Chapter 2: The First Step
The Monday after that first drill, something shifted.
It wasn't that the players had suddenly become faster or sharper. It was something beneath the surface, a sense of purpose. Training had rhythm now. Players were focused. The days of sleepwalking through training were over. For the first time in a long time, they knew someone was actually watching, really watching. Someone who cared whether they improved or not.
Luka Radev stood out more than anyone. His pace had always been erratic, explosive, but now it had direction. Niels had spent the week helping him find control within that chaos, teaching him when to burst, when to hold. Luka was making smarter runs, cutting inside at better angles. There were still issues, especially his reluctance to track back, but his decision-making was improving.
"Kid's got talent," Milan muttered one afternoon as Luka flew past a defender during a small-sided game. "Just hope he doesn't burn out."
"He won't," Niels said, hands in his pockets. "We'll help him control it."
Milan shot him a sideways glance. "You think he's ready for the next step?"
Niels nodded slowly. "Maybe. But it's not just him. There's something in this group."
His eyes drifted to Marko Simic. The lanky, uncertain center-back was still a work in progress. He had decent instincts but poor positioning. Niels saw something in him that drills or numbers wouldn't catch, something unspoken: a willingness to learn, a quiet resilience.
During one defensive drill, Marko was turned twice in a row by a journeyman striker with heavy boots and no pace. Milan started shouting, frustration rising, but Niels raised a hand.
"Let me take this one."
He jogged over, slowing the drill down to its basic movements.
"Your body shape is wrong," Niels said, mimicking the positioning. "You're chasing instead of guiding. You can't rely on instinct if your instincts are wrong. Think before you act."
Marko nodded, listening closely. He didn't say much, but on the next rep, he showed improvement. Nothing groundbreaking, but better than before.
That was enough for Niels. Progress, not perfection. He believed in small wins.
By Thursday, a few players had started staying behind after sessions, asking questions, reviewing clips, even requesting drills. They weren't doing it for Milan. They were doing it because Niels had made them feel seen.
He started keeping a notebook. Player notes, ideas for drills, quick sketches of pressing triggers or set pieces. The flashes of instinctual insight still came and went, but even without them, Niels had begun shaping the team in small, deliberate ways.
On Wednesday night, long after the stadium lights had dimmed, Niels sat alone in the video room. Match after match of their next opponent, Grimsby Town, played on screen. He studied everything: long balls over the top, slow buildup, shaky defending on corners.
He barely heard Milan walk in.
"Thinking ahead?" Milan asked, holding two steaming mugs of instant coffee.
Niels didn't look away from the screen. "Yes."
Milan leaned on the doorframe. "Good. Tactics are yours for the weekend."
Niels turned slowly. "Are you serious?"
"You've been running sessions. Shaping ideas. You've earned a chance." Milan shrugged. "We're bottom of the table. It's time for bold moves."
Niels hesitated. "You think the squad's ready for that?"
Milan tilted his head. "Doesn't matter. I think you're ready to show me that you have the talent in coaching."
The words settled heavy on Niels' chest, but there was excitement too. He nodded.
The weekend match arrived quickly. This wasn't some internal scrimmage. It was Crawley Town's next official league fixture against Grimsby Town. The pressure was real now. Crawley was still near the bottom of the table, clinging to their place in the league. Every point mattered.
Milan handed Niels the clipboard before they boarded the bus. "It's yours now. Pick the team."
Niels took a deep breath. He opted for discipline over flair, knowing the stakes. Luka started, but Marko didn't. A holding midfielder dropped deeper to shore up the back line. It wasn't a radical system, just practical. It was about keeping it tight, making sure they didn't lose ground.
The match was scrappy from the first whistle. Grimsby played direct, looking to exploit Crawley's shaky defense with long balls over the top. Crawley struggled to string passes together early on. Players slipped. The pressure was real, but so was the opportunity to show they had more than just fight.
Niels shouted instructions from the touchline, urging calm, composure, structure. Luka, for once, held his position rather than chasing every opportunity to attack. He waited for the right moments, sensing the flow of the game.
Then, with just ten minutes left, Luka got his chance.
A quick combination play on the right opened space. Luka took a touch past one defender, then another, and powered down the wing. He cut inside just outside the box, paused, and curled a left-footed shot toward the far post.
The ball bent perfectly past the keeper and smacked the netting.
1-0 Gooaal!.
The away fans, a small but home crowd, erupted in cheers. The bench came alive, even though the stadium was hardly full. It wasn't just the beauty of the goal, it was the culmination of Niels' work. The shape, the roles, the preparation all of it had clicked, even if just for this one moment.
At full time, the players shook hands and trudged off the pitch, exhausted but buzzing.
Milan gave Niels a slow nod. "Not bad."
Later that night, in the staff room, Milan sat back with a report in one hand, feet up on the table.
"You want more responsibility?" he asked, without looking up.
"Yes," Niels said immediately.
"Good," Milan replied. "Since you won this game, for next matchday it's all yours."
That night, Niels couldn't sleep. He sat at his desk with his notebook wide open. His mind spun with ideas as how to build from the back, how to press without tiring too early, how to protect a narrow lead. Every formation, every pattern mattered now.
Crawley Town had just climbed out of 21st place. The win had pushed them to 20th, but they weren't out of the woods. The gap to relegation was still tight, but for now, they had something to build on.
Their next match? A real test. Away to Macclesfield, a team with a bruising midfield and a high press. It wouldn't be televised. No big crowd. But for Niels, it was more than just a game, it was a statement.
No more playing it safe.
He was here to change the game.