Chapter 251: Tactical Options

Chapter 251: Tactical Options

The morning at Broadfield was freezing. You could still feel the tension from yesterday’s blowup lingering beneath the usual shouts and whistles.

Niels stood by the touchline warming his hands on a cup of coffee. His eyes went straight to Dev Patel.

The young winger was going through his warm-ups like a robot. He wasn’t joking with Thiago today. He was quiet, intensely focused, and avoiding looking at the sideline. The ultimatum Niels gave him yesterday pack for Valencia or play for the shirt was clearly weighing on him.

Niels took a sip of his coffee. He’d stripped the kid of his ego, which had to happen but now came the tricky part. He had to make sure he hadn’t completely broken his spirit.

"Alright, let’s see it!" Gary barked, blowing his whistle to start the main drill. "Full pitch, full intensity. Transition speed is everything!"

Niels pushed the transfer noise aside and focused on the practice. He’d split the squad into two starting elevens pitting his two main tactical setups against each other.

Team A, in orange, was his regular lineup. Adam Fletcher was in goal behind a back four of Reece Darby, Liam McCulloch, Miguel Cardoso, and Callum Haines. The midfield three were Tom Whitehall, Paul Pogba, and Kieron Marsh holding at the base. Up top, Max Simons played between Dev on the right and Thiago on the left.

Team B, in blue, was the backup plan. Benji Cook was in goal behind Ellis Flynn, Harry Thompson, Darnell Prince, and Marc Jennings. In midfield, Ilyas Kader and Callum Berg played ahead of Jamal Osei. The front three were Nate Sutton, Leo Morley, and Korey Henry.

The drill was set up for quick turnovers forcing the holding midfielders to constantly react, reset, and pass under pressure.

Right from the whistle, the difference between the two defensive midfielders was obvious.

Kieron played with the same aggressive, straightforward style he’d been showing all month. When Team B’s Ilyas Kader tried to dribble through the middle, Kieron stepped up right away. He didn’t lunge. He just positioned himself perfectly, waited for a heavy touch and stepped across to steal the ball cleanly.

The second he won the ball, Kieron had his head up. He wasn’t looking to make a Hollywood pass. He spotted Tom Whitehall in a pocket of space and hit a crisp, flat pass right to his feet.

"Good, Kieron! Simple and fast!" Niels called out.

This was exactly what Kieron had been doing to keep the team going. He was a destroyer—breaking up the opposition’s rhythm and instantly restarting Crawley’s. He was safe, disciplined, and relentless.

Five minutes later, the roles reversed. Team A lost the ball high up the pitch, and Team B went on the attack.

The ball fell to Jamal deep in his own half. Kieron pressed high, rushing the veteran midfielder to try and force a mistake.

Jamal didn’t panic or rush to clear it. As Kieron closed in, Jamal dropped his shoulder, let the ball roll across his body, and totally sold Kieron on a fake pass to the left. With Kieron off balance, Jamal opened up his stance and looked downfield.

Leo Morley, Team B’s big target man, was making a run but Liam McCulloch had him tightly marked. It looked like a dead end.

Jamal didn’t care. With a casual swing of his right foot, he clipped a disguised pass over the entire Team A midfield. It wasn’t just a standard lob; it had enough backspin to hold up perfectly in the cold air, dropping right between Liam and the recovering full-back.

Nate Sutton didn’t even have to break stride. He took the ball in stride, drove deep into the final third, and fired a shot that forced a sharp save from Adam Fletcher.

"Brilliant vision, Jamal!" Gary shouted, clapping. "That’s the quality!"

Niels stayed quiet, taking it all in.

He watched Kieron hustle back into position, clearly frustrated by falling for the fake. Then he watched Jamal jog slowly back to the center circle, looking completely unbothered as if beating a high press with a thirty-yard lob was the easiest thing in the world.

That pattern continued for the next twenty minutes.

Without the ball, Kieron was a nightmare to play against. He snapped into tackles, read the passing lanes and shielded the center-backs perfectly.

But when Team B had the ball, Jamal ran the show. He didn’t cover as much ground as Kieron, but his positioning was flawless. He always seemed to find open space. When he got the ball, he saw passing angles Kieron just couldn’t see.

He controlled the pace speeding things up with quick, one-touch passes, or holding the ball a split second longer to pull a defender out of position.

Niels also kept an eye on Dev. The winger was on Kieron’s team, but he barely looked like himself. Whenever he got the ball, instead of taking on the fullback or trying to make something happen, Dev immediately passed backward.

He was terrified of making a mistake. He was following instructions, but he’d completely lost the creative spark that made him dangerous.

Niels sighed to himself. It was going to take some work to find the right balance with the kid.

"They’re making it hard for you, boss," Emma Hayes said, stepping up next to him. The Sports Director was bundled in a thick scarf, her breath visible in the cold air as she watched the practice.

"They’re doing their jobs," Niels replied, keeping his eyes on the pitch.

"The board was asking about Jamal yesterday," Emma said casually, though Niels knew she never said anything just casually. "He’s fully fit now. They want to know when he’s going back into the starting eleven."

"He’ll start when the match calls for what he does," Niels said flatly.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You’re seriously going to keep him on the bench?"

"I’m focusing on what wins us games, Emma," Niels said, finally looking at her. "Look at them."

He pointed to the center circle, where Kieron had just put in a hard crunching tackle on Callum Berg to stop an attack.

"If we play a team like Tranmere someone who wants to drag the game into a physical scrap, I need Kieron. I need a hammer. I need someone who will fight for every loose ball and protect the center-backs."

Niels then pointed to Jamal, who was calmly rolling the ball under his foot to dodge a pressing Dev Patel before slipping a neat pass out wide.

"But if we play a team that sits deep and dares us to break them down? Kieron doesn’t have the key to that lock. Jamal does. Jamal is a scalpel. He sees the passes that win tight games."

Emma watched the two players for a moment as the realization sank in. "So it’s not about who’s better."

"No," Niels agreed, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction. For two weeks, this had been a massive headache, a dreaded choice between the loyal veteran and the hungry kid.

But watching them play in the freezing morning, his anxiety faded.

"It’s about having options," Niels said quietly. "For the first time since I took this job, we aren’t completely predictable in the middle of the pitch. We actually have flexibility."

Gary’s whistle echoed across the training ground, signaling a quick water break.

The players jogged to the sideline breathing hard.

Thomas handed out water bottles while checking his tablet.

"Heart rates are spiking, Gary," Thomas said. "We’ve got about ten more minutes of this intensity before they drop off."

"Understood," Gary nodded, checking his watch.

Nearby, Kieron grabbed a water bottle, his face red from the drill. Jamal walked over a moment later, pulling down his snood.

There was a brief moment of tension. The media would have loved to spin it as a bitter rivalry the veteran glaring at the young upstart.

Instead, Jamal tossed Kieron a towel.

"You’re pressing too early on the left," Jamal said simply. "When Thiago pushes up, you leave a gap behind you. That’s how I found that pass to Nate."

Kieron caught the towel, wiped his face, and nodded as he took it in. "Yeah. I thought I could beat him to the ball."

"You don’t need to beat him," Jamal corrected. "Just hold the lane. Make me force the pass wide."

Kieron took a long drink. "Thanks."

"Don’t thank me," Jamal smirked. "If you leave that gap on Saturday, I’m going to exploit it again."

Niels turned away smiling. He didn’t have a selection headache. He had a midfield that finally pushed each other, and a squad deep enough to handle whatever League One threw at them.

The only question now was which tool he needed for the weekend.