Leicester City had knocked Stoke City out of the FA Cup third round, advancing to the fourth.
That meant their round 27 league match, originally scheduled for January 25th, was pushed back to February 12th.
In its place: a cup clash against Premier League giants Chelsea, the Blues.
And the match would be played at Leicester’s home ground.
The last round, Leicester’s comeback win over Stoke City had already left their fans stunned and delighted.
Add in the team’s blistering league form and winning streak, and the Foxes faithful were more than ready to pack the King Power Stadium and roar their side on.
Within three hours of tickets going on sale, every seat was gone.
All except the three thousand reserved for away supporters.
The FA Cup, it has to be said, is a golden moneymaker for lower-league clubs.
Start with the prize money.
Reach the first round, and you pocket thirty-six thousand pounds.
Second round, fifty-four thousand.
Third round, eighty-two thousand.
The deeper you go, the bigger the payout.
Beyond the prize money, gate receipts are a serious haul.
The two clubs split the ticket revenue after costs, each taking their share.
Throw in the broadcast distribution and other streams of income, and the numbers add up fast.
For a Championship side, it is a nice little earner.
For League One or League Two clubs, further down the pyramid, that kind of money could cover months of expenses.
Half a year.
Even a full year.
So those teams field their strongest eleven and fight for every inch.
The wealthy Premier League clubs, by contrast, do not lose much sleep over that bit of cash.
As a rule, Premier League sides treat the cups as a proving ground for youngsters and reserves.
They rarely send out the starters.
That is exactly why the FA Cup throws up giant-killings.
Lower-league sides toppling Premier League opponents, season after season.
Of course, even a fully rotated Premier League side, packed with backups, is still a monster for a lower-league team to handle.
Every player sitting on a Premier League bench is rock solid.
Either a gifted young prospect or a veteran with a wealth of top-flight experience.
Leicester’s coaching staff had already analyzed Chelsea and expected them to rotate heavily for the FA Cup tie.
Even so, the Foxes took nothing for granted.
They stuck to their plan, drilling the possession-based system built around Leo Hale.
…
Belvoir Drive.
On the first-team training pitch, manager Nigel Pearson’s voice rang out at regular intervals.
“Dean, less dribbling, more passing!” “Riyad, hold it up on the right, wait for the fullback to overlap.” “Leo, I want you getting into the edge of the box more.
Be there for the cutback.” The Leicester players, dressed in long-sleeved training kits, worked through the manager’s instructions with full focus.
Late January on this stretch of the British Isles.
A sharp, biting wind swept across the pitch.
Thankfully, the sun was out, bright and generous, chasing away some of the chill from their bones.
The intra-squad scrimmage ended with the whistle.
Leo, drenched in sweat, peeled off the orange bib that marked him as a starter and headed to the sideline.
The fitness coach handed him a towel and a sports drink.
As he wiped the sweat from his face, manager Nigel Pearson came over, grabbed his shoulder, and launched straight in.
“Leo, good work out there.
But against Chelsea, if we want to control possession, it won’t come easy.” “I need you moving.
Constant movement.
Always showing for the pass, always giving your teammates an option.” Leo listened to Pearson break down the tactical details, nodding as he drank.
After two straight weeks of video sessions, he not only had a solid grasp of the team’s system but had also seen his relevant attributes improve across the board.
And because his defensive numbers had started so low, even without dedicated training or extra work, his ratings in the Defending category had crept up noticeably.
Tackling went from 40 to 42.
Marking from 35 to 37.
Two points each.
Beyond that, his Physical attributes showed the most growth.
Everyone knew Leo’s physicality was a weakness.
So over the past two weeks, Pearson had assigned a fitness coach to put him through a specialized contact-training program.
When a manager gives a player private one-on-one work, it generally means one of two things.
Either the player’s current level is not quite there yet, but the potential is obvious.
Or the player is good enough, but has a glaring hole in his game.
Either way, it signals that the manager sees real value in that player.
Because for the ones with no potential and no talent, a manager would not waste a single minute on them.
Under the fitness coach’s direct guidance, Leo’s Balance climbed from 62 to 64.
Strength ticked up from 45 to 47.
The gains were not huge.
But seeing measurable growth, watching himself get stronger bit by bit, was enough to fuel Leo’s hunger to train even harder.
It was worth noting that after the last league match, he had completed two achievements: first Championship goal and Championship Man of the Match.
The two free attribute points they rewarded had both gone into Acceleration.
And this time, after adding those points, Leo finally felt a tangible difference.
He could sense it.
A tiny fraction more explosiveness off the mark when he launched into a sprint.
Not much.
But real.
Unmistakable.
That faint change in his body sent Leo’s mind racing.
If one day, his Acceleration hit 99, what would that even feel like?
…
Intensive preparation and training ate up the days, and soon it was the eve of the match.
Which meant it was the day the starting lineup for the next game would be announced.
The entire first-team squad gathered in the tactical room.
Every pair of eyes was fixed on Nigel Pearson, each player hoping his name would be the next one out of the manager’s mouth.
“The starting eleven for tomorrow’s match.
Kasper Schmeichel.” “Moore.” “Riyad Mahrez.” “Leo!” Once the starting eleven were named, Pearson moved on to the bench.
Leo barely heard a word of it.
He had known his first start would not be long in coming.
That much he had expected.
But the moment his name landed in the starting lineup, something surged through him.
A wave he could not hold back.
Tomorrow, in the FA Cup.
His first start for Leicester City’s first team.
He thought back to just over half a month ago.
His first-team debut.
That had been in the FA Cup too.
And now his first start.
Also the FA Cup.
The thought pulled a single line from him, half a joke, half a quiet truth.
Could it be that I am a man born for the FA Cup?
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