Chapter 29 – Inches and Fire
Coach Grayson stood at the center of the room, his voice low but charged.
"I know who we're up against," he said, pacing in front of the whiteboard that had been wiped clean of tactics.
"Second in the Premier League. Champions League caliber. Ødegaard, Saka, Rice... yeah, I see the names too."
He paused, locking eyes with his players one by one.
"But guess what?"
A beat of silence.
"They bleed the same as you. They breathe the same. They can lose, too."
Marco leaned forward, his jaw tight. Jack bounced one leg, silent, his fingers twitching around a water bottle. Jamal gave a quiet nod.
"You're real players," Grayson said firmly. "Now go out there and prove it. Fight. Show us who you are."
He stepped back.
And the silence cracked—
"LET'S GO!" Tyler roared.
Nathan didn't shout. He stood, slowly, rolling his shoulders. His eyes were sharp—focused.
He wasn't thinking about their names anymore.
He was thinking about the space between them. The tiny windows of time. The gaps that only opened for a split second… and vanished.
Those inches would be his battlefield.
—
47th minute.
Bukayo Saka took the ball on the right flank and did what he did best—dribbled with arrogance and balance, hips swaying, boots gliding like they never touched the turf.
He danced past Carter.
Tch!
Cross incoming.
It zipped through the air like a whip.
Whump!
Declan Rice met it first—one-touch strike!
The shot screamed across the box, barely missing the post.
Nathan's eyes widened, heart in his throat—
But no goal.
Martinelli gathered the rebound at the edge of the area. He tried to cut inside—
THUD!!
Marco slammed into him with a perfectly timed challenge.
Elland Road exploded.
"YES, MARCO!" Jack screamed.
Marco didn't celebrate. He was already on his feet.
One pass.
Nathan got it, took a touch—
A defender closed in—
He slid it to Tyler.
Tyler didn't even blink. Returned it immediately.
The timing was immaculate.
Nathan was through.
He was in the box.
He saw the keeper. Saw the gap.
Now!
BOOM!!
He struck it with everything.
The net rippled—GOOOOOAAA—
No.
The whistle cut through the stadium like a dagger.
Flag up.
Offside.
The crowd gasped. Some groaned. A wave of disappointment rolled across Elland Road.
Nathan stood frozen.
The adrenaline hadn't left his bloodstream. His chest heaved.
He looked at the screen.
The replay.
Was I off?
The camera zoomed in. A frame-by-frame breakdown.
Half a foot.
That's all.
Half a foot ahead of the last man.
"Half a foot," Nathan whispered.
He turned back.
Tyler clapped him on the back, grinning.
"That was beautiful! Let's go, lads! We can keep this up!"
Marco came jogging past.
"Best move we've made all game."
Even Jack jogged up. "They're not perfect, mate. They blinked."
Grayson's voice cut through the sideline chatter.
"That's the run! Nathan, keep making it! We're almost in."
Nathan nodded. His chest still burned. But it wasn't from the sprint.
It was the feeling.
That they were close.
—