[FM17] The Maple and the Eagle

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 25​

As he walked out of the stadium it was eerily quiet, setting the tone for the conversation that would be taking place in a matter of moments. As Kamil Aftyka approached him Scott felt the weight of the world press down on him like never before.

Kamil Aftyka, the chairman had built a reputation of someone that seemed as unpredictable as the weather. He looked Scott square in the eyes, both mens expressions unreadable, both faces masks that held secrets and half truths

‘Scott’ Kamil began ‘I’ve been looking for you’ Scott didn’t believe this for a second as he, Peter and Marcin had been locked in the office for hours. He didn’t say anything so Kamil took the hint and said ‘I need to tell you something. I’m selling the team’

For a long moment time seemed to freeze. Scotts mind was trying to compute what Kamil had just said and his heart hammered in his chest like a wild animal trying to break free. The words hit him like a sucker punch below the belt, unexpected, brutal and loaded with uncertain consequences. His mind starting racing with scenarios; new owners, new rules, new and possibly lower ambitions that might not include him at the helm of the very team he’d been painstakingly building

‘What on Earth? You’re selling the club?’ Scotts voice was rough, barley above a whisper

Kamils eyes softened for a moment, just a split second, as if weighing the burden of his words ‘Yes, Scott, I am. The decision has been made, but it wasn’t taken lightly. And listen, your contract you signed, your role as manager, it will be honored as part of the deal, I promise you that’

Promise. The word rang hollow in the storm of Scotts thoughts. Even with that assurance the future now looked murky. New owners meant new agendas, new pressures and aims, and the season was already a delicate balancing act

Scotts inner turmoil roiled like a dark sea. He’d fought tooth and nail to make sure Sleza weren’t relegation candidates last season and to build something out of nothing. Now, the very foundation of that work was about to be uprooted by the shifting winds of new ownership. He felt like a lone fighter standing in the rain, uncertain whether the coming tempest would lift him to glory, or tear him and the team apart

He stared at Kamil his eyes mixing with defiance and dread ‘you know what this means, don’t you? A change in management, a change in priorities. We’re on the brink of a good run and I'm aiming for promotion. Now I’m supposed to worry about what the new owners want with our team?’

Kamil spoke, voice soft but insistent ‘Scott, change is inevitable. I wouldn’t be making the deal if I didn’t believe you’re the right man to lead this club through whatever comes next, trust me when I say that. And trust me when I say that your contract stands, you have nothing to fear from the deal’

But trust was a fragile thing in the world of football, a world of shattered dreams and broken promises. Scott could only nod as his mind was a storm of anxious thoughts and worries. He wondered if he’d ever be free of the weight of expectations or if he’d be forever known as the relegation saviour, forced to rescue teams only to see them crumble under new ambitions.

As the day went on Scott felt the chill of uncertainty seep into his bones. The season ahead was already riddled with high stakes and fresh gambles and now carried an extra burden, a future not entirely his to control.

In that moment he made a silent vow, that he would fight on, not just to save a team from the abyss but to carve his own destiny amid the chaos of change. Whether the new owners would be friend or foe he knew one thing for certain; he would not let this shift in power define him.

The club might get sold, new owners might come in but Scotts resolve would burn as fiercely as ever, even if his heart trembled beneath the weight of uncertainty.

– – – – --

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 26​

​

The night before was cold and ruthless, a fitting stage for a game of chance and grit. In the locker room Scott was eyeing his newly appointed captain, last seasons vice captain Kajetan Latka, and the newly confirmed vice captain Alain Ngamayama. Their faces were set and steeled for the battle ahead. The Polish FA cup first round lay before them, a chance to get some early form and to let the other teams in the league know he's more than just a relegation salvager.

On the pitch the cup match against Sandecja began like a tense, slow burning fuse. Jakub Jakobczyk broke the silence in the 22nd minute, his strike slicing through the gloom to give Ślęza the lead. The crowd’s murmur was a low expectant growl, but the game held its breath.

For the next fifty minutes of the game both teams were swapping hard tackles and fleeting opportunities. The air was thick with sweat, grime and the echo of a thousand doubts. But then in the seventy second minute Sandecja equalised. A low shot that crept into the bottom corner.

That goal forced Scott to grit his teeth, the balance had been shattered.

But as if fate had more cards to play, the new signing Diego Malania, whose signing had been received with optimistic caution, capitilsed on a set piece from the kick off for the equaliser. His header, precise and hard carved the path for the rest of the game.

A brief moment later, Jaroszek, the other new signing in defence seemed to seal the deal, however the linesman had raised his flag and ruled his headed goal offside.

The decision was bitter but irrelevant as Ślęza held on for a 2-1 victory.

That victory was tainted however. The other striker in the first team Mikolaj Koftas, had been forced off with an injury, a cruel twist in the tale. As Scott surveyed the post match scene in the floodlit stands of the stadium, worry started gnawing at him. The cup game was an early taste of success in the new season but the team was now dangerously thin up front. After letting Antowiak leave and this injury, he was left with just the one fit striker, Jakobczyk, a player as crucial as he was vulnerable.

After the players had all left and there was just Scott and Marcin left in the locker room, Scott said ‘Koftas is down’ his tone a mix of frustration and fear ‘we’re running with one forward. If Jakobczyk gets injured, then what?’ he let the comment sit before adding ‘the league starts next week away at Elbląg. They might have been relegated and looking to go back up, but you know how unpredictable the opening day of the season can be’

Maricn leaned in with steady eyes ‘I know Scott, I’ve got my ear to the ground and the scout has come back to me already, and I think I’ve found the answer. A striker with the right blend of grit and hunger to slot in easily. Leave it with me a day or so, I’ll get back to you with the details’

Scott stared into the dim light, his mind now a whirlpool of ambition and doubt. The new season was days away, a season where every match would be a gamble, every minute a risk of failure. He had saved two teams from relegation but he craved a legacy that transcended mere survival, a legacy of a winner.

His heart pounded as he contemplated the precarious future. With fresh faces taking up leadership positions on the pitch and an early victory in the cup to mask deeper vulnerabilities, the challenge ahead was monumental. And beneath it all Scott wrestled with his own restless spirit, a yearning to prove he was more than just a saviour of teams, that he was a man capable of forging winners, even as the bitter chill of uncertainty crept into every corner of his soul. Scott knew this was only the beginning. Every decision, every gamble from here on out would either carve his name into glory or leave him as nothing more than a man haunted by what might have been.

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 27​

The wind was racing outside the office window, a relentless percussion that matched Scott Lańkowski’s inner turmoil. The new season was about to begin and in his mind the stakes had never been higher. Ślęza’s only fit striker was Jakub Jakobczyk, while an excellent player, one man alone couldn’t carry the weight of a promotion push.

Across the cluttered desk, Marcin spread out the scouting report like a talisman. With a resolute tone he said ‘Leândro, Radomiak’s striker, 16 in 24 last season, even though they went down. We can secure him for thirteen thousand. He’ll walk straight into the team for the game against Olimpia Elbląg’

Scotts eyes narrowed, dark clouds gathering behind them ‘Radom, he couldn’t keep them up though. How can I trust a striker from a club that’s fallen so far?’ his voice was low and loaded with unease. Every harsh gust of wind echoed his doubts.

‘Because talent doesn’t always shine under the best conditions Scott. Leândro was the only bright spark in that sinking ship. I am certain he’s exactly what we need. The midfield of Mroz, Molski and Granowksi will love feeding him the ball, Jakub will thrive playing off him, so will Koftas. Leândro will do what he’s meant to do, I’m sure of it’ Marcin said with a firm tone

Scott just stared at the file, fingers tapping a rhythm on the desk. The notion of signing a striker from a fallen club gnawed at him ‘I’m not sure’ he muttered ‘it’s a gamble, and we know this season is all about gambles. What if he can’t adapt? He was their best player, he might not be our best player. What if his form was a product of their desperation and not real ability?’

Marcin was ready for this kind of question from Scott, but before he could reply with his already worked out answer, Peter Bastista made the move to convince the boss ‘we know sometimes we’ve got to take a chance, that’s what this season is all about. I’ve seen the boy play, he’s got a killer instinct and a natural eye for goal, the kind that our midfield can unlock. And we can’t afford to just rely on Jakub’

Scotts gaze shifted between the two men, his most trusted comrades. He replayed the words in his mind, each on stirring the restless battleground inside him. His mind raced back to the nights spent rescuing Bytom from relegation, the man who stopped that impending disaster. Now, in Wroclaw, with promotion the aim and on the line, he feared his growing reputation would be pinned on a gamble gone wrong.

Marcin’s eyes held steady as he said ‘this isn’t about playing it safe, it’s about evolving. We need a striker that can do more than just fill a void. Leândro is that spark’

Scott let out a long breath, his thoughts swirling like the wind outside. He finally nodded, though the weight of uncertainty clung to him ‘fine, okay’ he said, voice tight with determinant and a slight hint of resignation ‘bring him in’

The deal was done. Leândro was signed for a mere thirteen thousand five hundred Euro and the news spread through the ranks at the club like wildfire. Some of the players knew who he was and were happy to be playing alongside him. Błażej Radler was the first to comment, telling Scott that he’d been turned inside out on more than one occasion by the new signing.

In the first training session since his arrival, Leândro was a fresh face, but still an untested blade in the fire of competition. As the session commenced Scott was watching him closely. Every touch and every run carried the silent pressure of expectation. The midfield worked the drills and operated with surgical precision, feeding the ball into Leândro who was quick, hungry and seemed unburdened by past failures. Jakub Jakobczyk in contrast was happy playing off him and playing the ball into the new man, a seemingly quick transition to a new strike partner.

Yet even as he saw his two forwards flashes of teamwork and brilliance Scotts mind was a storm of worry. What if Jakobczyk went down, could Leândro bare the burden on his own shoulders? How long would Koftas be out if his injury flared up? The future was a tightrope walk over a chasm of doubt.

In the back of his mind Scotts internal voice whispered to him. This gamble might redefine him as more than a relegation stopper, it could be his chance to build a winning legacy. But the fear lingered, a specter in every shadow on the pitch.

Scott sat in the locker room later that day and he couldn’t shake the mix of hope and anxiety that gnawed at him. The new season was a double edged sword, a chance to be a winner or yet another gamble that might leave him haunted by the same old doubts.

In the darkness he vowed to watch every move, and to trust his new signing, and to fight every ounce of his being. Promotion was on the horizon but only time would tell if Leândro would be the man to lead them there, or if the gamble would come back to him and the team.

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 28​

The opening game of the season was here, and at the stadium it was a cathedral of wet concrete and shattered expectations, the cold wind slicing through the stands like the whisper of forgotten dreams. Ślęza Wrocław are the underdogs in the game, away at Olimpia Elbląg, a team that following their recent relegation are the favourites to bounce right back up into the second division. But in the crucible of rain and wind, the footballing gods had another plan.

The whistle blew to signal the start of the new season, and almost instantly, in a blur of gold and crimson shirts a neat one-two played out around the box between Leândro and Jakobczyk, a seamless give and go that shattered the noise from the expectant home fans in the crowd. In the very first minute, and the first attack of the game no less, Jakobczyk unleashed a first time shot that carved through the afternoon sun, finding the back of the net coming off Leândro’s subtle and sublime touch providing the perfect assist. The Elbląg players were all caught off guard and could only gape as the Ślęza players wheeled away in jubilation.

Scott Lańkowski, standing on the sideline, felt his heart pound like a drum in a back alley brawl. Shock and satisfaction mingled in his chest. He had expected a battle, a slog of survival. Instead, Ślęza had exploded right out of the blocks

Within ten minutes played the tempo had surged. A cross from the right by Mankowski met Leândro’s outstretched foot and the scoreboard changed to 2 in favour of Ślęza. A debut goal for the new signing.

Another fifteen minutes of football played in the game, which was quite close despite the scoreline, Leândro struck again, a cold clinical header just inside the box that left the home team reeling. 3-0 to Ślęza and cruising.

Barely eight minutes after the third goal, Leândro found space yet again and threaded a pass to set up Jakobczyk who made it 4-0 with a goal that seemed to defy the odds

As if on cue right from the restart again, Glanowski split the defense with a visionary pass. Jakobczyk already in unplayable form thumped home another goal, completing his hat trick on thirty five minutes that made the home crowd stunned in silent disbelief.

The half time whistle and respite from the game didn’t end the onslaught there; two minutes after the restart that man Leândro produced a moment of brilliance. Another forward pass from Jakobczyk found the new signing who went on a solo run that drew out three defending players in the mist and madness, then as the keeper came he toe poked the ball low and hard out of the outstretched arm to seal his own hat trick and the sixth goal for Ślęza.

To end the demolition of the league favourites, vice captain Ngamayama rose like a man possessed from an inswinging Mroz corner, his header sealing the staggering 7-0 victory

At full time Scott’s head was spinning with emotions. He could barley believe the scoreline, 7-0, etched in the bold against the scoreboard. His eyes beamed with pride as he watch the forwards Jakobczyk and Leândro in celebration, their partnership on the pitch a beacon of lethal promise. Yet beneath the admiration lay a simmering worry.

Quietly in the back of his mind Scott mulled over a difficult truth; if these two forwards carried the attack so brilliantly, what then of the on loan kid Koftas? The young striker, who Scott had taken a liking to and had promised would be a starter now seemed destined to be relegated to a rotation option, a role that stung his pride as much as it threatened the delicate balance of the team.

In the quiet of the locker room amid the echo of the tang of sweat and adrenaline, Scott spoke to Peter in a hushed almost resigned tone ‘I can’t believe what they’ve done today' he said, eyes reflecting both triumph and genuine shock ‘Jakobczyk and Leândro, they turned that game into an art form, but at what cost?’ It wasn’t a question, a mere statement referring to Koftas role in the team.

Peter shrugged and said ‘Scotty, we won tonight, both strikers got hat tricks and we showed the league we’re not messing around’ he waited a moment then said ‘we’ll figure it out as we go. We know Jakobczyk and Leândro can work together, Koftas when he’s back will have to play out of his skin every time to get the nod now. It’s a cut throat business the kid needs to know that’

But even as Peter’s words washed over him Scott’s mind remained a battleground of hope and doubt. The opening game was a tempest of promise, a glimpse of what might be if fate favoured them, as well as a stark reminder that every triumph in this cruel unforgiving game comes with a price.

Promotion, glory and the chance to build a legacy were all on the line. And tonight, amid the cheers and the goals, Scott vowed that he would forge a future where his name meant more than a last minute saviour.

It would be built by winners, no matter how many sacrifices it took.

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 29​

At the Ślęza training ground on the outskirts of the city, the air held the scent of wet earth mixing with the sweat of the early morning drills. Scott Lańkowski leaned against the chain link fence, watching the players chase elusive perfection in the muddy light. His mind, however, was far from the pitch.

Marcin Lachowski, ever the calm in the storm of transfers and contracts approached with his phone out ‘Scott, the deal’s done’ he said, tone measured and almost detached as usual ‘Mateusz Siodowy has agreed to to go GKS Katowice. I managed to get twenty six thousand for him’.

Scotts jaw tightened as he processed the news. Siodowy wasn’t just any player, he was a man had relied on and shaped in his days as Bytom manager, a beacon of loyalty and grit that he’d helped polish at Ślęza. Now this departure felt like he was losing a piece of himself.

‘Twenty six for Matty?’ Scott said with a bitter edge to his voice. He knew he couldn’t keep players in the third division, especially when top division teams come in for them, but this was tougher than the other sales ‘I trust him with everything on the pitch, he’s been the heartbeat of my defence for two seasons’

MArcins eyes betrayed a hint of sympathy and his words remained all business ‘it’s the game, Scott. Until we get up we have to sell when the price is right, we have to make moves if we’re to build a team to get us out of this division. The money was right, the timing could've been better, but we’re going places’

With a heavy sigh Scott made his way to the locker room where Siodowy was packing his gear and saying his goodbyes. The air was thick with unspoken words and the aroma of sweat and loss. He pulled Siodowy aside, his gaze locked on the worn lines of his own face hardened by the decision to sell.

‘Matty’ Scott began, tone gruff yet laced with genuine affection ‘you’ve been everything to me these last two years and I wish you the best in this new chapter, although I don’t really have the words…’ Siodowy cut him off by putting an arm around Scott, a silent understanding passing between them. With a nod and a muted farewell he left the locker room with his bag and like a ghost disappearing into the twilight walked out of the training ground to pastures new.

Back on the training pitch the storm of uncertainty was far from over. The local press had caught wind of a supporters trust making a play to buy the club which had been put up for sale, a potential lifeline that could upend the order of things. Whispers in the corridors and clattering keyboards promised a new era, but as the talks progressed between Kamil and the trust, they broke down, another fleeting hope in a world built on promises and broken deals.

In the midst of this latest sale Scott found himself questioning everything once again. Were these moves the necessary building blocks for a championship side, or was he simply unable to hold onto players he’d nurtured? Manolov, Antkowiak, Michalski and now Siodowy all great players, players to build a team around, he’d allowed to leave for profit.

The season was in full swing, and the record so far bore witness to his internal dilemma; a bright start with three wins from three, followed by two draws and two losses, one in the cup to Piast Gilwice that knocked them out, to round out the first month of the 2018/19 season. Now as Ślęza sat in fourth place, a respectable position no doubt, but a reminder that the margins between glory and mediocrity are razor thin.

Scott was stood alone in the office, lost in a tangle of regret and determination. The departure of Siodowy was a painful reminder of the harsh economics of the game, of choices that cut deeper than any tackle ever could. He wondered if his strategy was to build a team of true challengers or merely to patch the holes and keep the ship afloat.

In the murky light of the fading day Scotts inner voice whispered to him again, in the same cadence as the falling rain, questioning, doubting and yet refusing to yield ‘am I building a promotion worthy team, or just a patchwork of survivors? The season has just begun and every decision echoes in the corridors. But tomorrow, on that pitch I must show them that I can do more than just save teams, I must build a future’

The night came, and with torrential rain, heavy and unyielding, as Scott stared out into the darkness, the weight of his transfer choice pressing upon him like the ceaseless storm outside.

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 30​

The game was tough as expected, away at Olimpia Grudziądz. The match was a bitter cocktail of nerves and unexpected brilliance. Within the first minute sparks flew, another neat link up between Leândro and Jakobczyk sliced through the defence leaving the opposition staggered. Mateusz Broz, a familiar face to Scott from their time in Bytom, set up the equaliser with a deft pass which left center half Ngamayama straggling. As Broz jogged back to take up position in his half his eyes met Scotts across the pitch, a silent nod of mutual respect between them both that said ‘we’re both doing what we need to’

The momentum swung and Ślęza fought back, their attacking game a relentless edge. In a twist of fate or good fortune, young forward Koftas emerged from the bench for his first game back from injury, a spark in his own personal darkness. He carved open the defence with a goal that rekindled his hope and ignited the away fans. Then in a moment of precision and pressure he won a penalty that Glanowski cooly coveted, etching a 3-1 away win into the history books. Scotts heart pounded with cautious triumph as he watched the game unfold, a credible moment of harmony on the otherwise uncertain stage of league football.

Back at home the team rode high on that energy. They returned with a vengeance against Legionowo, smashing them 4-0 in a display of seamless cohesion and renewed confidence. Koftas grabbing two and Jakobczyk also continuing his goalscoring form.

The streets around the stadium hummed with the promise of a bright future, but as the lights dimmed on that euphoric afternoon, fate struck a cruel counterpoint.

In the next home match against Stomil Olsztyn, the magic vanished. The home pitch, usually a battleground of sweat and resolve, became a stage for disgrace. Ślęza’s performance crumbled under the weight of miscommunication and sluggish resolve, resulting in a shocking 4-0 loss that seared into Scott’s memory as the worst display in his tenure.

Rage coiled in him like a venomous snake. In the heat of the aftermath, with anger flashing in his eyes, Scott ordered a double training session for the next day, a brutal dose of reality aimed to mend fractured discipline.

The punishment on the training ground was as relentless as the rain, a merciless grind that left no room for weakness. And slowly, as if in answer to his fury, redemption came in the very next match. In the away fixture, the team traveled to Blekitni Stargard. Under a gray, watchful sky, they returned to form and vanquished their foes 4-0 in a pristine, ironic statement of resilience on enemy turf.

And while the pitch was a theater for redemption and despair, off of it uncertainty was brewing. Rumors swirled like smoke in a dimly lit back room, another new group was interested in buying the club, the third such group so far. Chairman Kamil Aftyka had already entered talks and whispers in the local press promised change again. The prospect of new ownership loomed like a spector, promising opportunity and upheaval.

Scott stood at the edge of it all, his mind a tangle of elation and dread. On the one hand, Jakobczyk and Leândro’s dazzling partnership had lit the path to victory; on the other, the crushing defeat at Stomil had left him questioning whether his vision was enough.

The pressure of potential change both on the field and in the boardroom pressed down on him. Every decision was a gamble with the future of Ślęza, a future that could either cement his legacy as a true builder of winners or condemn him to the role of perpetual savior.

As the rain fell once more, Scott’s eyes traced the empty stands of the stadium, a silent, mournful audience to his doubts and his dreams. He knew that tomorrow would bring another battle, another chance to prove that he was more than a mere fixer.

In that lingering moment between victory and ruin, amid whispers of change and the promise of redemption, Scott Lańkowski steeled himself for the trials ahead. The season was far from over, and with every step, he continued to forge a future where champions were born from fire, even if it meant burning everything else to the ground.

-- -- -- -- --​

 

[bigmattb28]

ii Liga. The big game. Ślęza Wrocław vs Polonia Warszawa​

The morning sun was casting sharp shadows over the training ground, cutting through Wroclaw’s usual bitter cold. Scott Lańkowski stood before the team in the locker room, his gaze focussed and steeled with resolve. The air was different today, not heavy with rain but charged with a fierce clarity.

‘Listen up boys’ he began with a low voice and unwavering ‘tomorrow we’ve got to have no fear. Nothing to lose and everything to gain. We take it to the leaders, Polonia Warsawa are top of the league as we know, and unbeaten in fifteen games. But that’s exactly why we must show them that we mean business. We’re not going to play it safe, we're going to fight for every inch. Remember I said at the start of the season this year is about identity? Well we have our identity on the line tomorrow and we’re going to write it loud and proud. So when we line up tomorrow go out there and leave it all on the pitch’

The players responded with a murmur of determination, each man absorbing Scott’s rallying cry as if it were a lifeline.

The big game came around quickly. The ref blew the whistle to start and the game was underway. The first goal came quickly. In the eighth minute Koftas, given the starting nod over Leândro ignited the match and the fire in the home fans, an early goal of the season contender, as he hit a shot on the half volley from the edge of the area that left the Warsawa keeper clutching at the air.

The home crowd erupted and Koftas, arms aloft soaked it all in.

After the restart Ślęza pressed high and won it back deep in the Warsawa half. Koftas held up the ball and with a slight nod to his strike partner Jakobczyk played it into the box towards the penalty spot. As Jakobczyk ran toward it the ensuing tussle between striker and defender, the covering Warsawa man Stasz committed a clumsy foul sending Jakobczyk to the deck.

The ref initially hesitated but looked to his left and saw the linesmens flag up and awarded the penalty to the home team

The tension, already high with a nervous excitement spiked, and the penalty, a moment of potential destiny, was given to Glanowski to convert. But his effort while hard and on target went the same way as Gorski in the Warsawa net.

The miss seared Scotts temper as his jaw clenched he muttered under his breath, frustration mingling with disbelief at the squandered opportunity.

At half time the score still read 1-0 in favour of Ślęza. In the locker room the calm efficiency of goalkeeper Gessl was the unsung hero, making a series of vital stops that kept the lead intact. Scott recognised that every save was a small defiance against the leaders.

The second half brought renewed energy. Leândro starting on the bench came on as a second half substitute for Koftas begane to carve his way into the game. In a swift sequence his clever movement off the ball to find space to receive the inbound pass from Mroz to then feed Jakobczyk who had a simple tap in that double the lead. The goal wasn’t just a number, it was a statement.

Suddenly the gap at the top of the league shrank to a single point, and the stadium buzzed with a tangible surge of hope.

As the final whilst blew jubilation swept the stands. The team all stood united in triumph and celebrated with a fervor that mingled relief and ambition. In the midst of the cheer Scotts mind was racing, not with self congratulation, but with a quiet and fierce belief that they could do. Promotion was no longer a distant dream, it was a real possibility. And perhaps, after this victory they could even dare to win the league.

As the team gathered around the boss at pitchside, all eyes alight with a newfound confidence. And Scott vowed that this was the beginning of a future written in bold strokes, and tempered in the heat of relentless ambition.

-- -- -- -- --​

 

[MT55]

Glad to see you posting on here mate! Will be following.

 

[bigmattb28]

Glad to see you posting on here mate! Will be following.

Nice one mate

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 31​

The winter break had arrived like a brief lull in a relentless storm. In the quiet halls of Ślęza Wrocław’s training ground Scott Lańkowski allowed himself a rare moment of quiet satisfaction. The team was riding high with 14 wins, 2 draws and 4 losses which meant at the break they are top of the league, with a 4 point lead over a determined Polonia Warszawa side. It’s a record that spoke of grit and ambition, a testament to the work they’d put in right from the off.

Scotts mind kept returning to the one decision he’d hesitated over, the signing of forward Leândro. The striker was a risk he’d doubted at first but had now emerged as the teams top scorer with 13 goals in those 20 league games. His brilliance and consistency had silenced Scotts internal critics. Alongside him, Jakobczyk with 12 and Koftas with 10, had formed a trio that balanced risk with reliability. The pitch had become a canvas for their raw talent, each match a painting of victory forged in sweat and determination.

In the quiet aftermath of the break, as the team busied itself with drills and tactical discussion, Scott was summoned to a meeting with chairman Kamil Aftyka. The air in the boardroom was charged with the same tension that simmered on match days.

Scott sat down and said with a smile ‘Kamil, the teams doing well. Top of the league and we are playing some good football. I have an idea why you called me to this meeting. I need stability, no surprises, no upheaval that could scupper our progression’.

Kamil’s eyes, usually so impenetrable, betrayed a hint of excitement as he slid a thin folder across the table ‘Scott, listen. I’ve been in talks with another group, a serious one this time. The takeover of the club is expected to happen soon. We’re at an advanced stage’

The words hung in the air, as heavy as lead. Scott’s pulse quickened. A takeover meant new management, new strategies, and potential disruption. His heart, already burdened with the weight of his own high expectations for the season, sank a little. ‘Another group? How many is it now?’ Kamil didn’t reply, Scott knew this was the fourth such group to begin talks about the takeover of the club, so he continued ‘what will that mean for us, for the team? We’re on the cusp of progression, I really need to know that this change won’t undo everything we’ve done so far this season’

Kamil leaned in with a steady gaze and said ‘your contract is secure Scott, I’ve made that clear and it’s part of any deal for me to sell the club. But change is inevitable, and I expect the new chairman will bring his own vision. I’m merely waiting for the final signatures’

Scott’s mind raced. The takeover was a gamble, a wild card in a season unfolding exactly how he wanted it to. His whole mindset was on gambling for promotion, meticulously laid out plans like a chess game could now be out of his control. There had been countless bright futures and seasons derailed over the years by off the pitch power plays.

‘I get it, but….’ Scott paused, showing his unease before continuing ‘we’re on the edge of promotion. With the team we’ve got we’re not just avoiding relegation or content in mid table, we’re challenging for the title. I need to know this takeover won’t shake the foundation’

Kamil offered a measured smile ‘change can be a catalyst, Scott. It might even propel the club further. But I understand your concern. I’ll do what I can to see that the transition is as smooth as possible’

The conversation ended with a promise that felt as fragile as glass. As Scott stepped out into the cool corridors of the club, his mind churned with both delight and dread. Leândro’s form is a beacon of hope and a confirmation that his risks could pay off. Yet the looming takeover cast a long, uncertain shadow over his plans. Was he building a legacy of champions, or was he simply setting himself up for another fight against forces he could never fully control?

In that uneasy quiet, Scott Lańkowski vowed to safeguard his team’s spirit. The upcoming second part of the season would be his proving ground where every goal, every tackle, and every triumph would be a defiant stand against the chaos of change. And no matter what the new owners might bring, he would ensure that Ślęza Wrocław remained a fortress of resilience and ambition.

-- -- -- -- --​

 

[bigmattb28]

Football news roundup - January 2019​

The winter window has come and gone, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams, financial excess, and the occasional glimmer of hope. In the cold, dark heart of European football, clubs schemed, gambled, and counted the cost of their desperation. Some strengthened, some splurged, and others simply collapsed under the weight of their own failures.

Leicester City fired the opening shot of the window, prying Sidnei from Málaga for €13 million. A move that whispers of pragmatism, a club trying to build something steady amid the chaos and shore up a backline that’s conceded on average 1.6 goals a game this season.

Real Madrid, eternal architects of footballing drama, swooped in for CSKA Moscow’s long serving Alan Dzagoev for €29 million. The Russian midfield general wasted no time, threading a pass to Gareth Bale in his debut, a round of 32 Copa del Rey game against Las Palmas, an early hint of the damage he might do in white.

Barcelona, never one to shy away from shaking things up, spent €29 million on Pedro Obiang, luring him away from Championship leaders West Ham, because, apparently, the Catalans now shop in the second tier of English football, in a deal that is as surprising as it is expensive for a vastly underperforming player.

Manchester City, ever the poker players of the transfer world, made Serge Aurier their latest acquisition for €45 million from Barcelona, proving once again that there’s not a full back alive they won’t overpay for, in a move that suggests Pep Guardiola sees something the rest of us don’t.

On the way out, Fernandinho was discarded for just €2 million, that's his monthly wage, the transfer fee was zero, sent off to Al-Sadd in Qatar. A cruel, quiet goodbye for a man who had bossed City's midfield. The same day as the Fernandinho transfer, John Stones was sold to Benfica for €28 million. Stones had at one point been seen as the future of England’s defense, but now finds himself at a crossroads, hoping to resurrect his career in a league where defenders are given more time on the ball but far less room for error.

But the transfer to watch? Arsenal’s €27 million coup of Christoph Kariner, a 19-year-old Austrian winger that terrorized defenses at Red Bull Salzburg, who has an outrageous stat line - 19 goals and 33 assists in 48 league games. He has already been capped 11 times, and his reputation is rising, but will he be a star in the making, or just another wonderkid swallowed by the Premier League machine? The general consensus is he could become the signing of the season and an all time great, assuming Arsenal don’t ruin him.

Meanwhile, across North London, Spurs responded in kind, throwing €44 million at Hertha Berlin for Niklas Stark, proving their annual January tradition of buying a defence minded player no one was really talking about is alive and well.

In Italy only one move truly mattered. Second placed Napoli’s Allan sold his soul to the Chinese Super League, swapping title dreams for big wages in a €59 million move to Shanghai SIPG.

In Germany Timo Werner’s Bayern nightmare reached its inevitable conclusion. Six months after his €38 million move, he was shipped back to Stuttgart on loan, a victim of Robert Lewandowski’s ruthless dominance (23 goals and counting).

In France PSG are doing what PSG do, tossing €22 million at Utrecht for Giovanni Troupée, another name added to their endless carousel of talent.

And now, to Merseyside, where the fog of misfortune lingers thick in the air.

Liverpool FC (12th in the Premier League) A club everyone once feared, are now a stumbling giant. The board sacked Marcelino, unimpressed with his 28 wins, 11 draws and 19 losses record. His crime? Mediocrity. The man they called in to clean up the mess? Phillip Cocu. Fresh from his time at PSV, he swapped Eredivisie title races for the turmoil of Anfield, a bold move, or perhaps a misguided one? No grand declarations and no signings in January, probably because anyone worth signing is avoiding Anfield like it's riddled with the plague and is on fire. With Cocu he’s a man that has built his coaching reputation on control and structure and now finds himself at a club unravelling at the seams. There’s been no hint of any new direction from Cocu or the board, just a quiet acceptance of the malaise that has taken hold at Anfield. The kind of appointment that whispers rather than roars.

Everton (Lost in the Championship) Across Stanley Park, things are worse. Much worse. Everton, still disoriented from relegation, threw €29 million at Leicester for Harvey Barnes and another €22 million at Derby for the signature of Will Hughes, desperately grasping at solutions and seeming allergic to scoring goals.

Their next game? Rotherham United away. A nothing fixture, one they should win without breaking a sweat. Instead, Everton fell 2-0, a crushing humiliation. Aitor Karanka paid the price, sacked before he could even finish his post match interview.

Now, the Toffees search for a savior. Duncan Ferguson looms in the shadows, a man who doesn’t do tactics, doesn’t do subtlety just pure, unfiltered aggression. Maybe that’s exactly what Everton need. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re already beyond saving. The feeling is either the Everton players are going to get a reality check under Big Dunc, or at least one of them is going to be headbutted by the end of February.

January’s window has closed, but the stories it wrote are only just beginning. Some teams have strengthened, others have gambled, and a select few are simply drowning.

-- -- -- -- --​

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 32​

The takeover was done. The club is now under new stewardship, and in the polished corridors of the boardroom, the truth was laid bare: Slawomir Sobczak was the new chairman. It wasn’t a downpour of melancholy or drudgery, today was bright, harsh even, and the glare of the overhead lights revealed every crevice of hope and uncertainty in equal measure.

In the locker room, Scott Lańkowski gathered his team around. His voice, rough as gravel and laced with the weight of unspoken promises, cut through the chatter.

'Lads’ he began, his eyes scanning the tired but determined faces ‘the takeover has been completed. We’ve got a new chairman, Slawomir Sobczak. Now, I can’t confirm a thing until I’ve spoken with him myself. But you all know this club’s future is on the line, and we’re not about to let anyone mess with what we’ve built’

The players exchanged wary glances. They’d heard rumors, felt the tremor of change, but now it was concrete, a shift in the boardroom that could either fortify their bond or shatter the fragile hope they’d so desperately nurtured.

Later, in the hushed sterility of the boardroom, Scott faced Sobczak. The new chairman, a man with a calm authority and a keen glint in his eye, extended a firm handshake that spoke of fresh beginnings and unwavering resolve.

‘Scott’ Sobczak said, his tone measured yet brimming with quiet enthusiasm, ‘I’ve been following the team’s progress. I must say, I’m impressed. You’ve taken Ślęza to heights I hadn’t dared to imagine. The way you’ve molded this squad, it's nothing short of remarkable’

Scotts jaw tightened a mixture of guarded pride and lingering apprehension ‘thank you, we’re doing what we can. But I need to know what your plans are, I don’t want to be running blindly into the future’

The new chairman smiled, a slow sincere curve of his lips that spoke of trust rather than of interference ‘let me be clear; I believe you’re the man to lead the club forward. I’m offering you a one year extension on your current contract. I want you to have the space to continue what you’ve started here and to assure you that my role is to support you, not meddle with the team. You and your backroom staff have my full faith’

Scott’s eyes searched Slawomir’s face, seeking any hint of duplicity, but found only honest conviction. The promise, as unexpected as it was welcome, stirred a cautious relief deep within him. Still, a shadow of doubt lingered, a reminder that change, even under the best circumstances, could unravel the tight tapestry he’d spent weaving. He accepted the new deal without hesitation.

Outside the boardroom, the club hummed with the buzz of possibility and uncertainty. The players, unaware of the full details of Scotts chat with the new chairman sensed a shift in the air. The takeover had been confirmed, new leadership now held the reins, promising support and independence in equal measure.

As Scott stepped back into the corridor, he allowed himself a moment’s solitude. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts; the elation of a fresh mandate to build something greater, and the nagging worry that such transitions were often the harbinger of unforeseen challenges. Would he be remembered as more than just a savior? Was this takeover his chance to lead the team that didn’t just stave off relegation but would truly compete for glory?

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. In that quiet moment, lit by the harsh glare of fluorescent bulbs rather than the forgiving light of rain, Scott vowed to embrace the challenge.

With Slawomir’s trust behind him and his own determination as his guide, he would forge ahead undaunted by the unknown, ready to carve a legacy that would outshine any doubts he had.

In the relentless pursuit of a brighter future, Scott Lańkowski stepped forward into a new chapter, his heart resolute, his mind sharpened, and his destiny finally his to command.

-- -- -- -- --​

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 33​

Inside Scott’s office at the Ślęza Wrocław stadium, the opening of the Polish transfer window had begun its slow waltz, a dance of offers and counteroffers under harsh fluorescent lights. Scott leaned against the cold table, his eyes fixed on the scrolling page of emails and contracts showing on the PC monitor. Every message felt like a crack in the foundation of the team he’d put together and he wasn’t ready to let any more first team players slip away.

Marcin Lachowski, the club’s ever pragmatic director of football, entered with a measured stride. He set down a folder, heavy with scouting reports and market figures ‘Scott’ he started ‘the window is open and I won’t lie, we’ve had a few enquiries. Latka, Wdowiak and Jakobczyk. Nothing concrete yet but they could fetch a decent price if the timings right’

‘I don’t want any of our players leaving or chasing better money. We’ve kept the core of this team together and built around these players. I just want to get through this window without losing a single first teamer’

Marcins gaze remained unyielding ‘it’s all about timing Scott we know this. The new chairman has said there’s money to spend, and if an offer comes in we need to secure the right price. We’re not selling for the sake of it, we’re selling smart if we do. And if we do need to replace anyone I’ve got a couple of promising youngsters on the radar, full of raw potential’

Scotts eyes flickered with uncertainty as he took in what Marcin was saying ‘potential doesn’t replace proven talent does it. I’m not comfortable with the idea of letting anyone force a move, and to be fair no one has said they want to leave. Even one player leaving could weaken the whole structure of the team’

‘I get it, we’re in this together. We both love the squad we’ve got and we want to protect it. But look at it like this, if the offer is right, it could give us the funds to bolster the team further, ready for next season when we’re in the second division. In the meantime I’ll keep you updated on the scouting reports. I’m sure we’ve found the perfect match to keep the balance’

There was a bit of silence between them as Scott considered the weight of Marcins words. His mind wandered back to every tackle, every shot and goal so far this season that had seen the team sitting proudly atop the table. They’d battled their way through raw grit and determination, something that in his eyes, could not be measured in money.

Scott broke the silence by saying ‘I know. We’re not going to be spending money just for the sake of it. I want to hold onto what we’ve got. If any offer does come in and any player gets restless we’ll handle it. But until then, we stick together’

‘I’ll keep an eye on the market for the youth prospects we’ve identified. I’ll keep you updated on any offers that come in’

As the teams future balanced on a razors edge of speculation and strategy Scott steeled himself for the coming weeks. The transfer window is always a test of resolve; could he keep the team that had performed so well up to now together or would it unravel the unity of the squad that was defying the odds? The dance had just begun and every step would be measured, every move calculated as he fought to keep the heart of Ślęza intact.

There was an uneasy energy in the corridors as the transfer window churned on and the players were finishing up training for the day. Scott Lańkowski was still in the office, sunlight slicing through the blinds on the window revealing the wear on his face, a face etched with the determination and the weight of unyielding ambition. Today the latest twist came from France; Dijon had made a bid for young full back António Rosário.

Marcin Lachowski was with him and said with a low measured voice ‘he’s not interested in staying. The offer is a measly seven thousand five hundred’

Scott just nodded, mind whirling with possibilities. Marcin continued with narrowed eyes, the glimmer of opportunity mingling with calculated resolve ‘that offer is nothing, it’s not even worth my time replying really. But I went back and countered, asking for forty thousand in full with one catch, that we demand we sign a replacement before we confirm the sale’

Scott’s own eyes narrowed at this ‘we only have Molski as a natural right back if we sanction this deal. That’s a risk I’m not comfortable taking’

Marcin leaned forward, a spark of confidence lighting his tone ‘not so fast boss. Remember those youth players I told you we’d scouted, well one is a full back as I was expecting some offers for Rosário, albeit not after only six months with us. The young lad is Hungarian who can play both sides. He’s not as polished as Rosário but he’s got a lot of potential and he’s free’

Scott exhaled, the sound heavy with reluctance and hope, he trusted Marcin’s judgment.

‘Okay’ Scott conceded ‘as always I’ll trust your call on this. We need stability and if this young kid can learn the ropes it’ll be worth it’

As if to underline the point, FC Lorient entered the fray with their own bid for Rosário which was countered with the same price and terms as Dijon had been given. But the young full back, it seemed, had already made his choice.

He signed with Dijon for the forty thousand Euros Marcin had demanded, a final blow that left Scott with mixed feelings of relief and regret. The deal to sign young full back Tamas Kiprich was also done at the same time. At least the only sale he’d have to worry about was now closed, leaving him to focus on the restart after the winter break.

Yet, as the day wore on and the pitch of possibility seemed momentarily bright, Marcin’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the office ‘Scott, there’s another matter… we’ve got major interest in Sebastian Gessl. They’re circling him like vultures and we’ve had an offer come in already’

Sebastian Gessl, the first choice goalkeeper who had played every minute this season was probably the last player Scott wanted to see leave. His gaze hardened, his mind a storm of apprehension and worry mixed together. He realised that as the door closed on Rosário’s time at the club, another was about to be flung wide open, threatening to dismantle the whole fabric of the team.

The transfer window was a game of high stakes and even higher risks, even in the lowly third division of Polish football. And now, as the restart after the winter break was looming on the horizon, the gamble of letting the first choice right back slip away hung in the balance.

Would that decision, made partly on Rosário’s demand to leave, be followed by an even greater one? The gamble of losing the rock in goal, Seb Gessl, was a risk Scott wasn’t sure he could shoulder. Every transfer in or out was a calculated risk, and if the goalkeeper followed Rosário out the door, it might just tear the foundations of the squad apart.

-- -- -- -- --​

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 34​

The atmosphere in the office was thick with anticipation. The transfer window had become a battlefield of offers and whispered negotiations. Bruk-Bet Nieciecza had come in hot for Sebastian Gessl, the first choice goalkeeper whose gloves had saved Ślęza more times than they cared to count. Even Cracovia Kraków had circled, but only Nieciecza had the stones to put an official bid on the table.

Scott Lańkowski and Marcin Lachowski exchanged wary glances. Gessl’s talent was undeniable, yet keeping him was proving a double edged sword. The keeper had been itching for a move since word got out he was being linked to higher division teams, and if he stayed, his discontent might spread like a cancer through the squad.

Scott broke the silence, his voice low and measured ‘we can’t let him stay and kick up a fuss. It’ll shake the team’s morale and we’re pushing for promotion, we don’t need those type of problems. But if we let him go…’ he waited a moment, as if considering the implications ‘well, we lose one of our best. I say we negotiate the offer to thirty thousand at least, in full, but we take him back on loan for the remainder of the season’

Marcin’s eyes flickered with a mix of relief and calculation ‘that way, we keep the squad intact until the end, and Gessl gets his move away, a fresh start waiting just beyond the season’s end’

Later that afternoon, over a phone call in the sparsely lit office, Marcin spoke directly with the Bruk-Bet Nieciecza manager. His tone was cool, almost dispassionate, as he laid out the proposal ‘listen, our keeper is not ready to start regularly at Nieciecza,” Marcon conceded ‘we know his worth to us, but frankly at you he’d be a backup for a while. A loan back to us until the end of this season makes sense, both for us and for you’

The manager agreed with Marcins proposal straight away and confirmed ‘then we’re agreed at thirty thousand in full, with a loan back clause until this season is over’

The call ended, and Marcin leaned back with a small, satisfied smile. He relayed the news to Scott, who was already pacing the room like a caged lion.

‘You get that?’ Marcin asked, his voice carrying a note of optimism.

Scott’s gaze hardened, a mix of reluctance and relief battling in his eyes ‘yeah, I got it. I still don’t want to see him go permanently, but I can’t let his discontent poison the squad. This way, we hold our line until we cross that promotion threshold, and then he can move on. It’s the lesser of two evils’

A heavy silence fell over the room as both men absorbed the implications. The transfer was another gamble in a season full of them, a necessary sacrifice in a game where every piece had to fall into place. As the restart loomed on the horizon, Scott couldn’t help but wonder if this intricate dance of deals and departures was the price of potential. And with the winter transfer window every decision carried with it a weight, and every gamble could be the difference between building a title winning team or watching the pieces scatter.

‘We’re still in the same position as we were at the start of the window, keeper wise I mean, we’re no worse off’ and before he could say anything else on the matter Marcin interrupted him

‘There’s one other thing I need to tell you’ he said as he got his phone ‘center half Vasilis Takas. Done and dusted, he’s raw, full of potential but not ready for the first team yet’

‘The kid you told me about last week?’ Scott asked, Marcin nodded, Scott continued ‘he’s barely out of school of course he’s not ready for the first team! You think he’s ready for the rigors of the second division? That’s where we’re aiming’

Not missing a beat Marcin said ‘not yet, no. but with the right guidance and commitment it won’t be long before he’s a fixture in the first team. He’s got the right natural instincts, angry, brave, determined, tall and ready to throw his body around that could develop into something. I’m betting on the future, I believe in this kid’

The room itself seemed to hold it’s breath as Scott considered the words. His mind, as always haunted with the delicate balance of risk and reward weighed up the prospect of integrating fresh blood into the squad which is already teetering on the edge of greatness and uncertainty. A new signing was another gamble, a potential turning point or a missed opportunity.

Scott nodded, easing the tension slightly and said ‘yep, okay. If you can think he can be molded into the first team, I’m happy with him coming in. the transition won’t be seamless, I can’t afford any fractures in the team, not this season when we’re chasing promotion, and definitely not next season when hopefully we’re aiming to survive.

Marcin offered a thin smile of reassurance ‘we’ll all be keeping a close eye on him, as with the rest of the youngsters. We'll ease him in during training, let him learn from our best, learn our style. Give him the guidance he needs, and he’ll soon find his place’

In that moment, amid the clatter of shifting plans and the relentless pursuit of improvement, Scott felt a spark of cautious optimism. The addition of Takas and departure of Gessl wasn't just another transaction, it was an investment in the future and the present, two calculated risks that, if nurtured correctly, might fortify the backbone of his team.

-- -- -- -- --​

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 35​

The winter break had ended, and instead of a bright new beginning, the first session back had delivered a harsh reckoning. Under a clear sky that offered no solace, three key players; defender Alain Ngamayama and midfielders Kamil Mankowski and Michal Glanowski all went down with injuries that struck like a double edged knife. Inside the training ground, the atmosphere was tense, the silence heavy with unspoken fear.

Scotts face hardened as he surveyed the damage. Every injury was a blow, not just to the squad’s form but to his carefully laid plans for promotion ‘it’s like fate is punishing us for daring to dream’ he muttered to no one in particular, his voice rough and bitter as he recalled the moments of that fateful session.

The season’s return proved even more unforgiving. In the first three games after the break, Ślęza managed only a draw and suffered two losses. Each match was a struggle, a series of half hearted efforts and missed chances that left the team reeling.

The once promising unity pre winter break on the pitch had fragmented, and each poor performance gnawed at Scott's pride. Then came a brief reprieve: back to back wins rekindled a spark of hope. But that hope was dashed once more in the fifth game, a bitter reminder that consistency was as elusive as a ghost in the night.

Frustration boiled within Scott. He paced the sidelines during training, his eyes burning with the unspoken question; will the team be able to stick together with the injuries and inconsistent form? The injuries weren’t just physical, they seemed a symbol of the relentless challenges that threatened their ambition of keeping Ślęza in the promotion hunt.

Amid this turbulent period, a small lifeline emerged. News came in that Mateusz Broz, a player Scott had known from his Bytom days, was available on loan from Olimpia Grudziadz. Broz was a familiar face, a warrior with a keen instinct for the game but not featuring in the Olimpia team much, and his arrival promised to offer cover during this precarious stretch.

In a quiet meeting in the cramped office overlooking the training ground, Scott addressed his backroom team ‘we’ve lost some of our starters’ he said, his voice low and laden with both frustration and resolve ‘we can’t let these setbacks define or derail us. I want Broz on board. He’s someone I know. He’s reliable, and he’ll fill the gap until Leo is back to fitness, and the boy Koftas has been flagging recently too’

Marcin, as ever played the safe card ‘he’s a temporary fix, he’s not in their team for a reason and they’re in the bottom four, but he’ll give us some breathing room I get that. If he can hold the fort while our starters recoup, he could keep the promotion hunt on track’

Scott nodded, an acknowledgment of cautious optimism and slight lingering worry. The scars of the post break struggles are still fresh and the pressure from him on the team to secure promotion started weighing on him like an iron shackle. Each point dropped and poor showing was a reminder that this dream could slip away if he wasn’t meticulous.

He muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else in the room ‘next season it’ll be different. It’ll just be about holding on rather than conquering. No scrutiny, just the basics, improve the team, survive the season and build on to challenge’

The thought, though modest, was a slight mark on bruised resolve. In the next division up the fierce demand to win every game would dissipate into the simple brutal necessity of just staying afloat, a challenge he knew all too well.

As the deal with Olimpia Grudziadz was finalized, Scott’s mind raced with possibilities and pitfalls. Broz’s arrival was a step forward, but it also underscored the uncertainty of a season marred by injuries and recent poor form. The team needed every ounce of grit to reclaim its identity and push toward that elusive promotion.

In that moment Scott Lańkowski steeled himself for the battles ahead. With Broz joining the ranks, he vowed that Ślęza Wrocław would not be defeated by circumstance. They would rise from these setbacks, piece by painstaking piece, and prove that even in the face of relentless adversity, champions are forged in the crucible of struggle.

– – – – --​

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 36​

The day was bright with the harsh light cutting through the windows like a scalpel, yet the mood in the tunnel was anything but sunny. After thirty league games, promotion was within reach, a single point would seal their destiny. Ślęza Wrocław were on the move, and tonight they traveled to Znicz Pruszków with everything riding on their performance.

Scott Lańkowski gathered his players in the cramped locker room. His eyes, steeled by countless battles, swept over the men with a calm intensity that masked his inner fire ‘Listen up’ he began, his voice low and determined ‘today there’s no pressure. Play your natural game and let your instincts lead. The result will come if you trust yourselves and each other’

He paused, letting the words sink into the silence ‘just remember, we’re not chasing perfection; we’re chasing promotion. Now, go out there and do what you do best’

As they went out to play the game there was, for a fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope, an unspoken promise between the players of victory. But as the game kicked off it was clear that complacency, like an uninvited guest, had taken up residence in the team. Twelve minutes in and Pruszków had taken the lead, and it was completely deserved.

Scotts heart pounded with a mix of fury and disbelief as he watched his team struggle to break free from their lethargy. The sun was still bright and bore down on the pitch mocking the leaders slow start. At the half as they still trailed his anger shone through ‘where’s the fire? The urgency? The ******* desire to win this match?!?’

The away locker room was a cauldron of frustration as Scott continued ‘that was a disgrace. I know I said no pressure but you’ve let pride and complacency steal the game from us. You need to get back out there and take it to them. We only need a draw and you will earn it if you fight for every ball. They won’t expect you to come out swinging but that’s exactly what I want you to do!’

The second half began with renewed urgency. As the minutes ticked by, the tide slowly turned. Koftas, fresh off the bench and hungry for redemption for the team, struck with a swift precision that sliced through the opposition’s defense. His equaliser came like a shot of adrenaline, and suddenly the game was no longer a lost cause. The match ended 1-1, which was enough to secure promotion, but at a price; pride and momentum that had to be rebuilt.

Back in the locker room the jubilation of securing promotion replaced the earlier despondency. The players erupted into cheers, clapping each other on the back and their voices a mix of relief and renewed ambition. Amid the celebrations Scott called for quiet ‘today we’ve done what we set out to do’ he started, tone mixing with satisfaction and resolve ‘but this is only part of the job. We know we’re going up, but the next challenge lies ahead. We don’t just want to get promoted, we want to win the whole thing. Grabbing the winners medal will be the icing on the cake’

As the team began to disperse Leândro approached Scott quietly. The strikers eyes shone with a fierce gratitude ‘Scott, I just wanted to say I’m glad you gave me the chance to join you here’ he said softly ‘it’s because of you that we’re promoted, I believe in this team, and in you and what we can become’

Scott managed a wry smile, a fleeting glimpse of warmth in his hardened gaze. The draw had lifted them to the top of the third division on 65 points, tied with second place BKS Stal Bielsko-Biała, their next test looming at home

As the echo of celebration mingled with the reality of the challenges to come, Scott Lańkowski vowed that this was not the end of the challenges but a new beginning. The pressure of promotion might ease in the i Liga, the second division, but the fight for glory was just starting.

With the burden of expectation and the flicker of hope in every determined eye, he knew that tonight, they had proved they could rise even when the sun was as unyielding as the challenges on the pitch.

– – – – --​

 

[bigmattb28]

Chapter 37​

The afternoon sun shone down on Ślęza’s home ground like a spotlight on destiny. BKS Stal Bielsko-Biała, sitting proud in second place, had come to test them and to continue their own push for the league title, but tonight, destiny belonged to Scott Lańkowski’s men.

In a match that pulsed with tension and raw energy, Ślęza emerged victorious, 2-0. The first goal had come from a perfectly delivered corner, Bartosz Jaroszek rising above the rest to nod the ball into the net like fate sealing a pact. Not long after, Jakobczyk, cool and lethal, struck to settle the game, ensuring that every minute of sweat and sacrifice of the season had not been in vain.

After the final whistle, in the cool quiet of the locker room, Scott gathered his players. His voice, rough and resolute as ever, cut through the lingering cheers ‘gents, we sent a message, loud and clear. Our closest challengers for the league title were just given the message that we’re going to be the ones lifting the league trophy and we showed them exactly what we’re all about’ he paused, letting the words sink in. He continued ‘but remember we’re not done yet. There’s two games left, and the next one against Poznań is the next hurdle. We go there, we win that and the league title is ours. Forget the final game, that’s not in our mind at all. We go to Poznań, we play with the fire and energy we played with today and we’ll be fine. Play with belief and trust, and victory will come’

In the silence that followed, each player carried the weight of the coming challenge in the penultimate game of the season. Jakobczyk’s mind raced; he replayed the moment in the game of his own brilliance and wondered if he could muster the same magic under even higher stakes. Jaroszek clenched his jaw, determined to be the rock at the back once more. Even those usually quiet voices in the team, who thrived on order and precision, now pulsed with the jittery excitement of impending glory.

=======​

At the Poznań ground in the pre match huddle before the clash against Warta Poznań, the atmosphere was electric; a heady mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. Scott stood at the center, eyes sweeping over the assembled squad ‘we step on the pitch knowing that our own actions, every step, every pass and every tackle carries us one step closer to the title. I’m confident in you all, and I’ve picked the starters with care, and in the belief that those who start the game are giving us the best possible platform to win it. Trust in your ability, trust in each other and remember one thing; we’re not here to simply play, we’re here to win’

There was a moment of charged silence as each player absorbed his words. Even Scott felt the adrenaline of a season of gambles that could finally pay off. As he looked into their eyes, he saw the same burning determination that had carried them through the season so far. In his own heart, Scott was a man reborn; his confidence in his coaching ability and his trust in the squad had never been higher.

The challenge at Warta Poznań loomed large. A win here meant winning the league, a prize that would transform their struggles into triumph and etch their names into history. It wasn't mentioned that second place Stal Bielsko-Biała needed to better Ślęza’s result to keep their own title aspirations alive, but it didn’t matter. Scott only ever concerned himself with his own teams results, never relying on other teams.

As the team broke from the huddle and headed out onto the pitch for the decisive match, the stakes could not have been clearer. With hearts pounding and minds focused, they were ready to risk it all.

On this day every step they took was toward a future where the title would finally be theirs; a future forged in the relentless heat of battle and the quiet confidence of a man determined to carve out his own legacy

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Warta Poznań v.s Ślęza Wrocław. Biggest game of the season.​

The stadium shone under the mid afternoon glare as Ślęza Wrocław stepped onto the pitch at Warta Poznań. With promotion as champions or another game to play to secure the title at stake, every man on the team carried a mix of excitement and raw nerves. The team talk had been delivered with Scotts usual balance of fierce calm and steely resolve. With the starters confirmed and Scott in the dugout he watched as the players took their places with determined intensity, as if each heartbeat was a countdown to destiny.

The game kicked off with a subdued intensity, the early minutes a measured dance of passes and probing runs. Then, in the 12th minute, the unthinkable happened; Warta Poznań surged forward and took the lead with a clinical strike from Piechniak that rattled the backline of Ślęza, his eighth goal of the season.

Scott’s eyes blazed with frustration as he watched his team, momentarily caught off guard, concede the goal. His mind churned, this was not the way. There’s always pressure in every football match, but this lapse of concentration from the team felt like a betrayal of the trust he had placed in his men. But even as Warta celebrated, hope was not lost. A corner from mister reliable Mroz was whipped into the near post, and from it’s swirling trajectory, Bohdanowicz, starting at right full back rose above everyone else in the box. His header, sharp, precise and unstoppable rifled into the net and from that moment the energy on the pitch shifted back to Ślęza

The players, emboldened by the goal, seemed to awaken from a daze. Their eyes shone with the fierce will to overturn the deficit and win the game, every pass, run and tackle was now laced with urgency not seen in the game so far. The games momentum was in favor of Ślęza, but the footballing gods felt that fate had to get involved. In first half injury time Warta Poznań struck again. A swift clinical counter attack that was slotted underneath the onrushing Gessl by Piechniak, who now found himself on a hat trick for his ninth of the season.

In the away dressing room at half time the score was 2-1 to Poznań, but the Ślęza players weren’t deterred. Their expressions hardened into lines of determination mingled with slight concern. Scott sensed it too and said ‘we’re down, yes, but we’re not out yet. This game is far from over. You’ve got caught on the counter, it happens. Seb you could’ve been stronger there but it’s done. We come back out in the second half stronger and on the front foot. This game is still there to be taken’

The second half began with Ślęza on the front foot, taking the game to Poznań. In the 58th minute the breakthrough came. Koftas, the young forward who had a knack for scoring goals at crucial times, burst into the box with unbridled energy. With a deft touch of the ball to steady himself, and a surge of determination he found the net with a low shot, levelling the score and sending the away bench into motion

As Scott gave some final instructions to Koftas before he lined up for the restart, Peter BAstista, Scotts trusted assistant approached and said with a low tone ‘listen up, Stal Bielsko-Biała just conceded at home to Polonia Warszawa’

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That news rippled through the away bench like a claxon, bolstering the teams resolve. Scott, Peter and even Blazej Radler, the former captain who was now a youth coach had joined the team, were all barking orders at the players from the technical area. With every passing moment in the game the tension grew more intense. The players, hearts pounding and minds razor focussed hadn’t been told of Warsawa taking the lead, kept pushing for another goal, aware that the outcome of that game could define their season. A Warsawa win would mean no matter the score for Ślęza would mean they win the title due to a better head to head record.

As the game entered it’s final heart pounding stretch every pass, cross and dribble from Ślęza’s players carried the weight of destiny. Warta Poznań were doing their best to get their own goal to take the lead, pulling saves from Gessl and a goal line clearance from Glanowski. The pitch was a theatre of rapid exchanges between both teams, an end to end game if there ever was one. Intricate attacks, sublime tackles and picture perfect passes, each one a silent plea for another goal. The energy was electric, everything in the game a silent refusal to settle for a point.

On the sidelines, tension crackled in the air. Scott Lańkowski stood at the edge of the technical area, eyes never straying from the field. His jaw was set, his gaze a mix of steely determination and quiet desperation. He knew that even if they held on, the final outcome might still hinge on external results, specifically, whether Polonia Warszawa would beat Stal Bielsko-Biała. In a small huddle near the dugout, Peter Bastista repeatedly checked his phone, his eyes darting to the score display on the wall. Every update was a lifeline, a reminder that relying on others was a gamble Scott couldn’t afford.

‘We could do with another goal’ Scott said to Peter. Another goal not just to win the game with but to seal their fate with the league title. The players kept the intensity going with rapid forward moves that just couldn’t get past the keeper, and snuffed out attacks from Poznań and kept pushing for the goal. Scott couldn’t ask for more.

In the Poznań dugout the managers cold gaze tracked every pass from his team and every attack cut out by Scotts team. Peters glances at his phone at the Warsaw score spoke volumes about the external pressure weighing on them all. He kept willing Warsawa on repeatedly, as if his own words would somehow travel to that game. The waiting, the uncertainty was like walking a tightrope over a valley of what ifs.

Then, as if sensing the mounting tension and desperation, the fourth official stepped up with his board, and as the stadium announcers voice boomed out over the speakers ‘the fourth official has confirmed there will be six minutes of extra time’. The words reverberated like another challenge being thrown down by fate itself, a final electrifying extension to the match.

In those last frantic moments, every heartbeat seemed to echo on the pitch. Passes became lifelines, and tackles were defiant roars against the inevitable. The players pressed forward with everything they had left, determined to carve one more chapter in their destiny. Scott’s eyes shone with a mix of hope and relentless resolve as he surveyed his warriors, who were undaunted, united, and ready to seize control of their own fate.

As the final seconds ticked away, destiny dangled on a knife’s edge, yet one truth remained unyielding - Ślęza Wrocław would not allow chance to script their fate.

In that charged moment, Scott Lańkowski vowed that no outside result, even one cloaked in promise, would define the future he was set on forging. In those final six minutes, every pass, every tackle, and every burst of speed would be hammered into existence, carving out the legacy he so desperately sought.

 

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In the final six minutes of added time, the atmosphere on the pitch was charged with electric tension. Every heartbeat counted, every second stretched into eternity. Suddenly, from the right wing, a pinpoint cross was delivered into the box. Kacper Piechniak, on a hat trick and scorer of both Poznań goals with eyes like a hawk and reflexes honed by countless battles, leapt forward in front of his marker Jaroszek, and connected with a diving header aimed with lethal precision. But in a flash of brilliance, Gessl, the ever present keeper who was playing his penultimate game for Ślęza exploded into action with a diving reflex save with his outstretched left hand that defied gravity itself. The crowd gasped as the ball flew past the far post for a corner.

Before anyone in Ślęza colours could breathe the corner was whipped in. This time, Piechniak was unmarked, a phantom in the twilight of the match, and he forced another moment of panic. His header barreled towards the goal, and again, Gessl was there, stretching every sinew to parry the shot with a spectacular one handed save.

Scott Lańkowski’s frustration burned hotter than the midday glare as he watched those two rapid chances slip past his opponents grasp. Each near miss was a dagger, two opportunities that could have cost Ślęza the game, two instances that threatened to unravel all the hard work.

On the sidelines, the tension was palpable. Every player on both benches held their breath, every eye fixed on the field as the final minutes ticked away. The players exchanged anxious glances, their minds locked in a desperate vigil, while Peter Bastista and the rest of the coaching staff tracked the unfolding drama with clenched fists and taut nerves.

Scott’s gaze never left the referee, who moved slowly along the touchline, as if the final whistle were a distant, unreachable promise. In those final, suspenseful moments, every pass, every clearance, every shout from the dugout reverberated like a final plea against fate.

And as the clock inched towards its inevitable climax, Scott’s internal roar was a mix of fury and relief, a quiet vow that even these close calls would not define his legacy. The tension was a silent pact among the players; to hold on until that whistle finally blew and hope the score at Stal Bielsko-Biała stayed the same.

In the crucible of those last precious seconds, as the teams waited with bated breath, Ślęza Wrocław stood firm. The final whistle was their only salvation, and every player, every staff member, every heartbeat was united in the hope that destiny would smile upon them.

The final whistle sliced through the charged air, a stark, definitive note that brought the game to an end at 2-2. For a heartbeat, the silence on the pitch was deafening. The players slumped with heads down in disbelief and disappointment. A win would have clinched the league; a draw left them teetering on the brink of what could have been, meaning the final game of the season would be the deciding game. Faces that had been set with determination now wore the heavy lines of unmet expectations.

In a rare burst of uncharacteristic intensity, Scott Lańkowski, usually the epitome of calm resolve, stormed over to the young forward Koftas. With a shout that rang out like a battle cry amid the lingering tension, he bellowed ‘well done champ!’. It was a raw and almost desperate commendation, a flicker of pride amid the collective letdown.

Before the weight of the loss could fully settle, Scott stepped forward and broke the silence, his voice carrying like a shot of pure adrenaline ‘Stal Bielsko lost 1-0 to Warsawa!’ His words, simple and triumphant, sliced through the tension, transforming the bitter nearmiss into the sweetest vindication of all the players.

The news swept over the pitch like a tidal wave. In an instant, the bitter taste of a drawn match transformed into overwhelming jubilation. The realisation that Ślęza Wrocław had won the league ignited a surge of elation that rippled through every corner of the club

In the locker room that followed, the air was a curious blend of exhausted celebration and cautious relief. Players, still catching their breath from the game, exchanged incredulous smiles and pats on the back. It was a victory that had been won in the shadows of an external result, possibly a title snatched in the final moments of fate’s unpredictable game.

Scott stood before his team, his face a study in conflicted emotions. His usual reserve was tinged with fierce pride and a silent, personal vindication ‘you fought for everything today, we didn’t get the win we deserved, but our destiny and the title is sealed’ he declared, voice resonating in the quiet hum of the room ‘we are champions, not just because of our score or the Warsaw score, but because we refused to give in, and we gave everything over the season. Now don’t think that our work is done, far from it. The hard work begins again next season. We push on, we build and we prove that we’re there to stay next season’

From the final whistle the whole spirit of the club was palpable, a gritty hard fought title win was tempered by the knowledge that every match was a battle. They had overcome disappointments and doubt to claim the league title to go with promotion already claimed, and the promise of the future was glimmering like a beacon.

For Scott Lańkowski, the league win was more than just a trophy; it was the culmination of a season of relentless pursuit, and a testament to the team he saved from relegation one short year ago.

As the final echoes of celebration faded, the resolve in Scott's eyes burned brighter than ever. The game had been a crucible, and now, with the league title in their grasp, Ślęza Wrocław was poised to step into a new era, undaunted, united, and ready to write their own legend.

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