England's Greatest

[Check out the Patreon, I think there's like 51 advance chapters there with daily chapters, and drop some power stones, comment and review if you guys want to, trying to hit 600 power stones this week.] 

....

Tristan's dribbling past two defenders and scoring that goal was nothing short of spectacular—completely beyond everyone's expectations.

Neither his teammates, opponents, fans, reporters, nor even the football pundits anticipated that the young midfielder would suddenly display such dazzling dribbling skills on this grand stage.

As the camera zoomed in on Tristan, who wore a grin despite his disheveled hair after a playful tussle from Gerrard, the Colombian players stared at each other in disbelief. Confusion spread through their ranks.

"Look at the Colombians! They're absolutely stunned. They had no idea what just hit them!"

When the Colombian players glanced toward the touchline, their coach, José Pekerman, wore the same dumbfounded expression. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide in disbelief. Even he didn't see this coming.

"Pekerman looks like he's seen a ghost! He must've spent hours watching footage of Tristan, and none of it would have prepared him for this moment. Absolutely brilliant from the young man!"

Pekerman finally closed his mouth, replaying the dribble in his mind. How did Tristan just bypass two defenders like that? He had meticulously planned how to contain this emerging English star, watching countless hours of game footage. Tristan rarely, if ever, attempted such daring moves down the middle.

During a World Cup quarterfinal, with the weight of expectations on his shoulders, Tristan had done something completely out of character. It was a high-risk play—the kind that, if it had gone wrong, could have turned him into a laughingstock. Yet here he was, with all eyes on him, having just etched his name into World Cup history.

Pekerman thought back to the dribble. There were no flashy tricks, no unnecessary flair. It was a sudden change of pace, quick bursts of acceleration, and an innate understanding of timing and rhythm. Simple, yet devastatingly effective.

Pekerman tried to rationalize it. Maybe it was a fluke? A lucky break? Surely Tristan had just guessed the right moment to drive forward. Yes, that had to be it—a lucky guess.

Meanwhile, back in Leicester, head coach Nigel Pearson sat on his sofa, beer in hand, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No way that was luck."

Pearson's voice was firm. Sitting next to him, his assistant coach Walsh nodded in agreement. Both men had watched Tristan grow into the player he was today. Over the past six months, they had witnessed him diligently train with Mahrez, asking him about ball control and dribbling techniques during practice. His explosive power and technique had improved visibly.

_"You don't do something like that by accident," Walsh remarked. "This has been months in the making. He's been preparing for this moment."

Pearson couldn't argue with that. He knew Tristan better than anyone. The kid wasn't the type to try anything unless he was confident he could pull it off. This wasn't improvisation—this was a calculated gamble that paid off brilliantly.

"Tristan's dribble forward was no spur-of-the-moment decision. From the moment he picked up the ball, he knew exactly what he wanted to do."

 Pearson suddenly groaned, slumping into the couch.

"Damn it! This kid's playing too well!"

Walsh turned to him, puzzled.

"What? Why are you mad? He's just scored an unbelievable goal!"

Pearson shot him a look.

"That's exactly why I'm mad! The whole world's watching this match! We're going to get offers left, right, and center after this!"

Walsh chuckled, finally catching on.

"Ahh, I see. You're worried some big club's going to snap him up."

_"Damn right I am!" Pearson grumbled. "He's lighting up the World Cup! There's no way we can keep him under the radar now."

"What's his release clause? 30 million?"

Pearson nodded before turning to his son, James, who was glued to the TV on another sofa.

"James! Get on Transfermarkt right now! What's Tristan's current value?"

James groaned, reluctant to tear himself away from the game.

"But the match is still on, Dad!"

"I don't care! Check it now!"

James sighed, scrambling for his laptop, all while sneaking glances at the TV, not wanting to miss any of the action. After a few tense moments of typing, he finally found the figure.

"Still 10 million euros!"

Pearson shook his head, muttering under his breath.

"That's going to skyrocket after this World Cup..."

The commentators' voices boomed in the background, capturing the full magnitude of the moment.

"What a night for this young man! Tristan Hale, at just 19, has announced himself to the world in stunning fashion. A goal for the ages!"

As Pearson watched Tristan appear on the TV screen, a solemn expression crossed his face. His heart was conflicted.

On one hand, he hoped Tristan would perform well, carrying England deep into the tournament. On the other hand, there was a nagging fear. What if Tristan performed too well? What if he attracted the attention of top clubs and got poached even more then before? 

The only thing Pearson knew for sure was that after the World Cup, Tristan's value would skyrocket. If Leicester City lost him, at least they would get a significant fee in return.

Meanwhile, far away in Brazil, Tristan had no idea that his incredible performance was causing his club coach to worry. If he did, he'd probably reassure Pearson with a calm smile and say, "Don't worry, I'm not leaving Leicester City yet!"

For Tristan, this World Cup was simply a stage for him to showcase his skills—not a shortcut to a top club. Even though he now had the ability to make his mark at an elite club, it wasn't time for that yet.

On the field, England had taken the lead within the first 15 minutes through a stunning solo effort by Tristan Hale. 

"He made that look easy, but the way he glided past two defenders and kept his composure—that was pure class," added the other commentator. "What a special talent England have here."

Colombia had been stellar in the group stages, winning all three games, scoring nine goals, and conceding just two. By contrast, England's group stage had been less convincing: one win, two draws, five goals scored, and three conceded.

But those experts didn't take into account the strength of the opponents each team faced. Group D, often referred to as the "Group of Death," featured not only England but also Italy and Uruguay— Costa Rica, the surprise package of the tournament, further complicated things. England's qualification, under those circumstances, proved their resilience.

After falling behind early, Colombia immediately shifted their formation and attacked. Their defense, however, lacked star quality. Zapata, rotating for AC Milan, was the standout, while his partner, Colombia's captain Mario Yepes, was 38 years old.

Once a defensive stalwart for clubs like PSG and AC Milan, Yepes's experience and defensive awareness remained sharp, but his legs had long lost their speed. Together, they complemented each other: one engaged the opposition directly, while the other provided cover.

Still, it was uncertain how long the duo could withstand the continuous pressure from Rooney, Sturridge, and Sterling.

Pékerman knew this well. His only option to relieve the pressure on his backline was to push the battle into England's half.

Colombia's intent was clear as they ramped up the pressure. England's defense soon felt the heat. In the 25th minute, Cuadrado showcased some flair on the right, dancing past Baines before delivering a dangerous cut-back to the edge of the box. James Rodríguez, evading Gerrard's marking, unleashed a powerful shot.

"That's some lovely work from Cuadrado down the right. And here's Rodríguez—!" the commentator called out excitedly.

"A shot! But Joe Hart saves it! Safe hands from the England number one, but Colombia are knocking on the door now," came the quick response.

Fortunately for England, the shot, though strong, was placed directly in Joe Hart's reach. Hart, with his reflexes sharp, punched the ball clear, diffusing Colombia's first real threat of the match. But this was just the beginning.

Barely five minutes later, Rodríguez, now orchestrating from the right, floated a precise cross into the box. Jackson Martínez rose above Glen Johnson and directed a header towards goal. Joe Hart once again responded brilliantly, tipping the ball over the crossbar.

"Another close call for England! Colombia are relentless, but Joe Hart is keeping them at bay!" the commentator remarked.

After making a series of impressive saves, Hart banged his gloves together and shouted at his backline, "Guys! Focus up! Don't let them shoot so easily!"

As Colombia poured forward, gaps began to appear in England's midfield. Jordan Henderson was their only true defensive midfielder, while Gerrard's defensive contributions, though commendable, were not as sharp as they once were. The captain, known for his aggressive style, often rushed forward to intercept or tackle early, leaving his position vulnerable.

In his younger years, Gerrard could recover quickly. But age had caught up with him, and the pace of the World Cup had worn him down. James Rodríguez, not particularly fast himself, managed to glide past him on several occasions.

With Gerrard's frequent forays forward leaving spaces behind, Henderson was often left to cover vast stretches of the midfield on his own. Thankfully, Tristan, with his boundless energy, regularly dropped deep to help plug the gaps. His positioning helped stabilize a midfield that was teetering on the edge of collapse.

"You've got to love the work rate from Tristan Hale," the commentator observed. "Not just scoring goals but tracking back to help out in midfield—this kid is the real deal."

For 20 minutes, England weathered Colombia's relentless assault. It wasn't until the 35th minute, after a series of intricate passes on the wing, that England finally regained control of the ball. But no sooner had they regained possession than the Colombian players swarmed them, pressing high up the pitch.

For Colombia, time was of the essence. They were still down a goal, and heading into the locker room at half-time without an equalizer would be mentally draining. They needed a goal before the break to lift the pressure.

As England moved the ball around the back, Colombia ramped up the intensity of their pressing. The situation was becoming precarious. The passing ability of England's back four, with the exception of Baines, was average at best. Fortunately, whenever they hesitated, Tristan's voice cut through the tension like a beacon of light.

"Here! Pass it to me!" he shouted.

Without fail, Tristan would find space to receive the ball. It had become a mantra in England's camp: when in doubt, pass to Tristan, and everything will be alright.

"He's always available, always showing for the ball. You can see why everyone rates this 19 year old so highly," one of the commentators remarked.

"It's that intelligence, isn't it? The positioning, the awareness—he's got the vision of a seasoned pro," added the other commentator.

The Colombian defenders took started to mark Tristan more aggressively, not allowing him time to breathe. Every time he received the ball, one, sometimes two, Colombian midfielders were already closing him down.

But Tristan was quick to adapt. With his exceptional vision , he always knew where his teammates were, delivering pinpoint passes before his opponents could make a move. He barely held onto the ball for more than a second, always one step ahead.

Yet, despite his quick releases, the Colombian players continued to foul him after the ball had already left his feet. After a particularly rough challenge, Tristan, along with Gerrard and others, protested to the referee. Finally, the official booked Colombian midfielder Abel Aguilar, flashing a yellow card.

"That's the least Aguilar deserves. He's been all over Tristan like a rash today," said the commentator.

"And to be fair, it's been their only way of dealing with him. He's too quick and too clever for them," agreed the other.

With the referee's intervention, the Colombian midfielders became more cautious in their challenges. They couldn't afford to be reckless now, especially not with Tristan running the show.

Despite the fierce pressure from Colombia's front line, England managed to hold onto their slender lead. Whenever Colombia pressed high, Tristan's positioning and calming influence helped relieve the pressure on England's backline.

"England have been under the cosh here, but as long as Tristan Hale is pulling the strings, they've got a real chance," the commentator remarked.

...

End of chapter

Okay, chapter 1 has been rewritten, I think it's a lot better now compared to the first one, I probably do this for most of the chapters until we get to the Premier League. This will take some time but yeah do check it out, all that comments and likes are gone now, not exactly happy about that, lmao.