After the celebrations on the field, fans slowly began to filter out of the stadium. The players and staff made their way toward the dressing room, laughter and chatter echoing down the tunnel.
Ramothwala and Max, however, remained behind for the post‑match interviews.
"What an amazing performance! How does it feel to be named Man of the Match, Max Zwide?" the female interviewer asked, leaning forward as she held out the microphone.
"Okay, I guess," Max replied with a nonchalant look.
Ramothwala lightly slapped his palm against his forehead. "Yahhh… nonchalant as always, I see."
The interviewer shifted her microphone toward Ramothwala, her smile widening.
"Another strong performance from you, Ramothwala. Brilliant goal, by the way. How does it feel to score in a big game like this and at a stadium as iconic as FNB Stadium?"
"Well… it was nothing, you know. I just gave it my all, and I try to do my best for the team," Ramothwala replied, his tone suddenly calm and collected.
Max blinked. "His whole demeanor has changed… what's wrong with him? Is he trying to act cool?" he thought.
The interviewer opened her mouth to ask another question, but Ramothwala cut in with a grin. "How about we go get drinks after this?" he suggested.
"Uhmm…" The interviewer tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, caught off guard.
Before the moment could get more awkward, Max grabbed Ramothwala by the arm and started dragging him away. "Hey, Max, what are you doing? Let me go!" Ramothwala protested.
"You should be banned from interviews, idiot," Max muttered, hauling him all the way toward the dressing room.
At the media room, journalists packed the seats, their eyes fixed on the podium as they awaited Jaden's arrival.
When Jaden finally stepped in, cameras flashed with every stride he took toward his assigned seat. He settled down, adjusting the microphone in front of him. Instantly, hands shot up across the room.
Jaden scanned the crowd, his gaze steady, before pointing to one journalist. "Go ahead," he said, inviting the first question
"Coach, 1–2 away win. How pleased are you with the victory and the character the team showed to come back?" the journalist asked.
"Uhm… yes, I'm happy with the win. I never doubted them for a second. I knew they could turn the game around, and they did," Jaden replied firmly.
Another journalist leaned forward. "Fans online said you were lucky today, just like in your other matches. What's your response?"
Jaden smiled faintly, shrugging. "Ever since I was appointed manager, nobody has said anything positive. I'm still unbeaten, but the comments are always negative. Well, if they call it luck, then I guess I'm the luckiest guy in the world."
He pointed to another journalist, signaling for the next question.
"Skyland FC won their game too, and their manager Lopez had some strong words about you. He said he knows your weakness and how to hurt your team if you reach the final. What's your response?"
Jaden's expression hardened. "Manager Lopez is trying to get into my head, and it won't work. He should know my team will reach the final."
"Bold words," another journalist pressed. "Do you really think you can beat the Caribbean Pirates, number one in the table, still unbeaten?"
Jaden grinned. "We've beaten two South African giants already. We can certainly beat another one. And besides, we're on an unbeaten streak of our own."
"Rumors are circulating that Ramsey's suspension has ended and he'll rejoin the team. There are also claims of an altercation between you and him before the suspention. How do you respond?" the journalist asked.
Suddenly, the mood in the room shifted. Jaden's expression hardened into a grim stare.
"They are nothing but rumors. Now, if that is all… I'll be leaving," he said flatly.
He pushed back his chair and stood, walking briskly toward the exit as cameras continued to flash.
The room erupted in murmurs. One journalist whispered, "Did he just storm out?" while another muttered, "Then the rumors must be true…"
A few minutes later, inside the Nobles FC team bus, the atmosphere was noticeably quieter. The vehicle rumbled to life, pulling away from the FNB Stadium under the glow of the floodlights. Journalists' voices and camera flashes faded into the distance as the players settled into their seats, some staring out the windows, others murmuring among themselves.
Jaden sat near the front, arms folded, with Anna beside him in the window seat. Just ahead of them, Jeremy Bolt and Willies occupied the seats in front, their voices low as they exchanged quiet remarks about the match.
The bus hummed steadily as it pulled away from the FNB Stadium,
Anna tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "So what was that all about? Does talking about Ramsey annoy you that much?"
Jaden turned toward her, lowering his voice. "No, it doesn't. That was all an act."
Jeremy, seated in front, leaned back slightly, unable to resist eavesdropping.
Anna frowned. "What do you mean?"
Jaden smirked. "It's all part of my plan. You'll see." Before Anna could respond, he cut in quickly, changing the topic, "You know, you've been acting more girly than usual around me."
Anna's eyes widened. "What is that supposed to mean!" she snapped, punching Jaden lightly on the shoulder.
Jeremy slapped his forehead with his palm. "Jaden, buddy… come on. You never say that to a female," he muttered.
Willies chuckled, glancing at Jeremy. "For a humble professional guy, you can be pretty childish sometimes."
Jeremy leaned closer, whispering. "These two just caught my interest. Can't blame me for being curious. I'm a sucker for romance, and clearly, the young coach needs my help."
Awww… I mean exactly that," Jaden pointed out, his tone softening. "I haven't seen that side of you in a long time."
Anna paused, unable to reply at first. When she finally spoke, her voice was low. "It's not my fault you're dense," she muttered.
Jaden leaned forward. "Dense? I'm not dense," he argued.
Jeremy adjusted himself in his seat, shaking his head with a quiet grin. "With all his intellect, he still can't figure it out," he thought.
At the Caribbean Pirates training ground, the floodlights burned bright against the night sky. Grimorè remained on the pitch, firing shot after shot from distance, each strike rattling the upper goalpost with precision.
"Grimorè… it's late. You should go home," his manager called out, concern in his voice.
Without looking back, Grimorè shook his head. "Not yet. I still have a lot of training to do. Please… you can leave without me, coach."
He steadied himself, took another shot, and once again the ball clanged off the crossbar, echoing through the empty ground.
The manager watched Grimorè's relentless strikes, each one clanging against the upper goalpost under the floodlights. A grin spread across his face.
"There's fire in his eyes," he murmured. "I fear for the other clubs… they don't know what they're up against."