Sunday, August 29th. 4:30 PM. The Hawthorns.
Premier League. Matchday 3.
West Bromwich Albion vs. Wolverhampton Wanderers.
The Black Country Derby.
In the Championship, it was intense. In the Premier League, it felt like a war.
Before the match even began, the atmosphere was charged. The away section was filled with old gold and black, shouting insults.
Ethan stood in the tunnel. He had played the first two matches: the 1-1 draw at Arsenal and a tough 0-0 draw at home against Crystal Palace.
Two points, zero goals scored.
The media was already spinning the story: West Brom is hard to beat but struggles to score.
"We need a goal today," Julian Vance said in the dressing room, his face tense. "A 0-0 draw in a derby feels like a loss."
Ethan looked across the tunnel at the Wolves captain, a Portuguese international named Ruben Neves. Neves was chewing gum and seemed completely unfazed by the noise outside.
Kickoff.
The game started at a breakneck speed. Tackles flew in. The referee's whistle was a constant sound.
Ethan played higher up the pitch, trying to connect with Jaden Kalu and the new striker, a raw 20-year-old loanee from Chelsea named Armando.
15th Minute.
Wolves controlled possession. They were sharper and quicker.
Neves picked up the ball 30 yards out. Ethan closed him down, but Neves didn't need a second touch. He made a smooth, 50-yard diagonal pass that found their winger perfectly.
The cross came in.
GOAL.
West Brom 0 - 1 Wolves.
The away section erupted. Smoke bombs filled the air.
Ethan retrieved the ball from the net. "Wake up!" he yelled at the defense. "Stop watching him pass!"
35th Minute.
West Brom was struggling. The pace of the Premier League was unrelenting. Every mistake was punished.
Ethan took the ball under pressure. He tried the "Riverton Spin" to escape two Wolves midfielders.
It failed. The second midfielder read it, stuck in a foot, and won the ball.
Wolves countered immediately.
A through ball, a shot.
GOAL.
West Brom 0 - 2 Wolves.
The Hawthorns fell silent, except for the mocking cheers from the away end.
Ethan bent over, hands on his knees. He had lost the ball. It was his fault.
Halftime.
West Brom 0 - 2 Wolves.
Vance didn't shout. His calm demeanor was more unsettling.
He looked directly at Ethan.
"You're trying to be the hero, Ethan," Vance said quietly. "You can't always spin out of a Premier League press. You need to move the ball faster. One touch, two touches maximum."
Vance turned to the tactical board.
"We'll change shape. 4-3-3. Ethan, drop deeper. Control the tempo. Stop trying to dribble through them."
The Second Half.
Ethan came out determined.
He followed Vance's advice. He stopped holding onto the ball. Receive, pass, move.
West Brom began to find rhythm. The tempo picked up.
65th Minute.
Ethan retrieved the ball deep in his own half. He saw Jaden Kalu making a run.
Instead of pushing forward himself, Ethan launched a first-time, 40-yard pass over the Wolves defense.
It was perfectly placed.
Kalu ran onto it, beat the keeper to the bounce, and squared it to Armando.
Tap in.
GOAL.
West Brom 1 - 2 Wolves.
The crowd came alive. The comeback was on.
88th Minute.
The game was stretched. Both teams were tired.
West Brom won a corner.
"Everyone up!" Liam Thorne shouted.
The ball came in and was a scramble.
It fell to Ethan on the edge of the box.
Without thinking, he hit a half-volley through the crowded penalty area.
It deflected off a Wolves defender, wrong-footed the keeper, and found the net.
GOAL.
West Brom 2 - 2 Wolves.
The Hawthorns shook. Ethan ran to the corner flag, sliding on his knees and shouting into the chaos of the crowd.
Full Time.
West Bromwich Albion 2 - 2 Wolverhampton Wanderers.
Three games, three draws.
It wasn't a win, but coming back from 2-0 down in a derby felt like one.
Ethan walked off the pitch. He was completely spent. The Premier League demanded full concentration for 95 minutes.
He checked his phone in the dressing room.
Mason: Saw the goal. Scrappy. I love it.
Ethan: They all count. How did you do?
Callum: Lost 1-0 to Tranmere. Terrible pitch. The Gaffer made us run laps after.
Mason: Welcome to League Two.
Monday, August 30th. 10:00 AM. The Physio Room.
Ethan lay on the table, icing his left knee. This was standard practice, not due to pain, but for maintenance.
Ben Garner walked in with an envelope.
"Recovery going well?" Garner asked.
"Yeah. Just tight hamstrings," Ethan replied.
Garner handed him the envelope. It had the Three Lions crest on it. The FA logo.
Ethan sat up, staring at it.
"Is this...?"
"The September International Break," Garner smiled. "The Under-19s are playing Germany and France. But you're not in that squad."
Ethan felt his heart sink slightly. "Oh."
"You," Garner continued, his smile growing, "have been called up to the England Under-21s."
Ethan stopped breathing for a moment. The Under-21s, one step below the senior team.
"Me?"
"Yes, you," Garner laughed. "You've started three Premier League games against Arsenal, Palace, and Wolves. You're holding your own against Kofi Mensah and Ruben Neves. The FA noticed."
Ethan opened the envelope with shaking hands.
OFFICIAL CALL-UP: ENGLAND U21 SQUAD.
Matches: vs. Spain U21, vs. Italy U21.
He looked at Garner.
"I'm going to St. George's Park."
"Pack your bags," Garner nodded. "You report on Monday."
Friday, September 3rd. 2:00 PM. St. George's Park National Football Centre.
The facility was pristine. It looked more like a luxury resort than a training ground.
Ethan entered the reception area, wheeling his club suitcase. He wore an England tracksuit they had sent him. It felt heavy with responsibility.
He looked around at the other players arriving.
He recognized them from TV.
There was Tom Johnson from Liverpool. There was Mikey Williams from Manchester City.
Players who had been in elite academies all their lives. Players who had never played on a muddy pitch in Grimsby or a frozen field in Gateshead.
Ethan took a deep breath.
He was Ethan Matthews. He had a titanium plate in his knee. He had a dent in his shin pad.
He belonged here.
He walked toward the registration desk.
His phone buzzed. A text from Callum.
Callum: Don't embarrass us in front of the posh boys. Try not to two-foot anyone in training.
Ethan smiled and typed back.
Ethan: No promises.