Marcus sat at the back of the team bus, still buzzing from the match. The chatter of his teammates filled the air, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the game over and over in his head. The atmosphere had been electric, and Fulham's 3-1 victory over Chelsea felt like a turning point—not just for the team, but for him personally.
The bus began to pull away from Stamford Bridge, and the Fulham players continued to celebrate, but Coach Anderson stood at the front, looking out of the window, his mind already on the next challenge. Marcus noticed the coach's serious expression. Despite the victory, Anderson wasn't the type to rest on his laurels.
"Good win today," Coach Anderson suddenly said, turning to face the players. The bus quieted down as he spoke. "But this is just one step. Chelsea was a big test, but we've got to keep going. This league doesn't give you time to celebrate."
The reminder was sobering, but it was typical of Anderson. Marcus respected that. The coach had given him a chance, but he had to earn his place. Anderson always emphasized how fleeting moments of success were if you didn't stay sharp.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from his dad.
"Proud of you, son. Let's talk when you get home."
Marcus smiled, typing out a quick response.
"Thanks, Dad. See you soon."
The bus pulled into Motspur Park, and the players slowly filed off, still on a high from the victory. Marcus grabbed his bag and walked toward the training ground's entrance, where they'd park for the night. He knew Coach Anderson would review the match tape, maybe even pull him aside for feedback, but right now, he wanted to head home and decompress.
As he reached for his car keys, Harvey caught up with him.
"That was wild, wasn't it?" Harvey grinned, his Man of the Match award still in his hands.
"Yeah, crazy," Marcus replied. "Still feels unreal."
"You played great, man," Harvey said, slapping him on the back. "We've got to keep it up, though. This win's huge for the club."
Marcus nodded. "Yeah, it's just the beginning."
They said their goodbyes, and Marcus hopped into his black BMW, the engine roaring to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. The drive home was quiet, giving him time to think. It was only a few months ago that he'd been struggling to keep up with the first team during training sessions. Now, he was standing out in a Premier League match against one of the top teams in England.
The pressure, though—that wasn't going anywhere. In fact, it was only going to increase. Every victory came with raised expectations, and every mistake would be scrutinized even more closely. He couldn't let this win get to his head. There were more matches to come, more chances to prove himself. And with Fulham still teetering around the relegation zone, there was no room for complacency.
As Marcus pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine, he sat in the car for a moment, staring at the darkened sky. He thought about the Chelsea game, the roar of the crowd, the feeling of the ball at his feet. He thought about how hard he had worked to get here, but also how far he still had to go.
He stepped out of the car and walked up to his apartment, his mind still racing. After a quick shower, he sat on his couch, scrolling through his phone, reading the headlines:
"Fulham Stun Chelsea in London Derby!"
"Fulham's Younsters Turn Heads in Premier League Debut."
He leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He thought about the match against Chelsea, the next game, and everything in between. His parents were proud, the fans were excited, and for the first time in a while, Fulham felt like a team that could stay in the Premier League. But Marcus knew there was no time to relax. If he wanted to cement his place in the squad, if he wanted to be more than just a flash in the pan, he had to keep pushing.
The next game was always the most important one, and he wasn't going to stop until Fulham were safe from relegation—and until he had proven, to himself and everyone else, that he belonged on this stage.