The sting of Crestford's sixth goal still lingered in the air, a bitter taste that coated the Silvergate Youth Sailors' spirits like ash. Eric Maddox stood on the touchline, his jaw set, his mind racing with a myriad of thoughts.
The 6-0 deficit was a gaping wound, but he wasn't about to let it bleed out completely—not with the tools the Pro Manager System had given him and the fire he'd stoked in his team at halftime. The missed penalty and the swift counterattack had tested their resolve, but now it was time to act decisively.
Without hesitation, Maddox signaled for the substitutions, his voice cutting through the chaos with authority. "Get Keene off! Dunstall and Donnelly too!" he barked, his eyes scanning the bench.
Thankfully, the footballing rules of this strange new world mirrored those he knew—five substitutions allowed from a pool of nine—and he intended to use every advantage available.
Nathan Keene, whose ego had cost them the penalty, was the first to go, replaced by 17-year-old Bradley Gorran, a lanky forward with a hunger to prove himself. Jamie Dunstall, the right-back whose stamina had faded like a dying ember, made way for Reece Holloway, a sturdy defender with fresh legs.
And Zak Donnelly, the fiery central midfielder teetering on the edge of a second yellow card, was swapped out for Noah Perring, the hidden gem Maddox had been itching to unleash.
The substitutions were swift, the new players settling into the Basic 4-4-2 formation with surprising fluidity. Bradley Gorran and Riley Croft spearheaded the attack, their youthful energy a stark contrast to Keene's flamboyant but ineffective presence.
Toby Winchell dropped back into a central midfield role, his vision and technique now anchoring the midfield. Noah Perring took up the No. 10 role behind the strikers, his slight frame belying the creativity that had caught Maddox's eye, while Eli Fortis and Kai Moreno flanked them on the right and left wing midfield positions respectively.
The backline solidified with Reece Holloway at right-back, Ollie Waters at left-back, and the towering duo of Dean Halberg and Lewis Chaney at center-back—a wall that Maddox hoped could hold for the remainder of the second half.
The fresh legs made an immediate impact, their vigor injecting new life into the Sailors' play. The Crestford Colts, riding high on their 6-0 lead, had begun to relax, their movements growing sluggish as they assumed the game was theirs to coast through.
Maddox seized the opportunity, his eyes narrowing as he watched his team press higher up the pitch. The system interface flickered in his vision—[Team Morale: 28% (Rising Slowly)]—a sign that the substitutions were beginning to pay off, the morale needle inching upward with every determined tackle and crisp pass.
Five minutes later, in the 60th minute, Silvergate carved out another golden opportunity, a chance born from the chaos of a hard-won turnover deep in their own half.
Toby Winchell, the heartbeat of the midfield, intercepted a sloppy pass from a Crestford midfielder and wasted no time. With a quick glance ahead, he sent a hasty but precise pass to Noah Perring, igniting a rapid counterattack.
The slight 16-year-old, his protective glasses glinting under the floodlights, drove forward with a burst of energy, his small frame weaving through the opposition like a shadow.
He danced past two Crestford defensive midfielders with ease, their larger bodies stumbling in his wake, before unleashing a brilliant through ball that sliced between the center-backs with surgical precision.
[> "What a brilliant play from Noah Perring!" <] the first commentator, Dave, exclaimed, his voice rising with genuine awe. [> "How has he been on the bench all this while? This kid is a revelation!" <]
[> "That's a question Eric Maddox has to answer to the Silvergate fans," <] Paul, the second commentator, added, his tone a mix of admiration and curiosity. [> "Beautiful skill work from the young lad and a piercing through ball past the defense—Perring's making a case for himself here!" <]
The ball found Riley Croft, who had timed his run perfectly, staying just onside as the Crestford backline scrambled to recover. The left-winger controlled it with a deft first touch, drawing him into the 18-yard box with the grace of a seasoned professional.
The Crestford goalkeeper, the same lanky figure who had thwarted Keene's penalty, rushed off his line in a desperate bid to narrow the angle, his arms flailing as he tried to close the space. But Riley remained coolheaded, his eyes locked on the target.
With a subtle shift of his body, he placed the ball with the inside of his right foot, curling it past the diving keeper and into the far corner of the net.
The ball kissed the post before nestling into the back of the goal, a moment of pure beauty that silenced the home crowd for a split second before the sparse Silvergate fans erupted in celebration.
[> "GOOOOOAAALLLL!" <] Dave's voice thundered through the speakers, the elongated cry echoing across the stadium. [> "Riley Croft with the finish, and Silvergate have pulled one back! A consolation goal at 6-1, but what a moment for the Sailors—and what an offensive play by Noah Perring!" <]
The Silvergate faithful, a small but vocal contingent in the stands, cheered with relief, their voices rising above the jeers of the Crestford supporters. The goal was a lifeline, a flicker of hope in an otherwise bleak match.
On the pitch, Riley sprinted toward the corner flag, sliding on his knees as Bradley Gorran and Noah Perring joined him, their arms raised in relief.
Toby Winchell pumped his fist, a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor, but he quickly got ahold of himself and ushered the players back for a quick start. Time was running out.
Maddox allowed himself a small, tight-lipped smile and satisfied nod, his tension easing slightly as he watched the celebration and Winchell's reaction.
The system interface updated in his vision—[Team Morale: 35% (Rising)]—confirming what he could already feel: the goal had rekindled a spark in his squad. Noah Perring's brilliance had been the catalyst, his through ball a masterstroke that showcased the potential Maddox had glimpsed in the player's card.
The commentators' praise rang in his ears, a rare moment of validation, though he knew the questions about Perring's benching would haunt him in the post-match analysis and interviews. For now, though, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the game at hand.
Beside him, Nigel Crowther shifted uncomfortably, his gaunt face twisting into a scowl as he picked at his nose absentmindedly. "It's just one goal, what's all the cheering for? Such mentality...sigh, Crowther would have done better." he muttered in his irritating monotone.
Maddox's brows furrowed and for the first time since waking up in this world he felt that perhaps a private man-to-man exchange after the match wouldn't be a bad idea—but for now, he kept his focus on the pitch.
The Crestford Colts regrouped, their complacency shaken by the goal. Their players exchanged heated words, their coach gesturing wildly from the sidelines as he tried to rally them.
The scoreboard still loomed large—
### Crestford Colts 6 – 1 Silvergate Youth Sailors
## 61:27
—but the dynamic had shifted. Silvergate's fresh legs and newfound belief had turned the game into a contest, however lopsided the scoreline might be.
Maddox glanced at the system interface again, noting the potential for further opportunities—[Tactical Core Opportunity: Counterattack Potential Rising]—and adjusted his stance, ready to bark instructions.
The sparse Silvergate fans continued their chants, their voices a defiant melody against the tide of home support. On the pitch, Noah Perring wiped sweat from his brow, his slight frame trembling with adrenaline as he prepared for the restart.
Seeing him in his protective glasses brought memories of Edgar Davis, a famous Dutch player who wore glasses to play football in his past life because of glaucoma, an eye condition.
"He probably has it too." Maddox muttered.
Riley Croft jogged back into position, his confidence bolstered by the goal, while Bradley Gorran flexed his fingers, eager for another chance to contribute.
The Sailors weren't out of the fight—not yet—and Maddox knew that this single goal could be the foundation for a few more, if handled properly.
Fweeee!
The referee blew his whistle to resume play.