The Coaching System-Chapter 8: The Star Player Conflict Begins

There was silence in the locker room.

Usually, after a victory, there would be laughter, excitement, and relief. But this wasn't that.

Following Bradford City's recent 1-0 win over Chesterfield, the first under Jake Wilson, there was an anxious mood in the dressing room.

There were still several players drinking water, wiping sweat from their faces, and catching their breath. Others sat silently, their thoughts elsewhere.

And then there was James Holbrook.

Holbrook sat at the opposite end of the room, elbows on knees, staring at the floor.

His jaw was tight. His fists clenched.

He was angry.

Jake had seen this reaction a hundred times before.

A player who thought he deserved more. A player who thought he was above the team.

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And like always, it was the captain.

Jake pretended not to notice at first.

He didn't need to start this fight. If Holbrook wanted to say something, he would.

And sure enough, Holbrook spoke first.

"We barely won." His voice cut through the silence.

Jake didn't respond.

Holbrook slowly lifted his head, his eyes locking onto Jake.

"We barely won," he repeated, louder this time. "And you benched me."

The tension in the room increased.

Some players exchanged looks, with some appearing uneasy and others anticipating Jake's next move.

Jake exhaled slowly, adjusting the sleeves of his coat.

Here we go.

"Yeah," he said simply.

Holbrook scoffed. "That's it? 'Yeah'?"

Jake met his gaze, calm and steady.

"We won, didn't we?"

Holbrook's jaw twitched. "You think that was a win?" He shook his head. "We spent the entire second half sitting deep like cowards. We got lucky."

Jake's lips twitched. "Lucky?"

Holbrook leaned forward. "You benched me, and we barely scraped by. So tell me—what's your plan? Huh? Are we just gonna sit back and pray every game?"

Jake could see it in Holbrook's eyes.

This wasn't just frustration about the match.

This was about power.

Holbrook had been the captain for years. He was used to having influence, being the voice of the team.

Now, there was a new manager—a man he didn't trust, a man who had benched him in training, changed the tactics, and won without him.

Holbrook wanted answers.

Jake gave him none.

Instead, he stepped forward, his voice cool. "You done?"

Holbrook narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Are you done?" Jake repeated.

Holbrook's fists clenched. "You're not answering my question."

Jake tilted his head slightly. "You think I owe you an answer?"

Holbrook's nostrils flared. "I'm the captain."

Jake smirked. "Then start acting like one."

The room went still.

Holbrook looked ready to explode, but Jake kept going.

"We won today because we played the way we needed to. Not because of luck, and sure as hell not because of you."

Holbrook's breath hitched.

Jake's face was still unreadable.

"I don't care if you dislike my approaches and I do not care if you believe you know better. What I care about is winning."

Holbrook stood up. "And you think we'll keep winning like this?"

Jake didn't blink. "I know we will."

The silence stretched.

The other players didn't move. Nobody wanted to get involved.

This was between the captain and the manager.

Holbrook shook his head. "You're making a mistake."

Jake smiled faintly.

"I don't make mistakes. I make decisions."

Holbrook scoffed, grabbing his bag.

He didn't say another word.

Just turned and walked out and slammed the door.

Jake let out a slow breath, his gaze shifting back to the rest of the team.

Some of them still looked uneasy.

Others... looked impressed.

David Reece, the young winger, was watching him with a thoughtful expression. Nathan Barnes, the defender, gave a small nod of approval.

Even Paul Roberts, his assistant manager, looked mildly amused.

Jake knew what they were thinking.

Holbrook challenged him—and Jake didn't back down.

That mattered.

That was the difference between a leader and a pushover.

Jake clapped his hands once.

"Go home. Rest. We train harder tomorrow."

One by one, the players filed out.

Paul lingered behind, arms crossed. "Well, that was interesting."

Jake smirked. "You think?"

Paul chuckled. "You just made an enemy."

Jake exhaled, glancing toward the door Holbrook had stormed out of.

"No."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"I made a decision."

And deep down, he already knew—it was only a matter of time before Holbrook was gone.