Halftime, Elland Road.
Leeds United 0 - 0 West Bromwich Albion.
The dressing room walls at Elland Road were painted white, but the air inside felt hot and tense.
"We are surviving!" Julian Vance paced the center of the room. "We are not playing! We are waiting for them to score!"
He slammed his hand on the tactical board.
"They are leaving gaps behind their full-backs, but we are too slow to take advantage. We win the ball, and we look sideways. Why?"
Vance turned to Ethan, who sat with a towel over his head, breathing steadily. He was not exhausted; he was focused.
"Ethan," Vance said. "You are winning your duels. But now I need you to make an impact. Don't just stop the attack. Start the battle."
Ethan pulled off the towel. "Understood."
Mitch Evans sat in the corner, chewing a fingernail. He didn't say anything. His silence spoke louder than any shout.
Second Half. Kickoff.
Leeds came out with renewed energy. The "Elland Road Roar" reached a fever pitch.
52nd Minute.
Disaster struck.
A West Brom defender slipped while clearing the ball. The Leeds winger seized the moment, driving to the byline and cutting it back.
The Leeds striker tapped it in from six yards.
GOAL.
Leeds United 1 - 0 West Brom.
The stadium erupted. The noise felt physical—a wave of sound crashing down on the pitch.
Ethan glanced at his teammates. Heads dropped. Shoulders slumped. This was a team used to losing important games—a team still fragile from their playoff failure.
Ethan clapped his hands. Crack. Crack. Crack.
"Get the ball!" he shouted, sprinting into the net to retrieve it. "Heads up! We go again!"
He shoved the ball into Liam Thorne's chest. "Lead them, Skip!"
65th Minute.
West Brom began to falter. Leeds sensed blood and pushed for another goal.
Ethan received the ball deep in his own half. Two Leeds midfielders closed in on him.
The old Ethan would have looked for a safe pass back to the keeper.
But the new Ethan didn't see safety. He saw a challenge.
He shielded the ball, taking a hip check from the first player. He spun away.
The second player lunged.
Ethan poked the ball through the gap and jumped over the tackle.
He found himself in open space. The midfield had opened up.
"Drive!" Vance yelled.
Ethan took off. He covered 30 yards in four seconds. The Leeds defense backpedaled, afraid to commit.
Ethan spotted Jaden Kalu making a run on the left.
Ethan played the pass. It was more than just a pass; it was an invitation.
Kalu didn't break stride. He collected it, cut inside, and curled a shot into the far corner.
GOAL.
1-1.
Ethan didn't celebrate. He pointed at Kalu. "That's the run! Keep making that run!"
78th Minute.
The game turned into a back-and-forth battle.
Ethan was tiring. The intensity of the Championship was non-stop compared to the halting nature of the National League. His lungs burned.
But his knee? It felt strong.
A loose ball popped up in midfield. It was a 50/50.
The Leeds captain—a 6ft 2in enforcer—charged for it.
Ethan charged for it too.
The crowd held its breath.
Ethan launched himself, not recklessly but with full commitment. He won the ball in the air, his shoulder colliding with the Leeds captain's chest.
The captain went down. Ethan landed on his feet.
"Play on!" the referee signaled.
Ethan looked at the fallen giant.
Riverton sends its regards.
88th Minute.
1-1. A draw would be a decent result, but it wouldn't save Vance.
West Brom won a corner.
"Last chance!" Thorne shouted. "Everyone up!"
Ethan lingered on the edge of the box—the "trash" position. Waiting for the clearance.
The corner came in. A Leeds defender headed it out.
The ball fell from the sky, twenty yards from goal.
It bounced awkwardly.
Ethan adjusted his feet.
He heard the cry of "SHOOT!" from the away end.
He remembered Mick Harrigan's voice in his head: Show them you're a wolf.
He didn't aim. He didn't try to finesse it.
He struck through the ball with his laces—a "Riverton Thump."
The connection was clean.
The ball stayed low, zipping through a crowd of legs.
It took a small deflection off a defender's heel—just enough to throw off the keeper.
It smashed into the bottom left corner.
GOAL.
1-2 West Brom.
Ethan didn't run. He just stood there, arms spread, soaking in the quiet of the home fans and the joy of the away end.
His teammates swarmed him. Thorne tackled him to the ground. Demir kissed his head.
"You beautiful maniac!" Thorne yelled.
Full Time.
Leeds United 1 - 2 West Bromwich Albion.
The final whistle blew.
Ethan lay on the grass for a moment, staring at the floodlights.
He had done it. He had come back.
He stood up.
Julian Vance walked onto the pitch and went straight to Ethan.
He didn't smile. He just gripped Ethan's hand and pulled him in for a brief, intense hug.
"You saved us," Vance whispered.
"Just doing my job, boss."
As they walked off, Ethan looked at the bench.
Mitch Evans was putting on his coat. He looked at Ethan.
There was no anger in Evans's eyes anymore, just resignation. He knew the torch had been passed.
Monday, January 4th. 10:00 AM. The Physio Room.
Ethan lay on the treatment table, getting a massage on his hamstrings.
Ben Garner walked in with a tablet.
"Stats are in," Garner announced.
Distance Covered: 11.8km
Duels Won: 14/16 (87%)
Goals: 1
Assists: 1
"Not bad for a 'risk,'" Ethan smirked.
Garner set the tablet down.
"Vance is in a meeting with the Board right now. That win bought him time. Maybe the whole season."
Garner leaned against the wall.
"But there's news from Riverton."
Ethan sat up. "What happened?"
"They lost yesterday, 2-0 against Wrexham. Harrigan gave an interview."
Garner played the video.
Mick Harrigan stood in the rain, looking miserable.
Reporter: "Mick, the playoff push seems to have stalled. What's missing?"
Harrigan: "What's missing? The heart is missing. We lost Matthews. You can't replace a kid like that. He was the glue. Now we're just broken pieces again."
Ethan watched the screen and felt a pang of guilt.
"I abandoned them," Ethan murmured.
"You graduated," Garner corrected. "That's football. You climb the ladder. You don't look down."
Garner tapped the table.
"Next game is Saturday. FA Cup Third Round. We drew a Premier League team."
Ethan's eyes widened. "Who?"
"Manchester United," Garner smiled. "Old Trafford. Away."
Ethan lay back down.
Old Trafford. The Theatre of Dreams.
A year ago, he watched them on TV from a hospital bed.
Six months ago, he played on a frozen pitch in Gateshead.
On Saturday, he would walk out at the biggest club in the world.
"I'll be ready," Ethan said.