Chapter 76: The Final Push I

JJ’s decision to reject the professional contract was a seismic event, a moment that sent shockwaves through our small and close-knit footballing world.

It was an act of loyalty so profound, so unexpected, and so deeply counter-cultural that it transformed the very fabric of our team.

The crisis, the slump, the infighting... it all just melted away, replaced by a new, and incredibly powerful, sense of collective purpose. We were no longer just a team fighting for promotion; we were a team fighting for a cause.

The final stretch of the season was a brutal and relentless war of attrition. We had six games left to play. Six games to go.

We were in second place, three points behind Salford City Amateurs, who had recovered from their derby defeat to us and had gone on another relentless winning run. There was only one promotion spot. The maths was simple. We had to win all our remaining games. And we had to hope that Salford would slip up.

I was living and breathing football, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Emma texted me asking if I was still alive. I responded with a tactical diagram. She sent back a gif of someone rolling their eyes. Fair.

The problem was, I still had to work. The club was not paying me a salary.

a small bonus when we won fifty quid here, a hundred there but

every night, after training, after matches, after spending hours analyzing opponents on the system and also browsing the internet, I would drag

drunk customers, and mopping floors. Then home for three hours of sleep before starting all over again, it

was reality. I was a convenience store worker who happened to manage a football team, not the other way around.

February 20th, away to Ashton United, and the system’s scouting report

favoured a direct, long-ball style. The system flagged three of their players with high "Aggression" ratings and low "Discipline" scores. Translation: they were going to

ugly," I said. "They’re going to try to intimidate us. They’re going to try to hurt

with JJ playing just behind a lone striker. I instructed the midfield to sit deeper, to protect the defence, to

get a corner," I said, "Big

exactly as brutal as I had expected. Ashton’s players were kicking anything that moved. The referee was weak, letting them get away with murder. By the thirtieth minute, three of our

It came in the sixty-eighth minute when we won a corner. JJ took it short to Marcus

back to JJ, who had continued his run. JJ whipped in a low, driven cross to the near post. Big Dave attacked it like a man possessed, getting in

lives depended on it for the final twenty minutes. When the

drunk man tried to pay for cigarettes with a button. A teenager asked

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