The Coaching System

Jake arrived at the training ground as the sun was just rising.

It had been three days since the 1-0 victory over Stockport, and the energy around the club was little bit different.

Two wins in three matches wasn't easy for him, but for a team that had been at the bottom of the league all season, it felt like hope.

Before, every time Jake stepped into the facility, he could feel the weight of doubt pressing down on him. Players side-eyed him, staff whispered behind his back, and the fans barely acknowledged him.

Now?

People were starting to notice.

The ground staff greeted him with small nods instead of ignoring him. The cafeteria workers, who usually looked at him with pity, smiled a little when handing him his coffee.

It wasn't much.

But it was a start.

Outside the training ground, a few Bradford fans had gathered.

Nothing major—just a handful of supporters in scarves and jackets, chatting by the entrance.

Before, when they showed up, it was usually to protest or yell about how the club was finished.

This time?

They weren't shouting.

Jake walked past them, catching bits of their conversation.

"Two wins in three, eh?"

"Yeah, but we're still too close to relegation."

"Maybe, but at least we're fighting now."

Jake almost smiled. They weren't convinced yet—but they weren't dismissing him either.

He was winning them over. Slowly.

Then came the morning headlines.

The local newspaper, The Bradford Gazette, had finally acknowledged the progress.

"Wilson's Men on the Rise – Can They Escape Relegation?"

Jake skimmed the article. It wasn't glowing praise, but it recognized that the team looked different under him. More organized. More disciplined. More willing to fight.

That was the good news.

The national media was a different story.

"Lucky Wilson? Two Fluke Wins Won't Save Bradford" – The Daily Football Post

"One Counter-Attack Goal Isn't a Strategy" – Football Weekly

"Jake Wilson: Temporary Hope or the Next Sacked Manager?" – The Guardian Sport

Jake leaned back in his chair, reading the words without emotion.

It didn't matter.

The media wasn't going to change overnight.

And besides—he wasn't doing this for them.

He tossed the papers aside. There was still work to do.

The board meeting that afternoon was different from the last one.

A week ago, when he walked into the boardroom, they barely paid attention to him.

Now?

The chairman, Henry Lowe, actually looked pleased.

"Jake," Lowe started, clearing his throat. "Good result against Stockport. That puts us… what? Three points above the drop?"

Jake nodded. "Four."

Lowe smiled. "Even better."

The other directors muttered among themselves. A few nodded in approval.

The mood in the room had shifted.

A week ago, they were probably already scouting his replacement.

Now, they were starting to back him.

Lowe folded his hands on the table. "We still have a long way to go, but we like what we're seeing. Keep this up, and we'll discuss squad improvements for next season."

Jake wasn't surprised.

Football boards only cared about results. If he kept winning, they would support him. If he started losing again, they'd turn on him in a heartbeat.

That was just how it worked.

The real moment came later that evening.

The club's media officer had scheduled a press conference, and for the first time since Jake took over, the room was full.

Before, only a few journalists bothered to show up. Now, there were cameras, microphones, and reporters waiting for him to speak.

Jake took his seat at the podium, adjusting the microphone as the questions started.

"Jake, that's two wins in three matches. Do you think Bradford is turning a corner?"

Jake's expression remained unreadable. "We've taken steps forward. That's all."

A reporter from The Daily Football Post leaned forward.

"Some people say these wins were just luck. How do you respond to that?"

Jake smirked slightly. "If we win again, will that be lucky too?"

A few reporters chuckled.

Then came the biggest question.

"You're still in a relegation fight. What do you say to the fans who are still worried?"

Jake's gaze turned serious.

He leaned in slightly, voice firm.

"I understand their concern. But let me be clear—I promise we will avoid relegation."

Murmurs filled the room. Some reporters scribbled notes, others exchanged glances.

This was the first time Jake had publicly guaranteed safety.

A bold statement.

A dangerous statement—if he failed, it would be thrown back in his face.

But he wasn't afraid.

He knew what he was doing.

And now?

So did everyone else.