Touchline Rebirth: From Game To Glory
Chapter 56: Red Devils Rising

Chapter 56: Red Devils Rising

Chapter 56: Red Devils Rising

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Crawley Town beat Burnley 1-0 in the FA Cup, thanks to a powerful goal from Thiago in the 75th minute and some great saves by their goalkeeper, Adam Fletcher. It was a surprising result that excited the whole town. The Red Devils, sixth in League Two, had silenced Turf Moor, their 2,500 fans’ roars a fire in Niels’ heart. With the FA Cup Quarter-Final set for March 29, Crawley Town faced a tough stretch ahead league matches against Macclesfield Town and Morecambe, all before the quarter-final draw on March 1. At Broadfield’s training ground, under a February drizzle, Niels watched his squad gather, lifted by Nate Sutton’s return, a spark for the team. His knee wasn’t fully healed, but the medical staff had cleared him to resume training.

Sunday

Sunday was a rest day, but Crawley thrummed with pride. Niels joined the squad at The White Hart pub, its walls draped with red scarves, fans chanting, "Red Devils!" A banner, "Turf Moor Vanquished!" glowed above the bar, Thiago signing a fan’s shirt with a grin. Max Simons raised a pint, "To Burnley’s fall!" the squad roaring, "To Crawley!" Luka Radev’s laugh echoed as José Baxter mimicked Thiago’s goal slide, sparking Kieron Marsh’s shy smile, his Burnley tackles a redemption sealed. A girl in a red cap thrust a sign at Niels, "FA Cup Kings!" her dad’s shout, "You’re our soul!" warm. Niels nodded, throat tight, the Notts County 2-1 loss a faint scar, the FA Cup a blazing dream.

Later, Niels sat in his flat, BBC News replaying Thiago’s goal, the commentator’s cry, "Crawley, giant-killers!" stirring his chest. Elise’s call broke through, her voice electric, "Bro, you’re legends! Mum and Dad are celebrating!" Niels chuckled, "It’s the players, Elise." His parents’ steady warmth, "We’re proud, son," grounded him, but the quarter-final draw loomed, a Premier League titan stronger than Burnley waiting. What once felt like a dream was now reality but, Macclesfield’s challenge came first.

Monday’s Media Frenzy

Monday brought a media storm, Broadfield swarmed with cameras. Sky Sports cornered Max, "Crawley’s stunned Burnley. Quarter-finals next. Who’s your pick?" Max grinned, "Anyone, mate. We’re Crawley." Thiago’s broken English charmed BBC Radio, "We fight, we win!" prompting Luka’s clap, "That’s our Thiago!" Niels faced ITV, jaw firm, "Burnley was massive, but Macclesfield’s on Tuesday. We need to stay sharp." Off-camera, a reporter muttered, "Big draw’s coming, mate. Premier League’s circling." Niels nodded, pulse quickening, the FA Cup’s weight a quiet pressure.

Training was light, a jog to loosen legs, but Burnley’s glow lingered. Nate Sutton jogged smoothly, his knee brace gone, his nod to Niels, "I’m ready, boss," a spark. Jamal Osei’s banter, "Nate, you missed us slaying giants!" drew a grin, Nate’s reply, "I’ll score at Macclesfield." Fans at the fence, maybe seventy, chanted, "Red Devils!" a boy’s sign, "Nate’s Back!" bright. A woman shouted, "Smash Macclesfield, lads!" her scarf aloft, their faith a fire. Niels waved, Macclesfield’s pitch and the draw a dual riddle.

Tuesday’s Macclesfield Battle

Tuesday’s bus to Macclesfield, a three-hour trek, was tense, the squad’s focus sharp despite Burnley’s high. Nate, a sub, tapped his foot, eager to return, while Thiago’s earbuds leaked samba, prompting Korey Henry’s grin, "Save it for their defense, Thiago!" At Moss Rose, 1,500 fans packed the stands, Crawley’s 200 chanting, "Red Devils!" against the din. Niels’ voice cut through, "Press hard, lads. Thiago, Luka, stretch ’em. Kieron, leave no gaps. For Crawley." The whistle blew, Macclesfield’s grit clashing with Crawley’s fire.

Kickoff:

The game crackled, Macclesfield’s wingers darting. In the 5th minute, their striker outpaced Dev Patel, his shot tipped wide by Fletcher, Crawley’s fans exhaling, "Fletch-er!" In the 12th minute, Jamal’s tackle sparked a counter, his pass to Baxter finding Thiago, whose shot was blocked, the home crowd roaring. Kieron shadowed their playmaker, his clip earning a glare but no whistle, Max’s nod, "Solid, lad," grounding him. In the 20th minute, Macclesfield’s winger cut inside Reece Darby, his cross headed over, Fletcher’s shout, "Mine!" piercing the noise.

In the 30th minute, Crawley struck. Baxter, Instinct Lens [Creative spark] flaring, threaded a pinpoint pass, Thiago, Instinct Lens [Silky technique] glowing, jinking past two defenders, rifling a low shot past the keeper, 1-0. Crawley’s 200 fans erupted, "Thi-a-go!" scarves twirling, a man in a red cap pounding the barrier, "That’s our boy!" Niels clapped, "Keep it tight, lads!" but Macclesfield rallied, their striker’s 40th-minute shot skimming the bar, Crawley’s fans chanting, "Hold firm!"

The second half was grueling, Macclesfield leveling in the 55th minute, a deflection off Dev trickling past Fletcher, 1-1.

The home crowd roared, but Crawley’s 200 sang, "Red Devils!" a girl’s sign, "We Fight!" glowing. Niels urged, "Push, lads!" Luka’s 60th-minute run drew a foul, Baxter’s free-kick curling wide. In the 70th minute, Baxter’s corner arced, Luka rising above their center-back, his header rippling the net, 2-1.

Moss Rose fell silent, Crawley’s fans exploding, "Lu-ka!" Niels roared, "That’s it, boys!" Stoppage time brought three tense minutes, Fletcher’s diving save sealing the win, Crawley’s fans chanting, "We are Crawley!" as the whistle blew, 2-1.

Fulltime: Macclesfield 1-2 Crawley

Niels embraced Luka, "World-class, kid," the squad’s fire steeled, Morecambe next.

Wednesday’s Recovery

Wednesday’s training was recovery-focused, stretches easing Macclesfield’s toll. Nate’s touch in rondos was sharp, his grin to Kieron, "I’m back, mate," warm. Thiago’s stepovers drew laughs, Ilyas Kadir’s quip, "Save it for Darlington, Thi!" playful. Fans swelled to a hundred, chanting, "FA Cup!" a boy’s sign, "Smash Darlington!" bold. Niels read a fan letter, "You’re our heart," its words a pulse, the draw’s suspense and Darlington’s challenge looming.

Thursday’s Darlington Prep

Thursday’s session honed set-pieces, Broadfield’s stands set to host 3,000 fans on Saturday. Niels’ speech was fierce, "Morecambe’s fighting relegation, lads, but we’re hungrier. Nate, you start. Jamal, lock their strikers. For Crawley." Training clicked, Baxter’s corners finding Max and Korey, their headers crisp. Nate’s sprint matched Jamal’s, his grin, "Ready, boss," a fire. Fans chanted, "Red Devils!" a woman’s sign, "Quarter-Finals!" bright. Niels’ chest tightened, the draw a shadow, Morecambe a hurdle.

Saturday’s Morecambe Rout

Saturday, February 27, saw Broadfield pulse, 3,000 fans roaring, "Red Devils!" Morecambe’s 100 supporters drowned out. Niels’ voice boomed, "Dominate, lads. Thiago, Baxter, tear ’em up. Nate, show ’em you’re back." The whistle blew, Crawley surging. In the 10th minute, Thiago’s run drew a foul, Baxter’s free-kick tipped over. In the 25th minute, Baxter’s corner arced, Max rising, his header ripping the net, 1-0. Broadfield erupted, "Max-y!" a boy’s sign, "FA Cup Fire!" glowing.

Morecambe fought, their striker outpacing Reece in the 35th minute, but Fletcher’s sprawling save kept it 1-0, fans chanting, "Fletch-er!" In the 50th minute, Kieron’s tackle sparked a counter, Luka’s shot blocked. In the 60th minute, Thiago, Instinct Lens [Silky technique] flaring, weaved through three defenders, his curling shot making it 2-0, his dance sparking cheers, "Thi-a-go!" A woman in a red scarf wept, "We’re giants!" her voice raw.

Nate, starting, was electric, his 75th-minute run drawing a foul. In the 85th minute, Baxter’s pass found Nate, his tap-in sealing a 3-0 rout, his roar, "For Crawley!" shaking the stands. Broadfield sang, "Sweet Crawley Town!" a man’s sign, "Nate’s Return!" soaring. Niels grinned, "That’s our fire, lads!" league points secure, the draw now front and center.

Sunday’s Anticipation

Sunday, February 28, was rest, but the draw’s eve crackled. Niels sat with Max at Broadfield, tactics board blank, the FA Cup a riddle. Max’s voice was low, "Lads are flying, boss, but the draw’s huge." Niels nodded, "We’ve felled giants, Max. We’re ready." Elise’s text buzzed, "Draw’s tomorrow, bro. Smash it!" her faith a warmth, but Niels’ chest tightened, a Premier League storm brewing.

March 1’s Draw

March 1 dawned cold, the draw set for noon. The squad gathered in Broadfield’s canteen, a TV flickering, fans outside chanting, "Red Devils!" Thiago’s leg bounced, Luka’s jaw tight, Nate’s nod to Kieron calm but eager. Niels stood, voice firm, "Whoever we get, lads, we’re Crawley, we fight." The BBC host’s voice crackled, "FA Cup Quarter-Final draw, Crawley Town await..." Names rolled: Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal each a titan. Crawley’s name emerged, paired with... West Ham United.

The room froze, Thiago’s mutter, "Strong team again," fierce. Max nodded, "Burnley fell, they will too." Niels’ pulse raced, West Ham’s Upton Park a cauldron, their strikers a puzzle for March 29. Outside, fans roared, "We are Crawley!" a girl’s sign, "West Ham Next!" bold. Niels’ chest tightened, the FA Cup a dream alive but steep, West Ham’s aura a storm. Could his squad, fierce but small, fell another giant, or would the Premier League’s weight break them? Would Nate’s fire spark a miracle, or was this dream too vast? With the rise in fourth place in the league table, could Niels chase both promotion and cup glory or would the quarter-final draw mark the start of a fall?

[League: Matches: 32, Wins: 18, Draws: 5, Losses: 9, Points: 59, Position: 4th]

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