Chapter 8: Shifting Ground
Monday, November 26, 2009
Two days after Crawley Town vs. Aldershot Town (1-1 Draw)
The morning after the Aldershot draw was quiet.
The recovery session felt low-key, with little talk and no Milan on the touchline.
Niels couldn't sleep that night as he couldn't stop thinking about the game the good moments and the fight to get a draw.
But what worried him most was Milan.
After the match, Milan was silent, walked slowly with his hand on his side, and didn't speak much.
When Niels asked if he was okay, Milan said he was tired and left. That left Niels feeling worried.
Monday started cold and foggy at the training ground.
Niels called out, "Same drills, but sharper!" He was running the session again, Milan was still missing.
At first, the players didn't say much.
Niels had led before.
But during the drills, they kept stealing glances at the empty bench.
Luka looked toward the sidelines, Osei frowned as he passed, and Dev whispered something to Simons while nodding at the empty spot.
They kept working, but their focus was split wondering where Milan was.
Ten minutes later, Milan appeared through the mist, wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf, hands in his pockets.
He walked slowly, his face pale under the floodlights.
He didn't join in, he just stood and watched, his breath visible in the cold. His presence was both comforting and a little worrying.
Niels jogged over between drills, keeping his voice low. "You alright, boss?"
Milan gave a small, tired smile. "Just needed a slow start. Don't let me throw you off."
"You sure?"
"I'm still the coach," Milan said quietly but firmly. "You're doing a good job, Niels. Keep them focused."
Niels nodded, but Milan's words stayed with him.
There was something unspoken in Milan's tone not giving up yet, but slowly letting go.
Milan went back to the midfielders, shouting instructions and telling Luka to pass faster.
But Niels couldn't stop thinking about Milan's tired eyes and the way his shoulders seemed weighed down by more than just tiredness.
Niels pushed through the drills, but his focus kept drifting back to Milan.
The coach's usual fire was dimmed, replaced by a quiet struggle no one else seemed to notice yet.
The team moved with energy, but Niels felt the pressure building not just to lead on the pitch, but to watch over Milan too.
As the session wrapped up, Niels caught Milan's eye.
There was a brief nod a small, silent understanding between them.
Neither said much, but in that moment, Niels knew the real test was just beginning.
That afternoon, after the players left and the kit staff packed up, Niels found Milan alone in the video room.
The Aldershot match played on the screen Luka's deep run, pulling defenders, then a perfect pass to Dev.
The calm finish from Simons. 1-1.
"That goal was yours," Milan said quietly, eyes on the screen. "Dropping Luka deeper that was your call. I wouldn't have caught it."
"You would have," Niels replied, pulling up a chair. "You just needed a moment to see it."
Milan chuckled softly, but it sounded tired, like it hurt to laugh. "Maybe. But you saw it first. That's what counts." He paused the video, fingers trembling on the remote. "You're stepping up faster than I thought."
Milan's words carried pride, but also a hint of something darker tiredness, maybe even fear of losing his edge.
Niels didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet. The projector hummed, and the silence between them felt full of meaning.
On Tuesday, Milan showed up from the start but kept his distance. He gave short orders, letting Niels lead the tactical drills.
The team responded well Luka's quick feet shone during rondos, and Jamal Osei kept things steady, his calm voice guiding the younger players.
After the session, Luka pulled Niels aside, his voice low and serious.
"Is Coach Milan okay?" Luka asked quietly.
"He's hanging in there," Niels said, glancing over at Milan. He was sitting on the bench, writing notes slowly, his face focused but tense. "He'll get through this."
"You're taking on more," Luka said, nodding with respect. "And it's working, boss."
"I'm just doing my part," Niels replied. But Luka's look felt like a quiet vote of confidence, a small warmth in the cold.
Thursday brought a quick coffee with Richard, the club's director, in his messy office filled with papers.
"He's not done yet," Richard said carefully, like walking on eggshells. "But we're watching. You've been running training, Niels. People notice."
"I'm not trying to push him out," Niels said, heart pounding but voice steady.
"We never thought that," Richard replied, sipping his coffee calmly. "Milan knows it too. Just be ready. Change happens quietly, but it makes a big impact."
Niels nodded, feeling the weight of the warning, a change everyone sensed but no one talked about.
By Friday, Milan was back in charge, his voice sharp during drills.
He even pulled Simons aside to adjust his runs, showing flashes of his usual fire.
But it was clear he was struggling his face was tight, his steps slower, like he was fighting to keep going.
After training, Niels found him alone.
"Rest tomorrow," Niels said calmly. "Let me take over."
Milan looked at him, eyes narrowing with a hint of stubbornness. "I'm not stepping down yet."
"I'm not asking you to," Niels said gently. "Just take a break. You've earned it."
Milan hesitated, then nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing a little. "We'll see."
Saturday morning was foggy and cold as the team finished their final walkthrough for the match against Chesterfield a quick, physical side.
Niels had stayed up late watching tape, sure Crawley could catch them on the break.
Milan led the pre-match talk, his voice rough but steady, keeping it short. His eyes were sharp but tired, like he was running on his last bit of energy.
As the players left, Milan turned to Niels. "You ready to take over?"
Niels smiled a little, feeling steady inside. "Always, boss."
Milan gave a faint, warm smile the same man who had given Niels this chance. "Good."
They walked out together, side by side, as the crowd's noise grew beyond the gates.
In the dugout before kickoff, Niels stood taller, giving instructions and shouting orders over the roar.
Milan sat back, hands clasped, watching the pitch quietly. His presence was still there, strong but fading.
During a pause, Milan leaned in and said quietly, "If your plan works, you take the credit. If it doesn't, we share the blame."
Niels nodded, feeling a quiet determination. "Deal."
There was no big announcement or fanfare just a small, important shift.
The torch hadn't fully passed yet, but it was closer to Niels' hands.
Its steady warmth gave him the confidence to lead Crawley through whatever came next.
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