ethan didn't try to turn him. He didn't try a trick. He played a simple, one-touch bounce pass back to Thorne.
Norwood chased the shadow.
Ethan moved. He got the ball back. He played it five yards to Hayes. Then he moved again.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
He stopped thinking about the money. He stopped thinking about the cameras. He just focused on the connection with Demir.
65th Minute.
The rhythm returned. West Brom was taking control.
Ethan received the ball deep. He saw the Sheffield defense shifting. He didn't attempt the long ball. He drove into the space.
He drew a defender out. He slipped a quick pass through the lines to Remi Cole's feet.
Cole spun. He was fouled. Free kick. Edge of the box.
"Better!" Vance clapped from the sideline.
72nd Minute.
Danny Hayes stood over the free kick. "You want it?" Hayes asked Ethan. "Like the U21s?"
"No," Ethan said. "It's your range."
Hayes smiled. "Smart lad."
Hayes stepped up. He curled it beautifully over the wall. The keeper clawed it out but couldn't hold it.
The ball spilled loose in the six-yard box.
Ethan hadn't watched the shot. He had followed it in. While the Sheffield defenders were focused on the ball, Ethan was sprinting.
He arrived first. He didn't smash it. He just guided it with the side of his foot.
The ball rolled into the net.
GOAL. 1-0 West Brom.
The Hawthorns erupted.
Ethan didn't perform a cool celebration. He didn't point to his name on the back. He just ran to the corner flag and slid on his knees, screaming with relief.
Demir grabbed him. Thorne grabbed him.
"That's the work!" Thorne yelled. "That's the gamble!"
Full Time. West Brom 1 - 0 Sheffield United.
A huge three points against a promotion rival.
Ethan walked toward the tunnel. He was battered. His shin was bleeding. His back was bruised.
The Sky Sports reporter, a woman with a microphone and a cameraman, intercepted him.
"Ethan! Ethan! A word?"
Ethan stopped. He wiped his face with his shirt.
Reporter: "Ethan, first game after signing your new deal. A lot of talk about the contract this week. Did you feel the pressure tonight?"
Ethan looked at the camera. He thought about lying. He thought about saying, 'No, it's just football.'' But he was too tired to lie.
Ethan: "Yeah. I did. First half, I was terrible. I was trying to prove it. The gaffer... he reminded me at halftime that I'm just a midfielder. So I went back to basics."
Reporter: "And the goal? Right place, right time?"
Ethan: "Just following in. Demir tells me to take chances, so I took one."
Reporter: "Man of the Match performance in the second half. Congratulations."
She handed him a small, gold trophy.
Ethan looked at it. It was heavy.
11:00 PM. The Group Chat.
Ethan lay in bed. The trophy was on his desk next to his laptop.
Callum: Saw the interview. 'I was terrible.' Honest.
Mason: Good goal. Ugly goal. The best kind.
Ethan: Vance tore me apart at halftime. Threw a pound coin at me.
Callum: Did you keep the pound? That's a tip.
Ethan: lol. No. But he was right. I was playing the contract, not the game.
Mason: You got the winner against Sheffield United. You're 3rd now. Automatic promotion is on.
Ethan: Yeah. But I'm bruised everywhere. Norwood is a psychopath.
Ethan put the phone down. He checked his bank app. The first payment hadn't gone in yet. But looking at the bruises on his legs and the Man of the Match trophy on his desk, he felt like he had finally earned it.
He wasn't a "wonderkid" tonight. He was a professional who had done his job.