"Oh my God?" Harold Evergreen of the BCC said, standing beside the screen as the camera panned to the sideline.
The BCC didn't usually report on Vanarama National League games. Nobody did. That was how monumental this day was. The return of a failed coach.
"Is that Paul Sczerny?" asked the second anchor, Gracie Chede, brows raised. "What a day, what a story."
Harold let out a laugh, smacking his hand against his knee. "Please... someone pull it up. Yeah, his stats. Pull them up."
The stats were pulled up on the large screen, at the very top.
[MANAGER PROFILE – PAUL SCZERNY]
Current Club: Halles Sieger (Vanarama National League)
Age: 36
Nationality: English—Polish.
CAREER HIGHLIGHTS:
• [Leeds United (2015–2018):]
• Promoted from League Two to Championship.
• Back to back promotions
• Win %: 54%
• Games: 138 | W: 75 | D: 37 | L: 28
• [Norwich City (2018–2023):]
• Promoted from League Two to Premier League.
• Three consecutive promotions.
• Won Premier League title (2022)
• Relegated from Premier League (2023)
• Games: 249 | W: 153 | D: 56 | L: 40
• Luton Town (2023):
• Relegated from Championship
• Games: 15 | W: 0 | D: 1 | L: 14
• Crewe Alexandra (2024):
• Relegated from League One
• Games: 33 | W: 0 | D: 3 | L: 30
• Gillingham (2025):
• Relegated from League Two
• Games: 32 | W: 0 | D: 2 | L: 30
• Halles Sieger(2028—
"He's really back, Gracie." Harold said in a thick Welsh accent, now turning directly to the camera. "And I said it the last time he managed, and I'll say it again."
"DOES HE WANT TO MAKE IT 81!?"
Harriet turned off the broadcast, putting the tablet to her side. The players had just wrapped up the national anthem, now walking onto the pitch, stretching and warming up as they lined into their formations.
The headline started, reading:
[HAL vs ESL]—Live at Lamex stadium, 77°F
Then the player list and respective formations.
__________________
[Halles Sieger.]
Coach: Paul Sczerny.
Formation: 4-2-3-1
__________________
GK(1) Lance Aubergine/(Captain)
LB(3): Arun Rafael Assunção
CB(5): Everest Wallflower.
CB(4): Clovis Siewe
RB(2): Daichi Yamada.
CM(6): Liam Briar.
CM(8): Xavier Leon Frederick
LW(11): Mateo Lorenzo Andres Camila
AM(10): Elke Aldeheid
RW(7): Shin Ha-jun
ST(9): Benjamin Parker
_________________
Subs: GK(12): Vincent McGee Jr, CB(13): Tobias Grist Sr. LB(15): Jabari Akinfola. LW(24): Nagisa Aoto. RW(14): Dorian Caldera. LW(16): Byron Whitaker.
_________________
[Eastleigh FC]
Coach: Martin Jacobs.
Formation: 4-4-2 Diamond
_________________
GK (1): Lucas Barlow (Captain)
RWB (2): Jamie Carter
CB (54): Bruce Hamilton
CB (5): Aaron Mitchell
LWB (3): Charlie Nichols
DCM (6): Maximo Delgado (Defensive Midfielder)
CM (18): Jacob Richards (Box-to-Box)
CM(29): Ryan Donovan (Box-to-Box)
CAM (10): Isidre Thurland-Woodbine (Attacking Midfielder)
ST (11): Tom Fletcher
ST (9): Anthony O'Donell
___________________
Subs: GK (12): Ethan Mills. CB (23): Ollie Turner. CM (44): Callum Wright. ST (35): Marcus Reed. LB (16): Jake Morrow. CM (17): Kieran Burke.
___________________
The players shook hands as they passed, with the Halles Sieger squad jogging toward the left side of the pitch, their goal until halftime.
On the sidelines, Paul and Mark exchanged brief pleasantries, a customary handshake between two coaches. But Paul could barely recall what was said. His mind was already elsewhere, racing through scenarios, wondering how his team would hold up under real pressure.
The crowd roared.
The referee flipped the coin. A point to the left.
Kick-off.
Liam tapped the ball to Xavier, who quickly drove it wide to Daichi. Just like that, the match was underway.
The media's spotlight burned down, more focused on the scandal laced coach on the sideline than the young squad on the field. Still, the players weren't spared from attention. They, too, were being watched—judged with every touch.
Comments went off in the tabloids.
"Isn't that Horace's brother, don't tell me this is a team of trials rejects?" #Failedclubalready #BanSczerny, #HallesSieger
"Another incoming disasterclass from a manager obviously passed his prime." #BanSczerny #HallesSieger
"Are those kids? Alright Varsity team," #HallesSieger #kindergartenfootball
Daichi passed the ball back toward the keeper. Nerves ran high across the pitch, and the relentless chants and flashing cameras didn't help.
Lance shifted the play to his left flank.
Arun took control, the technical Spaniard confident with his feet, but Ryan Donovan was glued to him, pressing hard. The whole opposing team surged forward with reckless abandon.
They knew their experience was the edge and they had to make it count.
Without hesitation, Arun launched the ball toward midfield—no aim, no target, just a powerful clearance soaring over Benjamin's head.
Benjamin braced himself, arms out to shield his man as he leapt, but Bruce Hamilton, a seasoned League Two champion, was in another league.
Using sheer strength, Bruce brushed Benjamin aside and sprinted past, driving the ball further upfield.
The clock ticked past three minutes, the ball now deep in Halles Sieger's half. Jacob Richards delivered a crisp pass back to the defensive midfielder, who quickly switched the play once again.
The ball found Isidre Thurland-Woodbine standing near the edge of the box.
Isidre eyed his marker—Daichi—locking eyes with him, watching his foot, the ball.
"I saw your clips... you're left-footed, right?" Isidre said, flicking the ball forward.
Daichi lunged to intercept.
With a quick spin, the attacking midfielder slipped past him, but Daichi wasn't finished. Regaining his footing, he grabbed at the runner's arm.
A cross.
Isidre whipped it deep into the box, where the two towering strikers, Tom and Anthony, waited, both as tall, if not taller, than Everest.
The defenders staked their claims, arms out to block their men. As the ball arced overhead, Everest jumped—too early, once again.
He lacked the key instincts a defender needed, especially at this level.
And it was costly.
Anthony's head met the ball squarely, directing it goalward. Lance barely moved and the ball was on course to enter the net.
The goal would—
Clovis dashed forward, his leg stabbing out and slamming the ball aside, sending it out for a corner. He collapsed to the ground, Everest rushing over, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.
"I'm sorry," Everest muttered.
"Get your head in the game, Wallflower!" Clovis barked. "There won't be many second chances now."
"I understand," Everest replied as the corner kick was set.
"DEEP!" Left wing back Charlie Nichols called, arm raised, before smashing the ball into the box.
Clovis defended again, but the ball spilled to Isidre, standing just outside the penalty area. A long-shot specialist with clips of rocket strikes nearly rivaling the legendary Valverde. Knowing this, Benjamin instantly closed in.
Body blocking the path, Benjamin pressed, "Nowhere to go but back."
Isidre smirked, his green-dyed hair bouncing in the wind. "You're Horace's brother, right? You might look like him—"
Isidre moved—and so did Benjamin—arms out, legs pounding the turf as both spun and dashed.
Then came a feint,
One Benjamin fell for.
Isidre lined up the shot, smiling coldly at Parker, eyes fixed on his body. "But you're nowhere near his level."
He struck the ball against Benjamin's thigh; it ricocheted, soaring high into the box, arching and dipping beyond the reach of even Gianluigi.
A goal.
The scoreboard flipped.
HAL(0)—ELS(1)
Scorer: Own goal, Benjamin Parker, 5'
"Word of advice?" Isidre said, waving to the fans with a smile as his team went back. "Quit."
Paul's hands clenched tightly as he sat on the bench, the crowd's roar crashing against his mind like a tidal wave, drowning out his thoughts.
Above him, in a solitary seat high in the stands, sat Ross Vassilev, and beside him, a stranger Paul didn't recognize.
Most likely his replacement.
Paul sighed, eyes fixed on his team as play resumed. Eastleigh pressed hard again, bullying them relentlessly. Another goal seemed imminent, if not for Clovis's brilliant block.
In any other match, Paul would have made changes, tweaked the formation, swapped players. But here, now, he didn't have that luxury. The bench held no better options.
The players on the pitch were his best shot.
He stared on, lost in his own thoughts.
Then, the sharp whistle of the referee cut through the noise.
HAL(0)—ELS(2)
Scorer: Isidre Thurland-Woodbine, 30'
Then again.
HAL(0)—ELS(3)
Scorer: Bruce Hamilton, 32'
Assist: Charlie Nichols.
And again.
HAL(0)—ELS(4)
Scorer: Anthony O'donell, 40'
Assist: Isidre Thurland-Woodbine.
Then—
The referee blew for half time.