As the Apex United players stepped out of the tunnel, the wall of sound hit them like a physical force.
The roar was immense, a chaotic symphony of hope and excitement from 40,000 virtual fans who had been born into existence with an undying love for a club that was only minutes old.
"Bloody hell," muttered Josh Sargent, the American striker, his eyes wide as he scanned the sea of blue and white.
"This is a bit much for a friendly, isn’t it?"
Grant Hanley, his captain’s armband worn with grim pride, didn’t even look at him. His gaze was fixed forward.
"There’s no such thing as a friendly. Not today. Stay focused."
Nearby, Gabriel Sara, the Brazilian midfielder, simply chuckled, a cool, easy smile on his face. He juggled the ball from his heel to his knee as he walked.
"Relax, Grant. This is what we play for, no? The noise, the people. It is beautiful."
He winked at a young winger.
"Just make sure you track back, yeah?"
Emre Demir said nothing. He walked at the back of the line, his head on a swivel. He wasn’t just looking at the crowd; he was absorbing the geometry of the pitch, the positions of his teammates, the space between the opposition’s defenders
. He was processing it all, his young mind a supercomputer running a thousand pre-match calculations.
Ethan watched them from his technical area, his heart thumping a frantic rhythm against his ribs. They looked like giants under the floodlights.
The commentator’s voice, smooth and professional, echoed through the stadium, narrating the historic moment.
"A very warm welcome to The Apex for what is a truly special occasion! The first-ever match for the newly formed Apex United, who look absolutely superb in their royal blue home kits with the crisp white trim. They face a stern test today against Mark Hughes’s Bradford City, themselves looking sharp in their traditional claret and amber."
The referee’s whistle blew, sharp and clear. The match was underway.
"And we’re off! Apex United, attacking from right to left in this first half. The ball is played back to the captain, Grant Hanley, wearing number 5. He sprays a pass out wide to the left-back, number 3, Dimitris Giannoulis..."
The first ten minutes were a blur of controlled chaos. Ethan’s philosophy, drilled into them for a single, intense session, was immediately on display.
They didn’t give Bradford a second on the ball. The moment a claret and amber shirt received a pass, a blue shirt was on them, snapping at their heels.
"Push up! Squeeze them!" Hanley’s voice barked from the back, a general marshalling his troops.
"Kenny, Kenny, shoulder!" Gabriel Sara called out, alerting his midfield partner, Kenny McLean, to an incoming opponent.
It was working. Bradford looked rattled, their passes hurried and imprecise. Ethan stood on the edge of his technical area, a conductor leading his orchestra. He wasn’t screaming wildly; his instructions were sharp, concise.
"Shift right, Gabe! Close that lane!" "Josh, trigger the press! Go!"
In the 14th minute, it paid off. A sloppy pass from a Bradford midfielder was pounced upon by McLean. He didn’t hesitate, playing a first-time ball forward to Gabriel Sara.
The Brazilian took one sublime touch to kill the ball dead, looked up, and saw the run of his winger.
He threaded a perfect, defense-splitting pass into the channel. The winger latched onto it, cut inside, and unleashed a powerful shot aimed at the far corner.
The Bradford keeper, at full stretch, managed to get a strong hand to it, tipping it around the post for a corner.
The Apex crowd roared its approval, a collective gasp of excitement followed by a wave of applause for the effort.
Ethan clapped his hands above his head.
"Good! That’s it! Keep that intensity!"
Across the pitch, Mark Hughes watched with a thoughtful expression, a slight frown on his face. He had expected a disjointed, newly-formed team.
This was something else entirely. This was organized, aggressive, and relentless.
Now, Emre Demir started to come alive. For the first fifteen minutes, he had been quiet, playing simple, one-touch passes, feeling his way into the game.
In the 19th minute, he dropped deep to offer an option. A Bradford midfielder came charging in to close him down, expecting the teenager to panic.
Emre saw him coming. Just as the player lunged in, Emre rolled his studs over the top of the ball, dragging it back and spinning in one fluid motion, leaving the defender tackling thin air. The crowd let out an appreciative
"Ooooh!" He then glided forward into the space he’d created and laid off another simple, intelligent pass. It wasn’t flashy, but it was a sign of supreme confidence and awareness. Hanley saw it from the back and gave a subtle, approving nod.
Then, in the 22nd minute, history was made.
The move started with Angus Gunn, the goalkeeper, who rolled the ball out to his right-back. A few quick passes in midfield drew the Bradford press forward, creating space behind them. Gabriel Sara, seeing the shift, played a sharp, vertical pass towards Josh Sargent.
The striker, with a defender tight on his back, cleverly let the ball run across his body and cushioned a perfect layoff with the inside of his foot, right into the path of the onrushing Emre Demir.
The teenager didn’t break his stride. He took one touch with his right foot to push the ball just ahead of him, setting up the angle.
He was twenty-two yards from goal. The world seemed to slow down. Ethan held his breath.
Emre struck the ball. It wasn’t a thunderbolt. It was a thing of pure technique. He wrapped his left foot around it, generating incredible whip.
The ball started outside the post, curling viciously back inwards, evading the desperate dive of the goalkeeper before nestling itself perfectly into the bottom right-hand corner of the net.
For a moment, there was a stunned silence, followed by an absolute eruption. The stadium exploded.
"OH, MY WORD! WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT! THE FIRST GOAL IN THE HISTORY OF APEX UNITED, AND IT’S AN ABSOLUTE JEWEL FROM THE TURKISH WONDERKID, EMRE DEMIR! A STAR IS BORN AT THE APEX! SIMPLY MAGNIFICENT!"
The players mobbed Emre, who looked almost shocked, a wide, disbelieving grin on his face. Sargent lifted him into the air. Hanley ruffled his hair with a rare smile.
In the dugout, Ethan allowed himself a single, sharp pump of his fist. He turned to James Pearce, a brilliant, ecstatic light in his eyes. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novel★fire.net
"That’s why he starts, James. That’s why."
Stung by the goal, Bradford City came roaring back. Mark Hughes was on his feet, urging his players on. They forced Apex back, winning a corner in the 28th minute. The delivery was a dangerous, in-swinging ball aimed at their towering center-back.
"Keeper’s ball!" Gunn shouted, but he was caught in traffic.
The Bradford player rose high, heading the ball down powerfully towards the goal. It was destined for the net, but Grant Hanley, reading the danger perfectly, had positioned himself on the line and chested the ball down before hooking it clear. It was a vital, old-fashioned piece of defending.
Apex cleared their lines and regained possession. The ball was worked to Gabriel Sara in the center circle. He turned, looking to start another attack.
Just as he did, a Bradford midfielder, frustrated and late, slid in, catching him hard on the ankle.
The whistle blew instantly.
Sara went down in a heap, clutching his left ankle, his face contorted in pain. The game stopped. The roar of the crowd was replaced by a wave of anxious, hushed murmurs.
Ethan’s heart leaped into his throat. The elation of the goal vanished, replaced by a cold, sickening dread. He took a step onto the pitch, his eyes locked on his fallen playmaker, his mind racing with the worst-case scenarios.