Freekick

Edward stood on the sidelines, watching the Brighton U21 team train with an intensity that matched his passion for the sport. His eyes were particularly fixed on the likes of Jamal Musiala, Jude Bellingham, and Michael Olise—three of the brightest prospects he had brought into the club. The other young talents, who had also shown great promise, were currently out on loan, gaining valuable experience.

His assistant, Siana, approached him, clipboard in hand. "It's so interesting overseeing actual footballers train, they're so interesting."

Edward nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips as he watched Musiala control the ball with effortless grace. "They are. These boys have incredible potential."

Despite the progress on the training pitch, Edward's mind was preoccupied with the myriad responsibilities he juggled. Revamping Brighton was a monumental task in itself, but he also had to focus on Stark Lizard. Currently, he was scouring the market for top-tier analysts while simultaneously attempting to raise funds by selling off stock. As the majority shareholder, this was a far better option than handing over stock to his uncles, who were hounding him relentlessly.

"They still think I'm the weak-willed kid I once was," Edward mused aloud, more to himself than to Siana. "But they'll soon realize I've grown far beyond that."

Edward's thoughts then turned to the shadowy attempts by Sheikh Saeed to gain control in Brighton. The Sheikh had made a move, trying to invest in Brighton's training ground through a flagship company where his involvement was carefully concealed. Edward had spotted the maneuver and had been quietly tracking it.

"Tricky, but not tricky enough," Edward said, his voice firm. "I've been through many situations like this."

His eyes drifted back to the pitch, where Bellingham was putting on a show. With a deft flick of his foot, Bellingham sent the ball sailing over a defender's head, then took a long shot that struck the crossbar with a resounding thud. The young midfielder's skill drew applause from the small group of onlookers.

"The future is secured," Edward thought, feeling a sense of pride and optimism. Brighton was currently in 12th place with six points from four games—not the start he had hoped for, but he knew the team would find their rhythm soon. The talent was there; it was only a matter of time.

Siana handed Edward a fresh report on the latest training metrics, but Edward's eyes remained on the pitch. "They'll get there," he said, more to reassure himself than anyone else. "We just need to be patient and keep pushing forward."

The following day, Brighton faced Barnet in the EFL Cup and secured a comfortable 2-0 victory. Though the cup competitions were not a priority, Edward wasn't opposed to the team going far. With no European commitments and their players not heavily involved in national teams, their fitness levels could be managed effectively.

Edward sat in his office after the match, reflecting on the game. "The team is slowly becoming more aggressive," he noted to himself. "Players like Barella are receiving a lot of praise."

He leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "But you know how football is. One moment you're a superstar, like Dele Alli, and the next you're playing in Turkey for Beşiktaş."

Edward's gaze shifted to the window, where he could see the training ground in the distance. "That's why players' mental health is so important. It's why I brought in a club therapist. I'm not sure if any other team has done this, but for our players, I knew it was needed."

He felt a sense of fulfillment. "We're building a family. And families look out for each other."

<> 

The Brighton players were warming up on the pitch, preparing for their match against Bournemouth. Nicolo Barella, Rodri, Matthijs de Ligt, and Alisson were in a huddle, chatting as they stretched and went through their routines.

"I made my debut for Brazil already," Alisson said, a note of pride in his voice. "It's been a blessing. I credit God for everything."

De Ligt nodded. "I've been with the Netherlands under nineteens, but the senior team manager spoke to me the other day. It feels like a step closer to the big stage."

Barella chimed in, "The Italy under twenty-one manager has been in touch with me too. It's exciting."

Rodri smiled, though a bit wistfully. "I'm already with the Spain youth team, but breaking into the senior squad is tough. The competition is fierce. You've got guys like Busquets, Iniesta, Koke, and Saul Niguez. It's a midfield stacked with talent."

"Don't say that," Alisson interjected. "Believe that God can help you achieve anything."

They all nodded in agreement, turning their focus back to the upcoming match. Barella pointed towards the Bournemouth players warming up on the other side of the pitch. "We should watch out for that guy," he said, indicating Joshua King. "He's been in great form."

"King's pace and skill can be dangerous," Rodri noted. "Nagelsmann emphasized individual marking. We need to stay tight on him."

"Right," Alisson agreed. "Nagelsmann wants us to press high and be aggressive. We need to make sure we don't give them any space to operate."

De Ligt added, "And always be aware of Defoe. His positioning and finishing are top-notch. One lapse, and he can punish us."

The conversation turned back to Nagelsmann's strategies. "He told me to focus on intercepting their midfield play," Rodri said. "Disrupt their flow before they can even think about attacking."

Barella nodded, a determined look on his face. "We'll destroy this team. If we execute our game plan, they won't stand a chance."

With their tactics clear and confidence high, the players finished their warm-up, ready to take on Bournemouth.

<> 

Matchday: Brighton vs. Bournemouth

The match kicked off with a flurry of activity, both teams eager to establish dominance. Brighton's high press and aggressive approach, as directed by Nagelsmann, immediately put pressure on Bournemouth's backline. However, Bournemouth was resilient, holding their shape and looking for opportunities to counter.

In the 13th minute, Bournemouth's moment came. Joshua King, quick and agile, found himself in possession just outside the Brighton penalty area. With a deft touch, he flicked the ball through Lewis Dunk's legs, a perfectly executed nutmeg that left Dunk flat-footed. King sprinted forward, bearing down on goal, with only Alisson to beat.

From the sidelines, Nagelsmann's urgent shouts could be heard, trying to rally his defense. But it was too late to stop King's breakaway. The stadium held its breath as Alisson prepared himself, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he had mere seconds to make a decision.

Alisson's mind raced. "Do I rush out or hold my ground?" he thought, eyes locked on King. The Brazilian goalkeeper watched King's every move, looking for any sign that might give away the forward's intention.

King's first touch was heavy, and that was all Alisson needed. He surged forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. King, realizing his window was closing, took his shot. Alisson's reflexes kicked in, and he threw himself low and to his right, his body stretched out in a perfect arc.

The ball struck Alisson's outstretched arm with a force that reverberated through his entire body. The save was magnificent, a split-second decision executed to perfection. The ball ricocheted off Alisson's glove and went out for a corner.

The Brighton crowd erupted in cheers, their relief palpable. Alisson's teammates rushed towards him, their faces lit with admiration and gratitude. De Ligt slapped him on the back, shouting, "Let's go!" as the others gathered around, hyping him up.

"Great save, Alisson!" Barella yelled, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. The team's energy surged, their confidence bolstered by their goalkeeper's heroics.

As the ball was set for the corner, Brighton regrouped, ready to defend their goal once more. Alisson took a deep breath, his heart rate gradually slowing. He looked at his teammates, nodding in assurance.

Despite Alisson's heroics, Bournemouth continued to trouble Brighton, repeatedly finding gaps in their defense. Alisson had to make several more brilliant saves to keep the scoreline level. Brighton's players seemed to be struggling, unable to assert their dominance.

During halftime, the tension in the Brighton dressing room was palpable. Bruno, the captain, spoke first, his voice steady but stern. "It's nil-nil, and we're not fighting hard enough. They're being physical with us, and we need to push ourselves."

Alisson, still energized from his saves, spoke up. "We need to show more fight. They're dominating us in the midfield. We can't let them push us around."

Rodri, who had been contemplating his place in the Spain team, nodded. He knew he needed to step up. "I'll show up more. We need to control the midfield."

Others, like Knockaert, were playing loosely, getting the ball taken away too easily. Nagelsmann, seeing the need for a change, made a decisive call. "Sancho, you're in. Knockaert, out."

Knockaert protested, his frustration evident. "Why me? I've been trying!"

Nagelsmann looked at him, as much as he was all for giving players chances, Knockaert didn't even seem any more determined than he was before coming into the locker room. "We need everyone at their best and you're not pushing hard enough." He then turned to the rest of the team, his voice firm and motivating. "We can win this. We need to play our game. Be aggressive, be smart, and trust each other."

Brighton came out with renewed energy and determination. They started to find their rhythm, getting into a groove that had eluded them in the first half. Their passing became sharper, their movements more coordinated.

On the left side of the pitch, a beautiful sequence of play unfolded. Barella received the ball and quickly passed it to Sancho. Sancho, with a deft touch, knocked it back to Barella. Rodri moved into space, receiving the ball from Barella and immediately laying it off to De Ligt, who had pushed forward.

De Ligt, with a quick one-two with Rodri, shifted the play back to Barella. The Italian midfielder then flicked the ball to Sancho, who had positioned himself perfectly. Sancho returned the ball to Barella, who found Rodri again with a precise pass.

The ball moved fluidly between them, creating triangles in tight spaces, each pass sharp and purposeful. The Bournemouth defenders struggled to keep up with the swift, coordinated play.

Sancho, now with the ball again, executed a quick one-two with Barella, freeing himself from his marker. He dribbled forward, cutting inside. Seeing an opening, he threaded a pass through to Matinez, who had surged into the box.

Martinez, with a quick touch to control, shot at goal. The Bournemouth keeper made a reflex save, but the rebound fell to March, who had followed up. March's first-time shot was blocked, but the ball ricocheted to Barella at the edge of the box. Barella struck it cleanly, the ball curving towards the top corner.

The keeper, at full stretch, managed to tip it over the bar for a corner. The Brighton players and fans alike cheered the fluid, attacking play. They were in sync, their movements and passes creating beautiful, dynamic football.

Nagelsmann, on the sidelines, clapped and shouted encouragement. "That's it! Keep it up!" The players returned to their positions for the corner, their confidence soaring. They knew they were close to breaking the deadlock.

In the 65th minute, Brighton's persistence bore fruit. Michy Batshuayi, who had been subbed on for March, received a pass just outside the penalty area. He turned sharply, evading his marker, but the ball was poked away from him at the last moment. The loose ball rolled towards Rodri, who was perfectly positioned at the edge of the box.

Rodri took one touch to settle the ball before smashing it low and hard into the crowded penalty area. The ball skidded through the forest of legs and Martinez, leaping, managed to get his leg to it. His effort was slightly off target, but luck was on Brighton's side. The ball struck the leg of Simon Francis, deflecting past the helpless Bournemouth goalkeeper and into the net.

Brighton, now buoyed by their lead, continued to press Bournemouth, looking for a second goal to seal the game. Their fluid passing and relentless pressure kept Bournemouth on the back foot.

In the 78th minute, Brighton earned a free kick just outside the Bournemouth penalty area after Barella was fouled. Pascal Groß, known for his precision from set-pieces, stepped up to take the kick. The crowd fell silent, anticipation hanging in the air.

Groß eyed the wall and the goal, calculating his approach. With a measured run-up, he struck the ball with his right foot, curling it over the wall with pinpoint accuracy. The ball dipped and swerved, eluding the outstretched fingers of the Bournemouth goalkeeper and nestling into the top corner of the net.

The stadium exploded in celebration once more, the away fans chanting Groß's name. The Brighton players swarmed Groß, congratulating him on his superb strike.

With a two-goal cushion, Brighton continued to control the game, their confidence palpable. Bournemouth tried to mount a comeback, but Alisson and the Brighton defense stood firm. Every Bournemouth attack was met with resolute defending and quick counterattacks from Brighton.

As the final whistle blew, the scoreline read 2-0 in favor of Brighton. The players embraced, their hard-fought victory a testament to their resilience and teamwork. Alisson, whose early heroics had kept them in the game, was hailed as one of the key figures in their triumph.