Chapter 254: Decision

Chapter 254: Decision

The team usually knew the starting lineup by Thursday morning.

Niels liked it that way. It gave the starters a couple of days to get mentally ready, figure out their roles together and focus on the opponent. To him, guessing just caused nerves and nerves lost games.

But when the players walked into the Broadfield dressing room this Thursday, the whiteboard was unfinished.

The back four was clearly listed. Dev, Max, and Thiago were written down as the front three. Pogba and Tom Whitehall took the central midfield spots.

But the holding position at the base of the midfield was completely blank.

Kieron stared at the empty space as he pulled on his training shirt. A few lockers down, Jamal was tying his boots, his eyes darting to the board for a second before looking back down.

Neither of them said a word, but the blank spot was impossible to ignore.

Out on the pitch, the sharp January wind made their eyes water. The wet grass made the ball skip fast if a pass wasn’t weighted perfectly.

"Sharp today, lads! Get the blood moving!" Gary yelled. You could see his breath in the cold air as he blew the whistle to start the drills.

The squad split into small grids for rondos. The fast, one- and two-touch passing woke up their feet and their brains.

Niels just stood quietly on the touchline with his coat zipped to his chin, keeping a close eye on the two holding midfielders.

After twenty minutes of hard possession drills, Gary blew his whistle three times to signal the main part of the session.

"Bring it in!" Niels called, stepping onto the grass.

The players grouped around him, jogging on the spot to stay warm. Niels held a clipboard to his chest.

"Eleven on eleven. Full pitch," Niels said, his voice carrying over the wind. "We’re working on two different game situations today. I want full match intensity. If you’ve got a knock, step out now. Otherwise, we go hard."

No one moved.

Niels read out the teams. Just like earlier in the week, he put Jamal in blue and Kieron in orange. They were going head-to-head in central midfield again, but the setup was different this time.

"Blue team, listen up," Niels said, pointing a gloved finger at Jamal’s side. "You’re facing a high press today. I don’t want long clearances. Slow the game down. Get on the ball, draw the pressure, wait for them to overcommit, and then pass through the lines. Bait the trap, then spring it."

Jamal nodded. It was the perfect role for a player as calm on the ball as him.

Niels turned to Kieron and the orange team.

"Orange, you’re the aggressors," he said, his voice sharpening. "Don’t give them a second to breathe. I want a suffocating high press. When they try to build from the back, you go. Attack every loose ball. Turn them over high up the pitch."

Kieron clapped his hands together, adrenaline already pumping. This was exactly how he liked to play.

"Stay in your positions!" Gary shouted, blowing the whistle.

The drill started and the difference in styles was obvious right away.

Adam Fletcher rolled a short pass to Miguel Cardoso at the back. Instantly, the orange team started pressing.

Max Simons and Dev Patel closed down the angles, forcing Miguel to look toward the middle of the pitch for a way out.

Jamal was there, dropping deep to show for the ball.

As the pass rolled toward Jamal, Kieron saw his chance. He sprinted out of midfield, closing the gap fast, ready to put in a hard tackle the second Jamal touched the ball.

But Jamal didn’t panic. He didn’t even look at the ball he kept his eyes fixed on Kieron.

When the ball reached him, Jamal didn’t try to outrun the younger midfielder. He just adjusted his stance. Dropping his left shoulder, he planted his foot and positioned his hips right between Kieron and the ball.

Kieron hit him hard, but Jamal absorbed the contact easily. He used Kieron’s momentum to spin away, completely taking the younger midfielder out of the play, and casually flicked a pass into the space Kieron had just left empty.

"Brilliant, Jamal! Great use of the body!" Gary called from the sideline.

Kieron stumbled, caught his balance, and looked back in frustration as the blue team comfortably moved into attack. He’d been completely beaten by a veteran who barely broke a sweat.

Five minutes later, the same setup happened.

The blue team had the ball deep in their own half. They slowed the game right down, casually knocking it around the back to bait the orange team into pressing.

The ball went into Jamal’s feet again, right on the edge of the center circle.

Kieron pushed up again, bursting forward. But this time, he was thinking. He remembered getting bounced off in the last play.

As he closed the distance, Kieron didn’t charge straight at Jamal’s back.

Instead, he curved his run and slowed down just a fraction before arriving. He angled his body to completely cut off the inside passing lane.

Jamal felt the pressure coming. He tried to drop his shoulder and shield the ball again, looking to turn inside and set up the play.

But Kieron wasn’t there to lean on. Because of the new angle, Jamal found himself turning right into Kieron.

Kieron didn’t dive in for a tackle. He stayed on his feet, boxing Jamal in. He forced the veteran away from the center of the pitch shepherding him out wide where the space was tight and the passing options disappeared.

Trapped with nowhere to go, Jamal had no choice but to rush a pass back to his center-half.

"Hold the line! Yes, Kieron! That is how you cut the lane!" Niels shouted, sounding genuinely impressed.

Kieron didn’t celebrate, but as he dropped back into position, he locked eyes with Jamal for a second. Jamal wiped his forehead and gave Kieron a quick nod.

It was a chess match out there. Jamal was using his head to save energy and control the space, while Kieron was learning how to channel his aggression to actually shut him down.

On the touchline, Niels stood with his arms crossed, watching them go at it.

"They’re figuring each other out," Gary noted, stepping up next to the manager. "Jamal’s trying to bait him, but the kid’s actually adapting. He didn’t bite that time."

"He learns fast," Niels agreed quietly, keeping his eyes on the pitch.

"So, who gets the nod on Saturday?" Gary asked. "Because honestly, boss, I couldn’t tell you who’s better right now."

Niels smiled faintly. "That’s because you’re asking the wrong question, Gary. It’s not about who’s better."

Gary looked confused. "Then what is it about?"

"Look at the pitch," Niels said. "If the other team wants a track meet, if they want to play chaotic, second-ball football, Kieron will run them into the ground. But if a team parks the bus and dares us to break down a low block? Kieron doesn’t have the key for that. Jamal does. He’ll slow them down, pull them out of position, and open them up with one pass."

Niels uncrossed his arms and put his hands in his pockets. "I’m not trying to figure out who our best holding midfielder is. I’m waiting to see which one we need for this specific game."

The drill went on for another frantic thirty minutes, and the intensity never dropped. Every time the blue team tried to build, Kieron was right there hunting the ball, cutting lanes and sparking counter-attacks.

But whenever the orange team tried to overwhelm them with pace, Jamal was there to put his foot on the ball, take the hit, and slow the whole session right back down.

It was fierce, but completely clean. When Jamal slipped a pass right through Kieron’s legs, he just jogged on without a word.

When Kieron put in a hard, fair challenge to win a fifty-fifty ball, Jamal just picked himself up off the wet grass and got back into position.

With every touch of the ball, they were making each other better.

When the session finally ended, the players headed inside exhausted. The dressing room was quiet, except for heavy breathing and the sound of guys unlacing muddy boots.

Ten minutes later, Niels walked in.

The talking faded as the manager stepped up to the whiteboard. He uncapped a blue marker and quickly jotted down the starting defenders.

Then he moved to the top of the board and filled in the attackers, followed by Paul Pogba and Tom Whitehall in central midfield.

He paused.

The whole room watched his hand. Kieron sat on his bench with a towel around his neck, trying to look casual. Jamal leaned against his locker, his face giving nothing away.

Niels looked at the empty spot at the base of the midfield. He hovered the marker there for a couple of seconds.

Then, he put the cap back on.

He didn’t write a name. He just set the marker on the ledge, turned around, and faced the squad.

"Good session today," Niels said, ignoring the obvious tension in the room. "Recover well. We’ll go over the final tactical details tomorrow morning."

He walked out, letting the door pull shut behind him.

Kieron stared at the blank spot on the whiteboard and let out a slow breath. The spot wasn’t his yet. But it wasn’t Jamal’s either.

The wait was going to stretch into Friday. The spot was still up for grabs, and they both knew they’d have to fight for it all over again tomorrow.