Preparing for Winter (1)
The first half of the league season had officially drawn to a close.
Round 23 against mid-table Blackpool proved far smoother sailing than the grueling battle against Coventry City just before it. The biggest reason was that Blackpool's defensive anchor, slated for a Premier League transfer in the upcoming winter window, had been left off the matchday squad entirely following a dispute with their front office. With their defensive coordinator missing, the backline fell into utter disarray. The brace I drove past their scrambling defense sealed an easy victory.
With my thirty-second and thirty-third league goals in the bag, people were already treating me as the undisputed top scorer. Naturally, a few critics nitpicked that it was a hollow win against an opponent missing their star defender—whose name was too long and complicated to bother remembering anyway—but that hardly tarnished the result. It was a victory we had run ourselves ragged to earn, plain and simple.
Nineteen wins, two draws, and two defeats in twenty-three matches. Riding that blistering pace, Luton Town firmly held the top spot in the Championship with fifty-nine points.
To make things even better, second-placed Middlesbrough managed only a draw in Round 23, widening the gap between us to eight points. Halfway through the season, an eight-point cushion wasn't insurmountable, but it was certainly enough to breathe a small sigh of relief.
Now, all that remained was to prepare properly for the winter break.
In the past, the Championship's winter break had been practically nonexistent, much like the Premier League's grueling holiday schedule. By the time I began playing professionally, however, the calendar had seen considerable reform, granting roughly two weeks of rest that doubled as the opening of the winter transfer window. Of course, that mostly meant players with families got to take a week off to recharge, while the bachelors among us were hauled in by the gaffer to clock in at the training ground every morning.
"Dominic, your legs are dropping. One more minute!"
"Are you insane?! What kind of monster runs a patient into the ground like this?!"
"This kind. And it's recovery conditioning, so hardly running you into the ground."
Flat on his back on the grass with both legs raised at a trembling ninety-degree angle, Dominic let out an agonizing scream. Fortunately, comprehensive scans had revealed no structural damage requiring surgery. The moment the swelling in his ankle subsided, the coaching staff had him straight into rehabilitation before he could even think about slacking off.
"Just another reason never to get injured," someone muttered.
"Tell me about it."
"I've been through it once. I'd rather die than do it again."
"Seconded."
Dominic's exaggerated wailing during training was practically background noise at this point, but he sounded exceptionally pitiful today. As we knocked the ball around, we offered a silent prayer for his soul.
"Anyway... do you reckon we'll actually sign anyone this winter?"
"Who knows?"
"Please, just one midfielder. I'm begging..."
Captain Teddy was the biggest casualty of Luton Town's paper-thin squad. After being ground to dust holding down the midfield throughout the entire first half of the campaign, he looked noticeably leaner than he had at the start of the season.
"I'm running on fumes myself," one of the fullbacks chimed in.
"If we head into the second half like this, we're going to collapse before March."
"I think that goes for all of us."
Mick and Wright, whose only cover consisted of two raw academy prospects pulled up from the U-19s who barely qualified as backup options, piled on their own grievances.
"Han, you haven't heard anything, have you?" Teddy asked, rolling a pass toward me.
I popped the ball up with a neat header to buy myself an extra beat, awkwardly trapped it with my foot, and swept a pass in Emir's general direction before answering.
"Shouldn't the captain know better than anyone? You're the captain, after all."
"I don't stick my nose into boardroom business. You know that's not my style."
"Then why ask me about club business you don't even know?"
"Well, because..."
Teddy's voice trailed off, but it wasn't hard to guess what that sly, knowing grin meant.
"Come on, are you seriously still milking that time I told her the second shower stall on the left was broken?"
"Did you really meet her at a cafe just to tell her about a broken shower stall?"
"For the hundredth time, I wasn't the one who asked to meet!"
"Right, right, whatever you say. I heard all about it."
It felt like just yesterday I was sweating bullets trying to clean up the mess after Lee Yeon set up that private meeting on a whim. The real headache was that ever since, my own teammates had been tormenting me more than any opposing defender ever could.
"So you really haven't heard a whisper?"
"Who in their right mind leaks transfer targets to an active player?"
"They usually give me a rough idea. Not that I'm allowed to tell you lot, of course."
Allen chuckled softly, drawing collective groans of disbelief from the circle.
"Allen, you're on the coaching staff."
"Hey, I can still put in a shift on the pitch!"
"You're gasping for air after twenty minutes!"
"...God, getting old is pure misery."
Ever since the Leicester match, Allen had transitioned from playing coach to an unofficial locker-room counselor, basically retired in all but name. We took turns ribbing him. Word was he planned to hold his official testimonial match only after we lifted the league trophy. If we somehow bottled promotion or the title, there was a fair chance the dressing room would riot.
Allen served up a crisp cutback pass, perfectly weighted for a first-time strike on goal.
"Well, all I can tell you boys is to keep your heads down and train properly."
"We're already working our socks off."
Any more than this, and it wouldn't be preparation for the second half—it would be a suicide march. We'd end up gassed within five minutes of Round 24 kicking off.
"I was hoping you'd promise to work even harder."
"Deepest condolences."
"Right then. To mend my broken heart, a hundred more shooting drills each before anyone showers."
"......"
Unfortunately, unlike Lee Yeon's immaculate touch, my ground technique remained an absolute disaster. Aside from the rare strike in twenty that cleanly caught my laces, nearly every ball sailed harmlessly away from the woodwork. Watching the ball spray into the stands, the rest of the squad collapsed into howling laughter.
Why aren't we doing crossing drills today?
Denied even a chance to redeem myself with a header, I could only swallow my bitter frustration.
While the players enjoyed their brief respite, the club's front office entered its most frantic stretch of the year. Inquiries made before the window opened had to be followed up with formal bids, and whenever unexpected squad holes opened up, the workload doubled overnight.
It went without saying that Adelia Myers, the woman overseeing the entire operation, had barely had a moment to breathe.
"What does the winter transfer budget look like?"
"Fortunately, we were extremely disciplined over the last two seasons, so we have a respectable war chest."
Their starting striker, Lee Han, had arrived on a free transfer following a trial, costing the club nothing in fees. Dominic had been pried away from Brazil's top flight, the Campeonato Brasileiro Série A, after ruthless negotiations shaved his price tag down by half. Compared to rival clubs pouring tens of millions into wholesale attacking overhauls, Luton had saved an immense sum—funds now preserved entirely for the winter market.
"Still, it's tighter than I'd like," Gordon murmured.
The issue was that even with those savings, Luton's resources remained modest at best. Gordon had already caught wind that Middlesbrough's winter budget was more than double Luton's, leaving him with an undeniable sense of regret.
"We might not get everyone on your list, Boss, but we can bring in at least two."
"...Two?"
"Adlan Karabayev for midfield, and Walter Lucarelli at center-back. Those two."
Adelia gauged Gordon's reaction before continuing.
"The buyout clause for Alto Randelos at left-back is fifty percent higher than we projected, which pushes him well out of our price range. And on the right, there's practically no one viable on the market."
"Hmm."
Gordon fell into deep thought.
Those two were indeed his highest-priority targets heading into the winter break. In any normal season, securing two quality players capable of stepping into the starting lineup would be considered a thoroughly successful winter window. The trouble was that Luton's roster depth was fragile beyond belief.
Even if both signings went through without a hitch, the flanks remained a ticking time bomb. The frontline possessed enough positional versatility that wingers and strikers could shuffle around to plug gaps, but fullbacks Mick Colback and Wright Downs had been holding the defensive flanks together with spit and grit. Behind them, there was nobody of senior quality.
"Any chance you could develop another academy kid or two?"
"I've told you time and again, Adelia. Han and Dominic arrived essentially finished products. Even with Han's rough edges back then, the boy was nothing short of a genius."
"I was only teasing. I know."
Adelia hadn't really expected a different answer. If churning out first-team talent were that simple, elite Premier League academies wouldn't be splashing millions on external talent; they would simply promote from within. She respected Gordon's tactical genius and trusted his judgment implicitly. If he said it couldn't be done, it couldn't be done.
"In that case, I'll proceed with formal negotiations for Adlan and Walter."
"Please do."
Adelia moved the transfer dossiers into her approval folder. Watching Gordon sip his tea with furrowed brows, she felt an odd pang of nostalgia. It reminded her of the days when Gordon was just the retired neighbor next door, lapsing into stony silence whenever his beloved team suffered a defeat.
"Grandpa, can we definitely secure promotion this season?"
"...Never use the word 'definitely' in football, Adelia. You know that as well as I do."
The professional air between chief executive and head coach faded, replaced by the familiar warmth of an old man chatting with the girl next door.
"You know what I mean. Assuming no major injuries to our starters and smooth sailing the rest of the way, of course."
"......Fifty percent for promotion. Thirty percent for the title."
Gordon looked reluctant, but as a lifelong Luton supporter rather than a manager offering a soundbite, he laid out his honest assessment. It was an appraisal he would never utter in front of his squad, voiced only because they were alone behind closed doors.
"That's far lower than I expected."
"That is the ceiling if we only sign two players this winter."
"And if we...?"
"Four. Bring me all four targets I requested across the board, and I will deliver promotion no matter what it takes."
Though I won't make any promises about the title, Gordon added quietly. But Adelia had already made up her mind after his first condition.
"You have to keep that promise!"
"...Provided our key players stay fit, you rascal."
"I have complete faith in our squad."
"And you have particular faith in Han, don't you?"
"......"
One of the perks of getting old was being able to read young people like an open book. Gordon chuckled into his cup as a bright blush crept across Adelia's cheeks. Seeing the little girl he had watched grow up now capably steering a football club was remarkable enough—watching her tumble headfirst into love was just as delightful. Coming out of retirement to manage this club had truly been one of the best decisions of his life.
"I'd also suggest sitting down with the core players before the winter break wraps up. A personal chat might help you shape your long-term plans."
"......I'll handle that on my own, thank you very much."
Faced with Gordon's blatant excuse to get her into the same room as Han, Adelia fumbled for words. Flustered, she rattled off whatever came to mind just to bring the conversation to a swift close.
"Anyway! I'll get those transfers over the line no matter what, so please get plenty of rest and focus on preparing for the second half, Boss."
"Understood. I'd better work hard if I don't want the chairwoman nagging me."
He drained the last of his tea, watching with an amused smile as Adelia buried herself in paperwork with exaggerated intensity.
Through the long winter nights, the lights inside Luton Town's executive offices never went dark.