"Wednesday?" I said, and I heard the uncertainty in my own voice. "That's... that's really soon."

"I know," Gary said, and his expression softened slightly. "Look, I wouldn't normally spring this on you, but I think it's a good opportunity. Millwall are physical, direct, exactly the kind of team you'll face in the league. It's a perfect test for your pressing system. And it's closed doors, so there's no pressure. Just you, your staff, and the players."

Closed doors. No pressure. Except that wasn't true, was it? The media were watching my every move. The articles about the "unqualified manager" hadn't stopped. If I asked for more time, if I backed down from this challenge, it would be another headline. Another reason for people to doubt me.

"What if we're not ready?" I asked, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded. "We've been training the system, but we haven't played a proper match yet. What if the lads panic? What if it all falls apart?"

Gary looked at me for a long moment. "Then it falls apart, and you learn from it. But Danny, you've been here for seven weeks. You've built a system. You've hired a staff. You've earned the players' respect. At some point, you have to test it. And better to test it in a closed-door friendly than in a league match that actually matters."

He was right. I knew he was right. But the fear was still there, gnawing at me.

"Can I think about it?" I asked.

"Sure," Gary said. "But I need an answer by this afternoon. Millwall need to confirm."

He left, and I stood there in the empty conference room, my mind racing. Two days. Two days to prepare for a match against a team I knew nothing about. Two days to get the lads ready, to make sure they could execute under pressure, to prove that everything we'd been building actually worked.

I could ask for more time. I could tell Gary we needed another week, another two weeks. But then what? The media would have a field day. "Walsh too scared to face Millwall." "Unqualified manager backs down from first challenge." I could see the headlines already.

And worse, what would the players think? What would Sarah, Rebecca, and Michael think? That I didn't believe in them? That I didn't trust the work we'd done?

I pulled out my phone and texted Emma.

Gary just offered us a friendly match against Millwall. Wednesday. Two days away. Don't know if we're ready.

Her response came within seconds.

Are you ever going to feel ready? Sometimes you just have to jump.

I stared at the message. She was right. I'd been waiting to feel ready for seven weeks. Waiting to feel like I belonged, like I knew what I was doing, like I was good enough. But that feeling never came. Maybe it never would.

I walked out of the conference room and found Sarah on the pitch with Rebecca and Michael, setting up for the training session. The players were arriving, changing in the locker room, getting ready for the day.

"Sarah," I called out. "Can I have a word?"

She jogged over, and I saw the concern in her eyes. "What did Gary want?"

"Millwall U18s. Friendly match. Wednesday, 2 pm. Closed doors." I paused. "He wants an answer by this afternoon."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Wednesday? That's two days away."

"I know."

"Have we even seen footage of them? Do we know their style? Their strengths?"

"No. Nothing. We'd be going in blind."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then she looked at me. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Part of me wants to say no, ask for more time. But the media are watching. If I back down, it's another headline. Another reason for people to doubt me."

"Forget the media," Sarah said firmly. "What do you think is best for the team?"

I looked out at the pitch, at the players starting to emerge from the changing room. Reece, Nya, Connor, Ryan. Twenty lads who'd been working their arses off for seven weeks, learning the system, buying into the vision. They deserved a chance to prove themselves. And maybe I did too.

"I think we take it," I said. "I think we've done the work. I think the lads are ready. And if they're not, we'll learn from it."

Sarah nodded slowly. "Okay. Then we take it. But we need to move fast. I'll find footage of Millwall today, analyze their style, and put together a tactical plan. Rebecca can adjust the training schedule to make sure the lads are fresh for Wednesday. Michael can work with Ryan on set pieces. We can do this."

I felt something shift inside me. Not confidence, exactly, but determination. We'd come this far. We'd built something. Now it was time to test it.

"Right," I said. "Let's do it."

I texted Gary: We're in. Wednesday, 2 pm. We'll be ready.

His response was immediate: Good man. I'll confirm with Millwall.

The players arrived at 10 am for training, and I gathered them in the changing room. Twenty faces looked at me, and I felt the weight of what I was about to tell them.

"Right, lads, listen up," I said.

"First, I want to introduce two new members of our staff. Rebecca Thompson, our fitness coach, and Michael Steele, our goalkeeping coach. They're here to help you improve, to push you, and to make sure you're ready for the season. Treat them with respect, listen to what they say, and work hard."

Rebecca stepped forward. "Morning, lads. I'm here to make you fitter, faster, and stronger. We'll be doing baseline assessments this week, and then I'll be building individualized programs for each of you. It's going to be hard work, but I promise you'll see results."

Michael nodded. "And I'll be working with the goalkeepers. Ryan, you're my priority, but I'll be available for all of you."

I took a breath. "Second thing. We've got a match. Wednesday, 2 pm. Millwall U18s. Friendly, closed doors, at their training ground."

The room erupted. Excited chatter, nervous energy, questions flying.

***

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