England dropped him at the U17s. Not for lack of talent, but for attitude. Coaches said he was disruptive and didn't fit the team culture. He'd been stagnating ever since. Should be in the U23s by now with his talent, maybe even the first-team squad of Crystal Palace. But his attitude held him back.

"And here's the kicker," Gary said, his voice low.

"He's the chairman's godson. Steve Parish's best friend's son. So we can't just release him. We have to try to fix him. The previous coach made some progress, but then Brentford came calling with an assistant manager role. Can't blame him for taking it. But it means Connor's reset again. He's your problem now."

"Why hasn't anyone benched him?" I asked. "Taught him consequences?"

"Politics," Gary said simply. "The Chairman wants him to succeed. Puts pressure on coaches to play him."

"So I'm expected to fix his attitude while also playing him?"

"Welcome to academy football. It's not always fair."

I thought about JJ Johnson, about Jamie Scott, about all the difficult players I'd worked with. "I've handled worse. JJ Johnson was released by Man City for attitude. I fixed him. He's playing Championship football now."

"Connor's different," Gary warned. "JJ wanted to prove people wrong. Connor thinks he's already proven. He's entitled."

"Then I'll make him want it," I said, my voice firm. "I'll find his motivation."

Gary smiled, a genuine, warm smile. "Good luck. You'll need it. But I believe you can do it. That's why you're here."

At lunchtime, I sat in the academy canteen, overwhelmed by the options.

Professional chef, hot meals, salad bar, protein shakes, fruit. Everything free. I was used to meal-prepping cheap pasta at Moss Side.

Paul Williams and Marcus Reid sat with me, the conversation cautious but warming. Marcus had been impressed by the session, by my tactical structure and clear communication. Paul was grudgingly impressed, admitting that the players had responded well.

Gary joined us, reminding me that I had access to the first-team gym, swimming pool, and recovery facilities. "Use them. Stay fit. Long season ahead."

"Seriously?" I said, still adjusting to the scale of it all. "I can use the first-team gym?"

"You're a Palace employee," Gary said. "All staff have access. Perks of the job."

"This is... this is incredible."

"This is professional football. Get used to it."

That evening, alone in my flat, I called Emma. Just hearing her voice, that familiar Manchester accent, was like a lifeline. I told her everything.

The security pass, the kit room, the pitches, the staff skepticism, the players, Connor's attitude, the pressing drills, the breakthrough moment, and Gary's story about Connor's past. I talked non-stop for an hour, my words tumbling over each other, my excitement and exhaustion bleeding through every sentence.

"It's so different here," I admitted. "London. It's massive. I feel like a tiny fish in an ocean. In Manchester, I knew the streets, the people, the rhythms. Here, I'm just... lost."

"You sound happy," she said, her voice warm. "Exhausted, but happy."

"I am," I admitted. "But I miss you. The flat feels empty without you."

"I know. I miss you too. And I miss Manchester. But you need to focus. This is your time. Your dream. You left home for a reason. Don't waste it being sad."

"I'm not sad. Just... lonely."

"Lonely is temporary," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Regret is permanent. Make the most of this, Danny. I'll see you in two weeks."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now eat something proper, not takeaway. You have a kitchen. Use it."

I laughed, made simple pasta, and ate alone. The flat was silent except for the unfamiliar sounds of London outside - sirens, distant voices speaking in accents I didn't recognize, the rumble of trains on tracks I didn't know. I missed the sounds of Manchester. The trams. The rain on the windows. Emma's laughter filling the space.

I turned on the TV and watched highlights of the Palace first team. Wilfried Zaha, a product of this academy, was tearing apart Premier League defenses. A South London lad who'd made it. One day, I thought. One day, I'll coach players who make it there. Maybe even take them back to Old Trafford, back to Manchester, and show them where I came from.

Later that night, I opened the system. The numbers told the story. Staff approval was mixed, high from those who interviewed me, low from those who didn't. Player respect was low, but growing. And then, the final notifications.

[SYSTEM] Career Milestone Complete: 'The Miracle of Moss Side'.

[SYSTEM] Achievement Unlocked: 'County League Champions'.

[SYSTEM] Achievement Unlocked: 'UEFA B Licence (Distinction)'.

[SYSTEM] Achievement Unlocked: 'Professional Appointment'.

[SYSTEM] Massive XP Bonus Awarded: 5,000 XP.

[SYSTEM] You have reached Level 22.

[SYSTEM] Your Managerial Reputation has increased to: 'Rising Star'.

[SYSTEM] New Chapter Unlocked: 'The Academy Years'.

[SYSTEM] New Quest Available: 'Develop a Star'.

• Objective: Guide one U18 player to Crystal Palace first-team debut within 2 years.

• Reward: Reputation upgrade to 'Proven Developer', career advancement opportunity, £10,000 performance bonus.

• Difficulty: Very High.

[SYSTEM] Primary Objective: Develop Crystal Palace U18s into professional footballers.

• Success Criteria: 3 players to first-team debut within 2 years.

• Challenge: Earn respect, prove yourself, navigate academy politics, handle difficult players.

[SYSTEM] Career Progression Complete: Convenience Store Worker → County League Manager → Premier League Academy Coach.

[SYSTEM] You have come further than you ever imagined.

[SYSTEM] You have achieved what others said was impossible.

[SYSTEM] You have earned this opportunity.

[SYSTEM] Now prove you deserve to keep it.

[SYSTEM] New opportunities are now available.

[SYSTEM] Good luck, Manager Walsh.

I stood on the balcony of my flat at 11 pm, looking out at the London skyline, the city a galaxy of twinkling lights stretching endlessly in every direction. It was nothing like Manchester.

Back home, the skyline was familiar, comforting - the Beetham Tower, the red brick warehouses, the industrial heritage visible in every street. London was vast, sprawling, impersonal. A city of eight million people where I knew exactly two: Gary Issott and myself.

***

Thank you to chisum_lane for the inspiration capsule.

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