Chapter 7: Under Pressure
The excitement of Crawley Town's FA Cup run had started to fade, replaced by the tough, week-in, week-out reality of League Two.
Every game felt more important now, the pressure growing, like a cold wind cutting through the team's fragile confidence.
Promotion wasn't just a hope anymore, it was an expectation.
You could hear it in the chants from the stands, see it in the tense looks on the players' faces.
But that belief brought its own challenge.
Other teams no longer saw Crawley as just another match.
They saw a chance to bring down the underdogs who were starting to believe they belonged at the top.
Tuesday's training was intense.
The sharp sound of boots hitting the ball echoed around the worn-out metal stands.
Niels stood next to Milan, arms crossed, watching the team work hard through passing drills.
Their breath showed in the chilly November air, and their laughter mixed with the sound of the ball.
Luka Radev moved quickly through cones, his feet almost a blur, while Jamal Osei shouted instructions, keeping everything organized.
"Move it, guys! Quick passes!" Milan's voice cut through, strong as always.
But Niels noticed a small shake in his hand as he tugged his jacket, and a flash of pain crossed his worn face then it was gone.
They had a big game coming up against Aldershot Town, a team that had suddenly started playing well.
Crawley couldn't afford to slip up, not with the league standings tightening.
A couple of bad results could send them right back into the fight to avoid relegation.
"Luka, hold the ball, pull them in, then break through!" Niels called out, his voice clear and steady as he took charge. Milan's orders were getting quieter, his strength fading.
Niels felt more confident, but also more worried, he couldn't ignore the shadow that Milan's failing health cast over the team.
Milan caught Niels' eye as Luka made a perfect pass, drawing cheers from the team.
They shared a small, quiet nod a silent moment full of trust.
Niels felt the weight of leadership settle in his chest.
It wasn't something he had wanted, but now he couldn't turn away from it.
Thursday's training felt heavier.
Milan sank onto the bench, his face pale and sweaty despite the cold air.
Niels rushed over, heart pounding, but Milan shook him off, jaw tight, eyes burning with stubborn pride. "Keep going," he said, his whistle cutting through the air and pulling the players back to work.
The session ended early.
Milan's team talk was short and shaky, and he left quickly, leaving the players exchanging worried looks behind him.
Matchday had arrived.
Broadfield Stadium was full of red and white, and the air was thick with hope and nerves.
In the tunnel, the players' boots tapped on the concrete.
Their faces were serious and focused.
Niels and Milan stood on the touchline as the crowd's chants washed over them. Niels looked at Milan and saw that he looked tired and worn from the season.
But Milan stood tall, determined not to show weakness, even though he held his ribs and struggled to breathe.
Kickoff:
The whistle blew, and Crawley pushed forward, pressing hard. Luka Radev moved skillfully in midfield, sending quick passes through tight spaces and switching the play with confidence that fired up the crowd.
Max Simons and Dev Patel raced down the sides, stretching Aldershot's defense and driving the ball into the ground.
For ten exciting minutes, Crawley was in control.
The fans cheered loudly, scarves waved, and a young boy near the front held up a Red Devils banner, smiling wide.
But football can be harsh.
In the 14th minute, Liam McCulloch's clearance went wrong, sending the ball straight into danger.
Aldershot's striker took advantage, one touch, then fired a low shot past Adam Fletcher.
0-1.
The stadium went quiet, except for the away fans shouting insults that cut through the cold air.
"Damn it," Niels muttered, pacing with a heavy heart.
He looked at Milan, who stood still, his face blank, hand pressed to his ribs, breathing shallow, pain clear in his tight lips.
Niels called Luka over during a throw-in. "Drop back a bit. Let them push forward, then hit them fast. Simons and Dev, stay wide. Tear their defense apart."
Luka nodded and sprinted back.
The plan worked. Crawley pulled back, absorbing pressure and striking hard on the counterattack.
In the 36th minute, Tom Whitehall's strong tackle started a break. Luka's perfect pass found Dev, who outran his defender and crossed the ball.
Simons arrived just in time and calmly finished, placing the ball in the far corner.
1-1. Crawley equalized.
The crowd erupted, and Niels pumped his fist.
He looked over at Milan, who gave a faint smile and a slow clap. "Smart call," Milan whispered, his voice weak.
His hand trembled as he leaned against the dugout.
The second half turned into a tough battle. Aldershot came at them hard, winning fights in midfield and forcing mistakes.
Crawley's defense stood strong McCulloch and Harry Thompson cleared every header, and Jamal stayed steady as a shield in front.
Niels shouted louder, moving players around and pushing them forward, while Milan stayed quiet, grimacing and holding his side.
Every wince felt like a pain in Niels' own heart.
In the 72nd minute, a mix-up between Callum Haines and Fletcher almost gave Aldershot a chance, but Osei's desperate slide blocked the shot. The crowd roared in relief.
In the 81st minute, Luka passed to Simons, who fired a low shot, but the keeper tipped it wide.
The stands groaned together.
Then, in the 89th minute, Reece Darby's long throw was flicked on by Leo Morley.
Max Simons struck the ball cleanly, but Aldershot's keeper made a stunning full-stretch save.
The crowd gasped, hope still alive.
Four minutes of added time.
Aldershot's No. 10 curled a shot toward the top corner, but Jamal threw himself in front.
The block sent him sprawling, pain clear on his face.
Seconds later, the whistle blew.
Fulltime: Crawley Town 1-1 Aldershot.
Not the win they wanted, but a hard-earned point, won through sweat and determination.
As the players shook hands and fans slowly left, Niels looked at Milan.
His mentor's face was pale and tired, his hand trembling as he zipped up his jacket, breathing unevenly.
"You alright?" Niels asked quietly, a knot of worry tightening in his chest.
Milan stared at the pitch, breathing slow and steady, eyes far away. "I'm fine," he said, voice flat. "The doctor's taking care of it."
But as Milan walked toward the tunnel, his steps shaky and shoulders heavy, Niels knew it wasn't true.
Whatever was wrong was eating away at him.
With another game coming soon, the weight of Crawley's dreams was shifting onto Niels' shoulders.
He stood alone on the touchline, the empty stands around him, his heart heavy with the fear of having to lead if Milan couldn't.
He thought of Milan's trust in him, the chance he'd been given, and wondered if he was ready to step up to lead and keep Crawley's fire alive through the hard times ahead.
If you enjoyed the chapter, please consider dropping a Power Stone! Your support means a lot and really motivates me to keep writing. Thank you! 💖