CHAPTER 41

c41 – Let's Go

The League Cup matches may not garner the same level of attention as Premier League fixtures, but this one was different. Word had spread that Jamie Vardy, Everton's latest breakout sensation, would be in the starting eleven. After scoring twice off the bench in back-to-back league matches against West Ham United and Aston Villa fans and media alike were eager to see if he could maintain that form from the first whistle.

At the pre-match press conference, Sheffield Wednesday manager David Wilson formerly the club's youth development director found himself cornered by a barrage of pointed questions. Chief among them: "How could you have let go of a future Premier League star like Vardy?"

Wilson was visibly uncomfortable but maintained his stance. "I don't see anything particularly special about Vardy. I stand by my original assessment. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time twice. Give any Academy lad the same luck, and they could have scored those goals too."

"The media is blowing things out of proportion, acting like he's the next Alan Shearer. But he's not. Mark my words he's just a flash in the pan. A couple of lucky strikes don't make a career. Those might well be the best two goals he ever scores."

Though his words were firm, everyone could see the cracks in his composure. It was more defiance than confidence, perhaps a desperate attempt at psychological self-preservation.

Reporters, sensing blood in the water, exchanged knowing glances. Wilson was being stubborn, and the headlines wrote themselves.

When the media filtered Wilson's remarks back to Vardy, he didn't show any overt anger just a thin, contemptuous smile. But inside, a fire was lit. In his heart, he had already sentenced Wilson. He would use this match to bury him.

Wilson, who had once belittled him and deemed him unworthy of Sheffield Wednesday, would regret every word. This wasn't just another match to Vardy it was justice, retribution, and personal closure rolled into one.

"If Wilson truly believes in his words, let's see if he still stands by them after the match," Vardy told local journalist Anne Foster. "Whether he keeps his job at Sheffield Wednesday, well… that's up to the football gods."

This wasn't just Vardy vs. Sheffield Wednesday. It had become Vardy vs. Wilson mentor turned naysayer.

Normally, one would expect fan support to split along club lines Everton backing Vardy, Sheffield Wednesday rallying behind Wilson. But the reality was far from normal.

Everton fans had already embraced Vardy. After all, his goals had directly contributed to their perfect start to the season, putting them joint-top with Chelsea. Social media lit up with messages praising their "non-league gem" and mocking Wilson's poor judgement.

But in a twist of irony, even Sheffield Wednesday fans weren't backing their manager. Many publicly criticized Wilson for discarding a player who might have become the greatest talent in Hillsborough's history. Some fans even expressed hope that Vardy might one day return to Sheffield Wednesday as a prodigal son to rescue the club from mediocrity.

And Wilson? They wanted him out.

As the public backlash grew, Wilson felt like a man isolated in his own dugout.

At that moment, Vardy's phone rang. His father, who had followed his journey from Stocksbridge Park Steels to the Premier League, was on the other end.

"I saw the news… you're starting against Sheffield Wednesday?" his father asked with cautious curiosity, his voice tinged with hesitation.

Vardy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Dad. Starting. What's up? Any last-minute advice?"

There was a pause, and then came the unexpected reply: "Well… maybe go a little easy on them? You know, don't embarrass Wednesday too badly. If they can win, that'd be ideal. I mean, Everton doesn't need the League Cup this year, right?"

Vardy almost dropped his phone.

Was his own father asking him to throw the game?

"Dad, are you trying to get me involved in a phone call scandal?" Vardy joked, half in disbelief. "If anyone leaks this, my career's over!"

"Dad, you're asking me to fix a match!" Vardy sighed and said in a heavy tone.

"No, I just asked you to let it go, not to fix the match!" Dad replied in an eerily casual voice, as if asking for an extra loaf of bread at the bakery.

Vardy was nearly in tears. Is there even a difference?!

"Dad, don't you think keeping that bastard Wilson at Sheffield Wednesday is a bad idea?" Vardy said, trying to reason with him. "If I play well tonight, I'll humiliate him in front of the whole country. Two goals off the bench in two games that's not luck. That's me proving I belonged. If I perform again, the board will have no choice but to consider his position. Don't you think the club deserves a real coach?"

"Hmm… you've got a point," his dad muttered after a pause. "Let's not even bring up the fact that he kicked you out of the youth team. Wilson's match tactics are prehistoric. Sheffield Wednesday's last three results were a 1-1 draw with Derby County, a 0-2 loss to Burnley, and a scrappy 1-0 win over Walsall. They barely hold mid-table in the Championship, and the fans are losing patience." He grunted. "Alright, go ahead and give him hell."

Vardy exhaled in relief. He had genuinely feared his dad would press him to hold back.

After hanging up the phone, Vardy stepped onto the training pitch. His Everton teammates were already stretching and passing, getting warmed up for the League Cup tie.

Carsley walked over, grinning. "You gonna handle your old team alone tonight, or should we lend a hand and embarrass Wilson together?"

They all knew this wasn't just another cup match. This was personal. If Vardy failed to impress tonight, Wilson's narrative of him being a one-hit wonder might gain traction. But if he scored again this time as a starter.it would be a direct blow to Wilson's reputation as a talent scout and coach.

Everton were, on paper, the stronger team.even with a rotated lineup. But complacency could spell disaster. League Cup upsets were part of English football tradition.

Vardy grinned. "No need, lads. I'll handle Sheffield Wednesday myself. You lot save your legs for the weekend. Arsenal's coming."

Carsley smirked. "Fine, but don't get your arse handed to you out there."

"Even if we do get smacked, Wilson's eating every last piece of it," Vardy replied, eyes gleaming.

Thankfully, Everton drew a home fixture at Goodison Park, avoiding a long midweek trip. If this match had been away, Moyes might've fielded a full youth side. But with the match in Liverpool, he saw it as a chance to maintain momentum.

The Toffees were flying high in the Premier League, with 10 points from 5 games, currently third in the table, just behind Arsenal and Chelsea. They had beaten Manchester United 1-0 on opening day, drawn 1-1 with Aston Villa, and edged past West Brom and Blackburn. Even the narrow 2-1 loss to Arsenal away was respectable.

Some still labelled Everton a relegation-threatened team, but Moyes clearly had greater aspirations.

Why couldn't Everton finish in the top four?

Why not take this cup seriously and bring silverware back to Merseyside?

This wasn't just about tonight. It was about momentum, revenge, and rewriting the narrative both for Vardy and the club.

So no, relegation wasn't on Moyes' mind. He was thinking about Europe. Champions League nights. Legacy.

And tonight, Jamie Vardy was ready to light the spark.