Touchline Rebirth: From Game To Glory-Chapter 217: Training and Tension

Niels opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, remembering everything from the night before.

He got out of bed and splashed some water on his face hoping it would help him feel more awake.

In the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. It was a new day, and ready or not, he had to step into it.

He finished his coffee as he grabbed his bag and headed out the door. The drive was quiet giving him too much time to think, so he turned on the radio just to fill the silence.

When he arrived, a few cars were already parked outside. Max was near the entrance, stretching his arms over his head. Dev stood a few steps away, scrolling through his phone. Keiron was laughing about something, while Thiago was lightly juggling a ball with easy control.

Niels stepped out of the car and took a steady breath before walking toward the dressing room. The day was already in motion.

The news had gotten out.

No one knew how, but the "£27 million" fee was all over the morning papers.

When Dev Patel walked into the dressing room, the talking stopped.

It wasn't anger. It was disbelief.

Most of the players were on normal League One wages. Twenty-seven million pounds didn't feel real to them. It was the kind of money you saw in TV headlines not in your own locker room.

And now it was connected to the quiet guy who had just walked in and hung up his coat like it was any other day.

Max Simons was already changed, his heart-rate monitor strapped on. He stood up and clapped his hands loudly.

"Alright, stare at him later," Max said, his voice filling the room. "We've got training to do. And if you want to be worth twenty-seven million, don't lose the rondo. Now move."

A few players let out short laughs.

The tight feeling in the room eased, replaced by quiet murmurs as they grabbed their boots and headed out toward the pitches.

Niels stood on the touchline, watching the players warm up.

Next to him, Thomas looked down at his clipboard, but Niels kept his eyes on the midfield groups. With Jamal Osei out because of a small hamstring problem from the Florence trip, there was a space in the first team.

"Kieron," Niels called.

Kieron Marsh jogged over. He had been waiting for a chance like this. He looked a little pale, his eyes flicking toward the older players nearby.

"You're taking Jamal's reps today," Niels said calmly. "You'll sit in front of the back four. Keep it simple. Win the ball, pass it to Thiago or Dev, and hold your position."

Kieron swallowed and nodded. "I'm ready, Coach. I just… I don't want to slow things down."

Niels rested a hand on his shoulder. "Just play your game, Kieron. You earned this through hard work, not luck. Don't try to be Jamal. Just be the best version of yourself."

Kieron took a deep breath and said slowly. "Alright, Coach. I'll focus on my game… and trust the team."

As the session kicked off, the pace hit hard. Maybe it was the Florence trip still weighing on them, or the shock of the transfer news, but tackles were sharper and more urgent than usual.

Dev, however didn't miss a beat. If anything, he seemed to thrive on it, moving with a speed and precision that made it look like he was trying to outrun something only he could see.

Every touch, every turn was controlled and ruthless, as if the pitch itself was helping him quiet the noise in his head.

Thiago and Korey Henry looked almost in sync, their movements in the final third flowing together as if they could read each other's minds.

Behind them, Paul Pogba moved with effortless control, spreading passes across the pitch with a smooth precision that kept the tempo high.

The session was intense bordering on aggressive but Niels didn't stop it. The players needed to channel their nervous energy and this was the only way it would burn off.

Kieron stayed in front of the back four watching and learning. He intercepted a loose ball and passed it to Thiago, then quickly got back into position to block a counter.

Max shouted instructions from the front keeping everyone alert. Kieron ignored the pressure and focused on the game, letting the play guide him instead of worrying about the rumours.

By halfway through, everyone was sweating and out of breath, but the team was moving sharper and faster. The shock from the morning papers and the quiet tension in the locker room were turning into energy and focus.

Niels watched closely, he was satisfied with the intense session. This was what they needed and a reminder that on the pitch that football could make everything else fade away.

Niels blew his whistle and called the players over for a quick talk.

"Listen up," he said. "Kieron, stay closer to the center. Don't leave a gap in front of the back four. Thiago, when you drop back, Dev and Korey cover the space in front. Max, watch the runs—don't go too early. Everyone else, move together as a team."

The players nodded and went back to the drills.

At the end of the session, the players went to the ice baths while Niels walked toward the main gates. A small group of reporters and photographers was waiting, cameras pressed against the chain-link fence.

The noise of voices and camera clicks showed the morning headlines were still big news.

Niels stopped for a moment straightened his jacket and got ready to deal with the questions from a safe distance.

"Niels! A word on the Valencia bid?" one shouted. "Is Dev Patel staying or going? Will a League One club even turn down nearly thirty million?"

Niels stopped a few feet from the gate keeping his face calm. He knew every word would be picked apart.

"Dev Patel is a Crawley player," he said firmly, his voice carrying over the fence. "He trained really well this morning, and his focus is where it should be on our next match. Beyond that, the club's position is clear. We are building for the future and Dev is part of that. That's all that matters right now."

Without waiting for more questions, he turned and walked away.

The reporters kept shouting, trying to get his attention.

"Niels! Will there be more signings?"

"What about the contract extension?"

"Is Dev playing in the next match?"

Niels didn't stop and walked on. He didn't turn around and ignored the questions.

That night, the streets of Crawley felt unusually quiet to Dev. He sat in his small apartment staring at his phone. Finally, he called the person at the top of his contacts.

"Dad?" he said when the call connected.

They talked for over an hour about his grandfather's shop, his tough first year in the academy, and the money that could change their lives.

"Son," his dad said, calm and warm, "I saw the papers. It's a lot of money. But remember what we talked about when you were little. Money can buy a house, but it can't buy the feeling of the ball at your feet in a place where you're loved."

His dad continued, "I'm not against you moving to another club, but I think it's not the right time yet. Yes, Valencia is a much bigger club, with a rich history, but you still have things to learn here. Your focus now should be on growing and enjoying the game, not chasing money or headlines. But..."

Dev closed his eyes, listening to the familiar rhythm of his father's breathing.

"If you really want to move this January, don't let the money decide for you," his father added softly. "Don't think about living a better life or your sister's tuition fees, Dev. Let your heart have a say too. If you leave, leave because you're ready to fly, not because anyone is pushing you."

Dev stayed quiet for the rest of the call, just listening and thinking about his father's advice.

Finally, he spoke softly. "Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear that."

He hung up and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

As the call ended, he felt his mind relax and the pressure fading away.

He didn't have to decide yet, but he knew what really mattered. For now, he would focus on the upcoming games and let the December transfer talk wait until later.