Travel Day: Basel Bound
Wednesday Morning – Valley Parade Loading Bay
The coach wasn't loud. It never was, not under Jake.
Boot bags thumped gently onto the pavement. Zip-ups, wool coats, trim tracksuits. The air was sharp but dry, and the players moved with quiet ease—no headphones, no playlist, just purpose.
Jake stood by the door as they boarded. He didn't say anything. Just a hand on the shoulder here, a nod there. Not affirmation. Expectation.
The staff wheeled in the cases. Behind them, the academy trio hovered at the edge of the pack—Soro in the middle, Northbridge with his hood up, Ford carrying a folded Basel prep folder like it was glass.
They were part of the squad now. But not yet inside it.
That would come later.
Mid-Flight – 36,000 feet over the Alps
The windows were shuttered halfway. Players tucked in quietly, some sleeping, some watching. No card games. Just focus.
Midway through the flight, the analysts handed out tablets.
