Momentum never announces when it's about to test you.
It waits.
Ethan felt it on Tuesday morning, halfway through warm-ups, when his right calf tightened unexpectedly. Not a sharp pain—nothing dramatic. Just a warning. A quiet resistance where there shouldn't have been one.
He slowed slightly, rolling his ankle, stretching casually.
The system reacted immediately.
[Physical Alert: Minor Muscle Tightness]
[Severity: Low]
[Recommendation: Load Management]
Ethan ignored the suggestion.
Not fully. Just enough.
He finished the session. Completed the drills. Didn't complain.
At this level, players didn't miss training unless they had to.
And Ethan didn't think he had to.
By Wednesday, the noise had shifted again.
This time, it wasn't praise.
It was curiosity.
Ethan heard it in passing comments—staff conversations cut short, journalists lingering longer than usual. Even fans outside the ground seemed more focused.
"Any truth in the Championship interest?" one shouted as Ethan walked past the gate.
Ethan didn't respond.
The system logged it anyway.
[External Pressure: Transfer Speculation]
[Risk: Cognitive Distraction]
Inside the dressing room, Jordan Graham raised an eyebrow.
"You're getting scouted now," he said.
Ethan shrugged. "Everyone gets scouted."
"Yeah," Jordan replied, tying his boots. "But not everyone gets watched."
Craig Clay leaned over.
"Just remember—interest doesn't mean intent. And intent doesn't mean anything unless the gaffer says it does."
Ethan nodded.
Football first.
Always.
Thursday afternoon, Coach Richie Wellens called Ethan into his office.
No clipboard.
No raised voice.
Just honesty.
"Sit," Wellens said.
Ethan did.
"You've played a lot of minutes," Wellens continued. "And you've earned them. But I need to know—how's the body?"
Ethan hesitated.
Not long.
"Fine," he said. "Just normal fatigue."
Wellens studied him carefully.
"Normal fatigue turns into missed games if you're not careful."
The system pulsed sharply.
[Decision Point: Transparency vs Opportunity]
Ethan met the manager's gaze.
"I can play this weekend."
"Wellens leaned back slightly. "That wasn't the question."
Silence stretched.
Then Wellens nodded.
"Alright. But we manage you. Sixty, maybe seventy. Don't be a hero."
Ethan nodded. "Understood."
As he stood to leave, Wellens added quietly,
"You're doing well. Don't let momentum bully you."
That line stayed with him.
That evening, Ethan sat on his couch, calf iced, lights low.
His phone buzzed.
McKenna Grace:
You okay? You've been quieter this week.
Ethan frowned slightly.
Ethan Cole:
That obvious?
A pause.
McKenna Grace:
Only if you know what to listen for.
The system chimed softly.
[Emotional Awareness: External Detected]
Ethan typed slowly.
Ethan Cole:
Just a lot happening. Nothing bad. Just… louder.
Several seconds passed.
McKenna Grace:
Loud doesn't mean wrong. But it can drown out the important parts.
Ethan exhaled.
Ethan Cole:
Football doesn't really allow quiet moments.
McKenna Grace:
Neither does acting. That's why you protect the small ones.
Ethan stared at the screen.
Then typed one last message.
Ethan Cole:
Guess I'm still learning how.
She didn't reply immediately.
And that was okay.
Saturday arrived colder than usual.
Leyton Orient faced Colchester United away—local rivals, tight pitch, unforgiving crowd. The kind of game where rhythm mattered more than flair.
Ethan started.
As promised.
The system confirmed it.
[Match Role: Starter – Limited Load]
[Physical Risk: Managed]
From kickoff, Ethan felt it.
His legs weren't slow.
They were heavy.
Every sprint cost more than it should.
He adjusted instinctively—shorter bursts, smarter positioning, earlier releases.
In the twelfth minute, he slipped a clean pass into the channel. In the twentieth, he tracked back to block a cross.
But something was missing.
Sharpness.
The system noticed.
[Physical Output: Slightly Reduced]
[Compensation Strategy: Tactical Efficiency]
It happened in the thirty-first minute.
A simple receive-and-release near the halfway line. Ethan took an extra touch—just one.
Colchester pressed instantly.
The ball was nicked away.
Counterattack.
Shot.
Goal.
1–0.
The stadium erupted.
Ethan stood still for half a second too long.
The system flared.
[Critical Error: Decision Delay]
[Immediate Response Required]
He clapped his hands sharply and sprinted back to position.
But the damage was done.
In the dressing room, silence hung heavy.
Wellens spoke calmly.
"That one's on us," he said. "Not just one man."
But his eyes met Ethan's briefly.
Not accusatory.
Assessing.
"Second half," Wellens continued, "we respond. Ethan—keep it simple. We'll get you off if needed."
Ethan nodded, jaw tight.
He hated that part.
The second half was survival football.
Ethan focused on retention. One-touch passes. Supporting runs. Defensive discipline.
In the fifty-eighth minute, he made a crucial interception that stopped a second goal.
The away fans applauded.
Not loudly.
But meaningfully.
In the sixty-fourth minute, Wellens made the call.
"Cole!" he shouted. "On you come!"
Substitution board flashed.
Ethan jogged off, disappointment sharp but controlled.
Jordan Graham came on and squeezed his shoulder.
"Head up," Jordan said. "Happens to everyone."
Ethan nodded.
The system logged it.
[Substitution: Load Management]
[Mental State: Stable]
Ten minutes later, Leyton Orient equalized.
A scrappy goal from a corner.
1–1.
Ethan clapped from the bench, relief washing through him.
The match ended in a draw.
Again.
But this one felt heavier.
Back in the dressing room, Wellens approached Ethan quietly.
"You did the right thing coming off," he said. "Don't confuse one mistake with regression."
Ethan nodded. "I know."
"Wellens added, "The next test is how you respond this week."
That mattered more than anything else.
That night, Ethan didn't check his phone immediately.
He showered. Ate. Stretched.
Then he looked.
A message waited.
McKenna Grace:
I watched the highlights. Rough moment—but you didn't disappear.
Ethan smiled faintly.
Ethan Cole:
Didn't feel great.
McKenna Grace:
It rarely does. But setbacks show you where the floor is.
Ethan considered that.
Ethan Cole:
Guess today showed me mine.
A pause.
McKenna Grace:
Floors aren't failures. They're reference points.
The system pulsed softly.
[Perspective Alignment: Improved]
Ethan put the phone down and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
Momentum had finally wobbled.
Not broken.
Just tested.
And somehow, that made everything clearer.
End of Chapter 9
Author's Comment
Chapter 9 introduces the first real wobble.
Not a collapse. Not a dramatic injury. Just the kind of moment every long career faces—fatigue, pressure, a small mistake magnified by expectation.
This chapter is about response, not results.
The romance remains intentionally restrained. McKenna isn't a distraction or a savior—she's a mirror. Someone who understands pressure without needing to fix it.
Football is still the core.
Growth is rarely linear.
📅 Update Schedule: 1 chapter daily
✍️ Target Length: 1,500+ words minimum
⚽ Arc: Momentum → wobble → adaptation
❤️ Romance: Slow-burn, grounded, earned