England's Greatest-Chapter 120: First Europa League Game

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.....

The next morning, the Leicester City squad and coaching staff boarded their chartered flight to Warsaw, setting off on their long-awaited Europa League journey.

For many of the players, this would be their first taste of European competition—a momentous occasion, given that Leicester hadn't played in Europe in 53 years. Spirits were high, and the mood on the plane was a mix of excitement and nerves.

Tristan, seated next to Mahrez, stretched out his legs and adjusted his seatbelt. Across the aisle, Vardy and Danny were already chatting up, their voices carrying over the low chatter.

"I can't believe we're actually in Europe," Vardy said, shaking his head in amusement. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"

Drinkwater nodded. "Yeah, but it's about time. We earned this."

Mahrez, who had his headphones around his neck, turned to Tristan with a smirk. "First time flying for a European game?"

Tristan chuckled. "Yeah. Feels a bit different, I won't lie."

"What's different about it?" Mahrez asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tristan shrugged. "I don't know... just knowing we're playing a team from another country. It's not like facing Stoke or Everton. It's European competition—it just sounds bigger."

Vardy, having overheard, leaned across the aisle. "Oh, don't start romanticizing it already. It's still eleven blokes kicking a ball around."

"In front of 30,000 mad Polish fans who hate us," Danny added.

Tristan smirked. "Yeah, well, that part should be fun."

"Fun?!" Mahrez laughed. "Have you seen their fans? Absolute lunatics. Flares, flags, chanting the whole game."

Vardy leaned back with a grin. "That's what I like to hear. The louder they are, the better it'll feel when we silence them."

Drinkwater nodded. "That's the plan, mate. Hit them early, control the game, and don't let them settle."

The team had already gone through tactical analysis on Legia Warsaw, but truth be told, no one in the squad was particularly nervous. The Polish champions had home advantage, but Leicester had momentum and confidence after their strong start to the season.

Lingard and Ulloa were flipping through a match preview on one of their tablets.

"Anyone actually know their players?" Lingard asked.

Ulloa squinted at the screen. "Michal Pazdan... never heard of him."

Tristan turned slightly. "Same. If I don't know their names, they're probably not that big."

Vardy grinned. "Oi, careful, Tristan. You don't want to end up on some Polish lad's wall after he scores a screamer against us."

Mahrez shook his head. "Nah, Tristan's got a point. If we haven't heard of them, they're not exactly world-class."

Danny added, "Doesn't mean we take them lightly. If we get cocky, that's when we get punished."

"He's right," Tristan said. "We've seen upsets happen in Europe before. Let's make sure we're not on the wrong side of one."

Vardy rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright, mister serious. You're spending too much time with the coach."

After team discussions faded, players slipped into their usual travel routines. Some watched movies, others scrolled through their phones, and some, like Wes Morgan and Ulloa, were already asleep.

Vardy, however, had other plans.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a deck of Uno cards, waving them around. "Right then, who fancies getting embarrassed?"

Mahrez groaned. "Not again, Jamie."

Tristan smirked. "Wait, you actually brought Uno?"

"Always," Vardy grinned. "You never know when you need to humble someone."

Danny chuckled. "You mean when you need to cheat."

"What?!" Vardy feigned offense. "I don't cheat. I just bend the rules slightly in my favor."

Mahrez sighed. "Fine. Let's play. But if you start making up rules again, I'm done."

"Relax," Vardy said, shuffling the cards. "Uno is a gentleman's game."

Lingard overheard from across the aisle and perked up. "Uno? Oh, I'm in."

Drinkwater smirked. "Alright, let's see who loses their mind first."

The five players gathered around a fold-out tray, Uno cards scattered across the table. The match began casually, but soon, as expected, the chaos unfolded.

...

As the plane touched down, the players stretched and prepared to disembark raring to make a statement in Europe's second biggest competition.

Among those most eager to make a statement in Europe was Jesse Lingard.

On loan from Manchester United, this was his biggest opportunity yet to prove himself. His goal was simple—impress in both the Premier League and Europa League and force his way back into United's plans.

So far, he had been solid but unspectacular, holding down the left-wing position and forming a promising understanding with Tristan Hale. However, football was ruthless. If you weren't producing goals or assists, it didn't matter how well you played. He hadn't registered a goal contribution in weeks, and it was beginning to gnaw at him.

Against Legia Warsaw, he was determined to change that.

Later that evening, after dinner at the team hotel, Lingard decided to seek out Tristan, if he wanted to score, might as well ask the best passer in the league.

Lingard knocked twice on Room 217 before hearing a muffled voice.

"Who is it?"

"Jesse."

A second later, the door swung open to reveal Mahrez, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

"Ah, perfect timing!" Mahrez grabbed Lingard's wrist and pulled him inside before he could say a word.

Lingard frowned. "Wait—what?"

Inside, Tristan was sprawled out on the bed, shuffling a deck of poker cards.

"Perfect." He held up the cards. "We need a third player."

Lingard blinked. "For what?"

Mahrez grabbed a chair and plopped down beside the bed. "Texas Hold'em. Tristan's been teaching me, but he needs someone else to fleece besides me."

Tristan chuckled. "It's a classic. Thought about inviting Vardy, but... well, you know him. He'd turn this into a full-blown casino night."

Lingard hesitated. "I actually came to talk about tomorrow's game."

Mahrez waved him off. "There's plenty of time for that. Besides, football's all about reading the game, yeah? So is poker. Good practice for decision-making."

Tristan smirked. "Also, it's just fun."

Lingard sighed, then shook his head with a small smile. "Fine. But if I lose money, I'm blaming you both."

The game kicked off with a few pounds thrown in to keep things interesting. Tristan, having played poker before, was the early favorite, while Mahrez, still learning the ropes, made some questionable calls.

Vardy popped his head in at one point, saw what was happening, and immediately left, muttering, "Not getting sucked into that again."

The game quickly got competitive.They played for another hour or so, trading wins and losses, before finally calling it a night. Tomorrow was too important to risk a late-night gambling spree.

As Lingard left the room, he glanced back at Tristan.

"For real, though. Let's link up tomorrow. I need an assist."

Tristan smirked. "You make the run, I'll find you."

Satisfied, Lingard headed back to his room.

....

Match Day: Sepemteber 18, 2014

As night settled over Warsaw, the Polish Army Stadium buzzed with energy. The Europa League was back, and for the first time in 53 years, Leicester City were part of it.

In the BT Sport commentary booth, Darren Fletcher welcomed viewers with his signature enthusiasm.

"Good evening, everyone! A historic night for Leicester City as they step onto the European stage for the first time in over half a century! They're here in Warsaw to take on Legia, and what an occasion this promises to be!"

Beside him, former Leicester defender Matt Elliott couldn't hide his excitement.

"It's incredible, Darren. This club has waited so long for nights like this, and now they finally get their chance. Leicester fans have dreamt about this moment—European football, under the lights, against one of Poland's biggest teams."

The camera panned to the Leicester end, where thousands of traveling supporters, draped in blue, bounced in unison, chanting and waving scarves.

"And just listen to that away section!" Fletcher continued. "The Leicester faithful have traveled in numbers, and they are in full voice!"

The broadcast cut to the players in the tunnel. Wes Morgan, Leicester's captain, stood tall, eyes fixed ahead. Opposite him, Ivica Vrdoljak, Legia Warsaw's skipper, adjusted his armband, his face set with determination.

Although most of that attention was on Tristan, everyone wanted to see if he could continue and elevate his performance in Europe.

"Legia will be no pushovers," Elliott warned. "They're the reigning Polish champions, experienced in Europe, and they'll be desperate to get off to a winning start at home."

A wave of noise erupted as the teams stepped onto the pitch.

"Here come the teams!" Fletcher declared. "Leicester City, back in European competition, ready to write a new Chapter in their history!"

The referee's whistle blew, and Jamie Vardy tapped the ball back to Tristan who immediately shifted it wide to Danny.

"And we're underway in Warsaw!" Fletcher called. "Leicester, back in Europe, and already looking sharp in possession."

The Foxes moved the ball quickly, their passes clean and purposeful. Legia tried to press high, but Leicester were composed, shifting play from left to right, probing for an opening.

"Look at the confidence from Leicester," Elliott observed. "They're not sitting back, they're taking the game to Legia straight away!"

With the match still locked in a tense stalemate, Tristan drifted into space near the center circle, quickly scanning the pitch. Spotting Lingard's run from midfield, he pivoted, body angled perfectly as he whipped a magnificent diagonal pass—high, curling, and inch-perfect.

The stadium collectively held its breath as the ball soared gracefully, bypassing Legia's defensive line and dropping beautifully over the last defender's head.

"Oh, what a pass from Tristan!" Fletcher cried out in excitement. "He's split the defense open with one magical touch!"

Lingard surged forward, eyes locked onto the descending ball. He controlled it smoothly on his chest, one fluid movement that took the goalkeeper by surprise.

"Lingard's through—can he finish?" Savage shouted, excitement building with each word.

Without hesitation, Lingard unleashed a sharp half-volley, the ball rifling into the bottom corner.

"GOAL!" Fletcher roared. "And what an assist from Tristan—absolutely world-class vision, technique, execution! Leicester City have broken the deadlock.

The stadium erupted, fans jumping to their feet in celebration, chanting Lingard's name as he sprinted toward the corner flag, arms wide in jubilant triumph.

Tristan clenched his fist, allowing himself a brief grin.

The camera cut to Legia's defenders, frozen in shock.

"This is incredible," Fletcher continued. "Look at the build-up—Tristan's pass was outrageous, Mahrez's cross was perfect, and Lingard finished it off brilliantly. That is top-class football!"

On the sidelines, Pearson remained composed, clapping approvingly. Beside him, assistant coach Walsh grinned and shook his head in disbelief.

A replay rolled on the screen, showing Tristan's pass again, the weight, the accuracy—pure class.

"We've talked about this kid's vision," Elliott said, "but that right there? That's world-class. Tristan Hale, on his European debut, has just carved open Legia like a seasoned pro!"

"We knew Leicester would be dangerous," Fletcher added, "but nobody expected them to strike this fast! They've come to Warsaw, and they've made their intentions clear—this is their night!"

On the field, Leicester's players mobbed Lingard, embracing the winger who had just given them the perfect start.

The opening whistle had barely finished echoing around the Polish Army Stadium before Leicester City had made their mark. Jesse Lingard's early goal had stunned the home crowd into silence, and the momentum never shifted. As the players jogged back to their positions after the restart, the Foxes' front line buzzed with energy, pressing high and forcing Legia Warsaw into uncomfortable situations.

Tristan and Mahrez caught up to Lingard near the corner flag, grinning as they ruffled his hair.

"Oi, Jesse, what a start!" Tristan laughed, patting him on the back.

"Pure class, mate," Mahrez added with a smirk.

Lingard, still catching his breath, grinned. "I told you, just needed that first one!"

From the commentary booth,Fletcher couldn't help but admire Leicester's fast start.

"Well, Matt, we knew Leicester had quality, but they've taken this game by the scruff of the neck in the opening minutes!"

Beside him, Elliott nodded.

"Legia look shell-shocked, Darren. They were expecting a battle, but Leicester have come here and imposed themselves straight away. They're first to everything, and when you've got someone like Tristan pulling the strings, you're always going to create chances."

Legia struggled to settle, their passing sloppy under Leicester's relentless press. Every time they tried to play out from the back, Danny Drinkwater and Cambiasso were there, snapping into tackles and winning the ball back with ease.

And when Leicester attacked, they did it with devastating speed.

In the 20th minute, Leicester struck again.

After a clever exchange of passes, Tristan received the ball just outside the box, his green eyes scanning the movement around him. He spotted Lingard darting in from the left and sent him a perfectly weighted pass, splitting two defenders.

Lingard didn't hesitate. A quick shift onto his right foot, then a curling cross toward the penalty area.

Tristan had continued his run, and as the ball dropped toward him, he timed his strike perfectly.

The shot curled through a narrow gap, bending past the helpless Warsaw goalkeeper and rippling the side netting.

"GOAL!! TRISTAN HALE MAKES IT TWO!" Fletcher roared, as the Leicester fans erupted.

Elliott was equally thrilled.

"Oh, that is magnificent! The movement, the vision, the execution—everything about that goal was pure quality!"

Tristan turned away, arms spread wide, before Mahrez and Lingard crashed into him, wrapping him in a celebratory hug.

"You're making this look too easy, mate," Lingard grinned.

"Keep feeding me like that, and I'll return the favor," Tristan laughed, patting Lingard on the back.

The Warsaw fans groaned in frustration. Their team looked lost—unable to match Leicester's tempo, unable to string together passes, unable to find a foothold in the game.

And Leicester weren't done.

In the 35th minute, Warsaw had a rare spell of possession, but their attack quickly broke down under pressure from Drinkwater. The midfielder coolly won the ball back and looked up, spotting Tristan already drifting into space.

With one touch, Tristan turned and saw Vardy peeling away from his marker. Without hesitation, he threaded a defense-splitting pass between the Warsaw center-backs.

Vardy, as always, was electric.

He burst past the defenders, one-on-one with the goalkeeper.

"VARDY'S IN! Can he finish?!" Fletcher shouted.

There was never any doubt. Vardy slotted the ball into the bottom corner like a rocket silencing the home crowd even further.

"JAMIE VARDY MAKES IT THREE! LEICESTER CITY ARE RUNNING RIOT IN WARSAW!"

Elliott laughed in disbelief.

"Legia Warsaw cannot handle this! Leicester are absolutely tearing them apart, and it's Tristan again with the assist—his second of the night!"

Vardy sprinted to the corner flag, cupping his ears to the stunned Warsaw fans before spinning around and pointing straight at Tristan.

"That's two for you now, mate!" Vardy called as Tristan jogged over, bumping fists with his striker.

"You just keep making those runs, and I'll keep finding you," Tristan replied with a wink.

As the referee blew for halftime, Legia's players trudged off the pitch, their shoulders slumped. The fans who had been singing so loudly at kickoff now sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

Leicester, a newly promoted Premier League side, were tearing apart the Polish champions on their home turf.

"That first half was a statement," Fletcher declared as the players walked off. "Leicester aren't just here to take part in the Europa League—they're here to dominate!"

Elliott agreed.

"They look like a team full of confidence, Darren. The way they're playing—it's like they belong on this stage."

In the tunnel, Nigel Pearson calmly gathered his players.

"Brilliant first half, lads," he said. "Stay sharp, stay disciplined. We finish this job properly in the second half."

Tristan, still breathing heavily from the first 45 minutes, nodded.

If the first half had been a statement, the second half was a formality.

Legia Warsaw, embarrassed on their own turf, attempted to claw back some dignity. Their midfield pressed higher, their wingers pushed forward, and their home crowd, though deflated, tried to rally behind them.

But Leicester weren't having it.

Leicester pressed aggressively, forcing mistakes and winning the ball back deep in Warsaw's half.

Tristan and Mahrez, the architects of Leicester's attacking play, continued dictating the tempo.

Mahrez twisted and turned past defenders with ease, while Tristan, always scanning the field, orchestrated Leicester's build-up with razor-sharp passing.

The Warsaw midfielders looked exhausted, their energy sapped from chasing shadows all night.

Elliott, watching from the commentary booth, couldn't help but admire Leicester's control.

"This is top-class pressing from Leicester. Look at them—every time Legia tries to play out from the back, there's a blue shirt snapping at their heels. This is exactly why they're dominating this match."

Fletcher agreed.

"Legia just can't get out! Leicester are suffocating them with their intensity. Every time they try to string a few passes together, Tristan Hale is there cutting off passing lanes, Mahrez is harassing the full-backs, and Cambiasso is sweeping up loose balls. It's a nightmare for the home side."

By the 60th minute, Leicester were in total control.

Winning a corner on the right, Tristan trotted over to take it.

The Leicester fans behind the goal rose to their feet, sensing another chance.

Tristan took a deep breath, then swung in a perfectly whipped cross—fast, dipping, and right into the danger zone.

Liam Moore, Leicester's towering center-back, timed his leap perfectly.

He rose above the Warsaw defenders, met the ball with a powerful header, and bulleted it past the helpless goalkeeper.

"GOAL! LEICESTER HAVE FOUR!" Fletcher roared. "AND IT'S LIAM MOORE WITH A TOWERING HEADER!"

Elliott shook his head in amazement.

"Another perfect delivery from Tristan. He's already got a goal and two assists, and now he's added another set-piece masterclass to his night!"

As Moore wheeled away in celebration, he pointed straight at Tristan, acknowledging the pinpoint cross that made it possible.

Tristan jogged over, slapping Moore on the back with a grin.

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"Not bad for a center-back, huh?" Tristan teased.

Moore laughed. "Mate, put it on my head like that every time, and I'll score ten this season!"

The Leicester players gathered for the celebration, while the Warsaw players slumped in despair.

With the score at 0-4, the game was well and truly over.

With Manchester United coming up in the Premier League, Pearson knew the job was done.

On the 65th minute, he made a triple substitution, bringing off Leicester's three best performers of the night.

🔄 Tristan Hale → Andy King

🔄 Riyad Mahrez → Marc Albrighton

🔄 Esteban Cambiasso → Leonardo Ulloa

As Tristan walked off the pitch, he was met with a standing ovation from the away section.

The Leicester fans clapped and cheered, chanting his name.

"TRISTAN! TRISTAN! TRISTAN!"

He raised a hand in appreciation, nodding toward the fans before exchanging handshakes with Pearson and his coaching staff.

Elliott couldn't hide his admiration.

"You can see just how much Leicester's fans appreciate Tristan. He's been absolutely magnificent tonight as always. There's not a single bad thing you can say about this kid.

Fletcher added, "At just 19 years old, he's running the show in Europe. The future is incredibly bright for this young man if you already couldn't tell."

With Leicester's main stars off the pitch, the game slowed down.

Warsaw, desperate to salvage some pride, began to push forward.

In the 83rd minute, a rare mistake from Danny Drinkwater gifted Warsaw a counterattack.

A quick through ball split the Leicester defense, and Warsaw's striker fired past Ben Hamer, pulling one back for the hosts.

The Warsaw fans let out a relieved cheer, but even they knew—it was nothing more than a consolation goal.

Elliott sighed.

"A sloppy goal to concede, but at 4-1, Leicester won't be losing any sleep over it."

Fletcher agreed.

"They'll be frustrated to lose the clean sheet, but let's not forget—this has been an absolutely dominant performance from Leicester City."

When the final whistle blew, Leicester had secured their first European win in 53 years.

🔵 Full-Time: Legia Warsaw 1-4 Leicester City 🔵

Pearson and his coaching staff stood up, clapping proudly as Leicester's players walked toward the away end to thank the traveling fans.

Elliott summed it up perfectly.

"Leicester City have arrived in Europe—and they've done it in style!"

Fletcher nodded.

"An absolutely dominant display. Tristan with a goal and three assists, Lingard opening the scoring, Vardy getting in on the action, and Liam Moore rounding it off. A statement victory!"

As Tristan walked off the pitch, he shared a high-five with Lingard.

Leicester had come to Warsaw to make a statement—and they delivered in every way possible.

With three points secured, their European adventure was off to a dream start.

.....

Tristan had been unstoppable in his Europa League debut.

A goal, three assists, and a commanding midfield display—his fingerprints were all over Leicester's 4-1 demolition of Legia Warsaw.

His reward?

Man of the Match

9.3 Match Rating

Five System Achievements Unlocked

[Europa League Debut]

[First Goal in the Europa League]

[First Europa League Assist]

[Three-Assists in a Europa League Match]

[Goal and Multiple Assists in One Game]

With these milestones came a huge bonus— five free attribute points added to his growing collection. Combined with the two he had earned from his Premier League Team of the Month and Team of the Week selections, he now had seven to distribute.

Those were his stats for the game.

60 minutes played

1 goal

3 assists

4 key passes

85% pass accuracy

2 shots on target

1 interception

1 corner kick assist

Leicester had announced themselves to Europe in style but the celebrations were short-lived.

In just a few days, they would be back on English soil, preparing for their biggest Premier League test yet—Manchester United at home.

Instead of returning to England with the team, Tristan had made alternative travel arrangements.

He planned to fly to Milan the next morning, taking advantage of Leicester's day off.

Before making any moves, however, he did something few players in modern football bothered with—he informed Pearson.

The Leicester manager raised an eyebrow when Tristan told him but quickly gave a nod of approval.

Pearson appreciated the respect.

He knew the modern game was different. The days of a Sir Alex Ferguson-style dictatorship—where a manager controlled everything from hairstyles to curfews—were long gone.

Now, players were brands. Some held more influence than the club itself. If there was ever a power struggle between an elite footballer and a manager, the club would always side with the star.

But Pearson wasn't the type to control what his players did in their personal lives.

If Tristan had been partying, drinking, or slacking off in training?

He would have stepped in immediately, no way he was allowing that team's greatest talent in history to fall under him.

But a short business trip during a day off?

No problem.

"Enjoy your break, Tristan. You earned it," Pearson said simply.

....

Later that night, alone in his hotel room, Tristan sat on the edge of his bed and opened his system panel for the first time in a while.

[Player Profile – Tristan Hale]

Age: 19

Height: 187cm

Weight: 72kg

Dominant Foot: Right

Club: Leicester City

Talent: [Kevin De Bruyne's Vision & Passing]

Skills: [Pull Back the Ball], [Putt Master]

Attributes:

Ball Control: C (Improving)

Shooting: C

Passing: S (Elite)

Defense: D

Physicality: B

Mentality: B

Overall Rating: 82

Available Attribute Points: 7

His body transformation was starting to show.

Since the season started, he had grown an extra centimeter and added two kilograms of muscle—thanks to his personalized training plan.

Most notably, his [Physicality] had significantly improved, especially after unlocking the [Training Acceleration Card].

Attribute Growth Since August

Endurance: 84 → 86

Balance: 68 → 70

Reaction: 72 → 74

Jumping (Bounce): 62 → 64

Strength: 58 → 61

His biggest personal achievement?

Breaking the 80-mark in Ball Control.

Much of that was thanks to Mahrez, who had personally guided him in training.

Did he have Mahrez's level of dribbling? Not even close.

But it was a start.

Spending the Attribute Points

With seven points available, Tristan had a clear plan.

[Speed] – 85 → 90 (5 points spent)

This was game-changing.With 90 pace, Tristan could blow past midfielders and outrun defenders.He wasn't going to be Messi—but he could be Gareth Bale.Not fancy, just effective.Knock the ball forward and leave defenders in the dust.

[Ball Protection] – 65 → 67 (2 points spent)

Tight marking had become a real problem.Opponents constantly pressed him.With his vision and passing, defenders never gave him space.Improving [Ball Protection] meant he could shield the ball better, turning pressure into opportunities.

With these upgrades, Tristan was no longer just a playmaker—he was becoming a midfield powerhouse.

....

The system in this Chapter isn't that new one, I made the decision to create a new one later down the line so just ignore it for now, that system won't come up again for a while. I just forget to remove it from the Chapter but it is what it is.

Also need them power stones