Dawson stood near the touchline, arms folded, as the senior team finished their warm-up laps around the training ground.
The morning was brisk but bright, the grass still glistening slightly under the sun from a light dawn drizzle.
Dr. Ellis, their team doctor, joined him a moment later, pieces of paper in an envelope, tucked under one arm, and a calm, focused look on his face.
"Morning, Dawson," he said, shifting beside the coach as the two began to walk down the sideline together.
"Ellis," Dawson nodded.
"Talk to me. Let's go one by one. I want the latest and no guessing. Just facts."
Dr. Ellis gave a quick nod and flipped the page.
"Starting with Nathan Broadhead. It was a right hamstring, Grade 2 tear. It happened two weeks ago now, during the second half against Rotherham.
His leg overstretched on that last sprint near the end—classic overexertion without full recovery from the previous week."
Dawson exhaled slowly. "And?"
"We've kept him completely off the field. No resistance yet. Just hydrotherapy and range of motion in the pool. Some light isometric exercises this week," he paused after a player went down after the jog.
Dawson looked over to see the medics raising their thumbs towards him after checking up on the player, and only then did Dawson let out the air he had unconsciously held in.
"Continue, Ellis," he said, turning towards the man beside her.
"Um, yeah. We will have no direct hamstring loading until next week. If he responds well, he can begin linear jogging in week four. But best case scenario? Six weeks' total recovery time. That's four more from now."
Dawson gave a short nod and said nothing.
"Next is Defensive midfielder, Christ Tiehi," Ellis continued. He rolled his right ankle during training. Mild inversion sprain. Grade 1."
"He's had trouble with that ankle before," Dawson said quietly.
"Exactly. That's why we're treating it carefully. The first 72 hours were a total offload. Now he's doing proprioceptive drills—balance pads, wobble boards, band resistance for the peroneals.
If he maintains stability, we'll let him start straight-line running by the end of this week. Return to full play likely in 10 to 14 days, assuming no swelling or instability."
"So roughly two weeks, give or take."
"Give or take, yes."
Dawson scratched the side of his jaw.
"Thomas Pearce?"
Dr. Ellis frowned slightly.
"Groin strain. Right side. Overuse issue—he didn't report early symptoms, so it escalated. Not a tear, but enough to impact stride length and lateral movement."
Dawson grimaced. "That's a delicate one."
"Very. We've gone full rest. First two weeks: compression, mild anti-inflammatories, and targeted massage to reduce tension in the adductors.
We'll test his adduction strength in week three. If he's pain-free under load, we start graduated resistance work. He's out for six to seven weeks at a minimum."
"No field work until… week five?" Dawson asked.
"Week four, maybe. But that's just light movement. Cutting, acceleration—week six, if everything goes perfectly."
Dawson didn't respond immediately. He just looked out over the training ground where the rest of the squad had begun short passing drills.
"Morgan," he said finally.
"Partial shoulder subluxation," Dr. Ellis said.
"Non-dominant side. Happened in that aerial challenge—landed wrong, and it slipped. Popped back in on its own, which is a relief, but we've still got soft tissue trauma around the joint."
"Sling?"
"For another four days. We're doing scapular stabilizer work already—just small range stuff, no resistance.
After the sling comes off, we'll do isometric loading, then controlled external rotation to avoid aggravating the capsule.
It'll be three full weeks before he's cleared to even train in a non-contact bib."
Dawson nodded again, slower this time. "And you're confident with that?"
"We're monitoring it every day. If he regains full range without pain, he'll be back in limited training right on schedule. Full contact after that, maybe week four."
Dawson rubbed the back of his neck, expression unreadable.
Dr. Ellis lowered the paper.
"They're all responding well to treatment so far. We're doing everything we can to make sure there's no regression."
Dawson looked out at the training pitch again, his voice calm.
"Good. That's all I needed to hear."
"You can go, Doctor Ellis, if that's all," Dawson said, to which Ellis nodded before turning away.
As Dr. Ellis walked away, Dawson stayed where he was, watching a midfielder and fullback pair go through diagonal sprint drills across the width of the pitch.
His brow was furrowed, his jaw set in thought.
"Any good news?" came Nolan's voice from just behind him.
Dawson turned slightly to see his assistant approaching, sleeves rolled up, a clipboard of his own in hand.
He looked like he hadn't had coffee yet.
Or maybe just hadn't slept well.
"If you count 'not catastrophic' as good news," Dawson said, voice low.
"The player who returns soonest is in two weeks, and the latest is seven."
Nolan sighed, glancing over the field as if expecting to see a miracle waiting in training bibs.
"The next match is in five days."
"I know."
"So…" Nolan paused, shifting on his feet.
"What's the move? We can't cover this with the senior lads we've got. Not with the fixture load."
Dawson didn't answer immediately. He watched one of the wingers miscontrol a switch pass, earning a groan from the coach in charge of the drill.
Then he turned his gaze to Nolan.
"Look into the U23s," Dawson said finally.
Nolan blinked. "Anyone in particular?"
"Solid players," Dawson said.
"Not the ones we're still trying to develop. Not the ones we keep telling ourselves will come good eventually.
I mean real pieces. Ones that can hold their own if we dropped them in a first-team match today."
Nolan frowned slightly. "You're saying…"
"I'm saying," Dawson cut in, "that most of the lads still stuck in the U23s for this long? They're still there for a reason.
We've been generous. Patient. Sometimes too patient. But patience doesn't win games."
Nolan looked away, jaw tightening.
Dawson continued, voice a notch lower. "We need players who can plug into this setup and not sink the second the game picks up pace.
If we're promoting, it's got to be someone who forces our hand, not someone we're dragging up for the sake of numbers."
Nolan nodded slowly, processing it all.
"I'll get started now," Nolan said and turned to go, but he halted before turning towards Dawson again.
"What about your protégé?"
Dawson grunted.
"Not yet," Dawson said.
And with that, he turned and walked off toward the edge of the facility, leaving Nolan standing on the touchline, already flipping through his notes.
...
[The Following Day]
Nolan stood by the small open door to the U21 staff office, arms crossed and a quiet crease of tension between his brows.
Inside, Coach Thompson sat at his desk, reviewing the lineup and notes from the last match while sipping what looked like his third coffee of the day.
"You heard what happened with the first team?" Nolan asked as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.
Thompson glanced up. "Yeah. Ellis told me?"
"Midfielder, both wings, and the left-back,"
Nolan said, stepping fully into the room now.
"We're tight. Dawson's looking through the U23s."
Thompson arched a brow. "So why are you here?"
"Nothing much. I just wanted you to watch someone aside from Leo. Ezra."
A pause.
"Add him to your shortlist," Nolan said.
"I know he's still raw and plays loose sometimes, but with two wingers out, we can't overlook his pace and timing anymore."
Thompson leaned back in his chair.
A slow smirk curled at the corner of Thompson's lips.
"So will he promote Ezra alongside Leo?"
Nolan snorted. "Not yet."
Thompson frowned.
"Still? What's he waiting for, a hologram version of the kid?"
Nolan shrugged. "Said it wasn't time. You know how he is. He needs to be pushed to the edge before he jumps."
Thompson looked out the window that faced one of the smaller training pitches.
Outside, the boys were finishing up a short-sided game.
Leo was near the center, casually juggling a ball after the final whistle, while Ezra was stretching near the sideline, laughing at something Ben said.
"You better tell Dawson," Thompson said, his voice firmer now, "that we've got two matches in quick succession this week."
Nolan turned back toward him. "Against whom?"
"Sheffield United U21s—top of the league," Thompson replied. "And a Premier League Cup match against Wolves' U21s four days later."
Nolan let out a low whistle.
Thompson continued, "Tell Dawson to show up. Both games. Sit there and watch. Because even though he brought Leo here, he seems to be underestimating the ability of the kid.."
Nolan glanced again out the window where Leo had just flicked the ball up with his heel and caught it effortlessly in one hand, walking back with Ezra toward the tunnel.
"You think Leo's ready?" Nolan asked.
Thompson didn't even look at him.
"He outclasses players that are 2-3 years older and much physically bigger than him. I know he will find his place in any team in this league, so tell Dawson to double down."