The bus ride to Westford was uncomfortably quiet. This game was not just any game; it was first place versus third. Westford was disciplined and strong and like Riverton, had only one loss all season. This match would decide the title, making it the worst time for Crestwood's star striker to be in the middle of a personal crisis.
Ethan could feel the tension coming from Callum. He sat alone with his headphones on, staring blankly out the window. The news of Ethan's West Brom deal hung over the team, and the "scramble" Mason had mentioned was clear.
In the away changing room, Coach Shaw spoke in clipped, direct sentences. "Westford is third for a reason," he said, scanning the room and pausing for a moment on Callum. "They are the most disciplined team in this league. They don't make mistakes, and they will punish ours. I don't care who is in the stands. I don't care about contracts or your futures. I care about the next ninety minutes. We play as a team, or we lose. Period."
The match began, and it quickly became a tense, high stakes contest. Westford's defense was well-organized and strong. Crestwood's attacks, once fluid, were now disjointed and predictable.
The issue was clear. Callum was playing for himself.
In the 20th minute, Ethan drew two defenders and slid a perfect pass to Callum in open space. The play was simple, either a one-two or a pass to the overlapping winger. Instead, Callum, looking down, tried to dribble through three players and lost the ball immediately.
"Move the ball, Cal!" Mason shouted from the midfield.
Ten minutes later, it happened again. Ethan created space and passed to Callum. Instead of laying it off, Callum took a wild shot from thirty yards that flew harmlessly into the stands. He glanced at the sideline as if to see who was watching.
Frustration grew. Then, in the 42nd minute, the inevitable occurred. Callum received a pass in the midfield, ignored an open Ethan, and attempted a flashy turn to get past his defender. The defender read it, stepped in, and took the ball away.
The counter-attack was blisteringly quick. Westford's players surged forward against a disorganized Crestwood. Two passes later, their striker found himself one-on-one and calmly finished. 1-0 Westford.
Callum stood frozen, hands on his head, as the home crowd erupted. The whistle for halftime blew shortly after.
The changing room was deathly silent as the players filed in. Callum slumped onto the bench, avoiding everyone's gaze. Coach Shaw entered, his face a mask of cold anger. He didn't raise his voice. He went straight to his whiteboard, picked up a marker, and crossed Callum's name off the starting lineup.
"Reid," he said in a dangerously quiet voice. "Get your kit off. You're done." Callum's head snapped up, shock and disbelief written on his face. "What? Coach, I..." "You're playing for yourself, ignoring your teammates, and just cost us a goal in the biggest match of the season," Shaw said, his voice slicing through the room. "Worrying about your future has benched you. You're not part of this team right now. Get changed."
He pointed to a substitute forward. "Ryan, you're on. Hold the ball up and pass it."
The second half began, and though shaken, the team changed. With a hardworking forward up top, their play returned to fluidity. They worked together. Ethan and Mason stepped up to handle the creative load.
They fought for an equalizer, their play desperate but united. In the 75th minute, Ethan got the ball, beat his defender, and slid a perfect pass to the new forward, who laid it back for Mason. Mason's shot was blocked, but the rebound fell to Ethan, who calmly side-footed the ball into the net, seeing the keeper out of position.
1-1. Ethan grabbed the ball, his face set with determination, and sprinted back to the center circle.
They pushed for a winner, but by then, the damage was done. The game ended 1-1. They had lost two important points in the title race.
In the silent changing room, the team was exhausted. Callum was already in his tracksuit, sitting alone, staring at the floor, his face pale. Ethan and Mason sat down on the bench across from him. There was no anger left, just a heavy sadness.
"You see now?" Mason said, his voice rough. "You try to force it, you get nothing. You play for yourself, you get benched." He leaned forward. "You're better than this, Cal. You're our top striker, and you made yourself useless. Fix it."
Callum didn't look up. He just pulled his hood over his head, a solitary figure in a room full of teammates.