The 1-0 win over Harrington, and more importantly, Callum's redemption, had brought the team together. The dressing room was no longer just a group of individuals worried about their own futures; it had become a united front, focused on the five-game countdown to the league title.
But for Ethan, the next match was a personal challenge: Eastfield, away.
It was his homecoming, but it felt very different from his last visit as a U14. Back then, he was the local star. Now, he was the kid who had signed for West Brom, a certified success story, and the town's pride.
The build-up during the week was overwhelming. His phone buzzed constantly with messages from old school friends he hadn't heard from in months. They all wanted to know if he was starting and insisted, "You'd better score for us!" The front page of the Eastfield Gazette featured a picture of him from his childhood team next to his new Crestwood photo, with the headline "THE HERO RETURNS."
When the team bus arrived at the familiar, slightly rundown parking lot of the Eastfield ground, a crowd was already there. This wasn't the usual handful of parents; dozens of people were waiting, kids from his old school holding signs, and familiar local faces. They were not there to support Eastfield, they came to see him. They cheered as he stepped off the bus, chanting, "Matthews! Matthews!"
In the cramped away changing room, Coach Shaw ignored the noise. "It's a circus out there," he said flatly. "They're not here to watch a football match. They're here for a parade. Eastfield knows it. They have nothing to play for but pride, and there is no greater pride than shutting down the local hero on his home turf. They will be more physical, more aggressive, and more motivated than any team we've faced. Don't let the noise get to you."
The moment Ethan stepped onto the pitch for warm-up, the noise was deafening. He tried to focus, but he could see his old neighbors waving and Mr. Davies, his history teacher, giving him a thumbs-up from the sideline.
The Eastfield players, his old childhood friends and rivals, were not smiling. They lined up in the tunnel, and their captain, a boy he had played with for five years, gave him a hard, cold stare.
From the first whistle, it was like Linton all over again, but worse. This was personal. The second Ethan received the ball, a defender hacked him down, snarling, "Not in our house, superstar." The entire Eastfield team played with a furious, desperate energy, motivated by the crowd's attention on their old teammate.
Crestwood was rattled. They were the league leaders, but it felt like a hostile cup final. Every pass was hurried, every shot off target. With everyone watching, Ethan tried to do too much. He forced the tricky pass and aimed for the spectacular solo goal everyone wanted to see. He was playing for the crowd, not for his team.
At halftime, the score was still 0-0. As they left the pitch, an old friend's dad clapped him on the back. "Come on, Ethan! Give us something special!"
In the changing room, Coach Shaw let them have it. "Pathetic! You're letting a team with one point dictate this game! And you," he jabbed a finger at Ethan, "are the worst of the lot. You're playing like this is your personal show. This isn't your parade! This is a league match, and we're losing the title! Get your head sorted out!"
Ethan came out for the second half, his face set in anger. He was done being the town's hero. He just wanted to win.
He stopped searching for the spectacular and became the decoy. He made the unglamorous runs, drawing the focused Eastfield defenders out of position. He played simple, smart passes.
In the 70th minute, it paid off. He made a run to the wing, pulling two defenders with him. Space opened up. Mason charged into it, played a one-two with Callum, and was fouled in the box. A clear penalty.
Mason, the designated penalty-taker, picked up the ball. Then a shout came from Callum. "No. Give it to him." Mason looked between Callum and Ethan. "It's your town, Eastfield," he said, handing Ethan the ball. "Finish it."
Ethan's heart raced. The entire crowd fell silent. This was the moment they had all been waiting for, but it felt incredibly intense. He placed the ball on the spot, the goal seeming to shrink. The Eastfield keeper, a boy he had gone to primary school with, stared him down.
He took a deep breath, thinking of West Brom, Coach Shaw, and his teammates. He blocked out the noise, stepped up, and calmly slotted the ball into the bottom left corner.
The stadium erupted, a strange but united roar of Eastfield fans celebrating an away goal. Ethan grabbed the ball and sprinted back to the center circle. The game ended 1-0. It was ugly, stressful, and one of the hardest wins of the season.
As he walked off, exhausted, he saw Mr. Davies. The teacher wasn't cheering. He was just nodding, his face showing deep, respectful appreciation. Ethan had given them something special. Not a flashy goal, but a lesson in how to win.