Daoist_Nelen

Nicholas Marjan, known as Niels, was an Asian football-obsessed loner in the modern world. A master of FIFA Career Mode, addicted to YouTube tactics videos, and followed every twist of the transfer window like it was life or death, he lived the beautiful game from behind a screen.
Until the day he died.
And woke up in the late 2000s, in the body of a once-promising young player at a lower-league English club. A player whose career had been cut short by a brutal ACL injury. With his playing career over before it could truly begin, his second life offers no glory on the pitch.
But Niels still has one weapon: his mind.
Armed with future knowledge of football's evolution, and guided by a mysterious, almost cheat-like instinct for scouting raw talent, Niels steps into the world of coaching. As an assistant at a struggling lower-league club, he begins to reshape the team from within challenging outdated tactics, unearthing hidden gems, and reigniting hope in the dressing room.
His methods are unorthodox. His instincts, uncanny. And soon, whispers about the "young coach with a gift" begin to spread.
This isn’t the story of a player chasing glory. It’s about someone reborn to change the game from the sidelines. From forgotten training grounds to Europe’s biggest stages, Niels is on a mission, 
not just to win, but to rewrite what it means to lead.
He once dreamed of lifting trophies as a player.
Now, he'll do it as a coach.

Touchline Rebirth: From Game To Glory

Chapter 71: Till the Final Breath (Semi-final: Part-II)

The whistle blew at 4:00 p.m., Crawley kicking off, their red shirts a flicker in the claret-and-blue tide. Wembley's roar erupted, Villa's 35,000 fans thundering, "Villa! Villa!" a deafening wave that crushed Crawley's 5,000 chanting, "Red Devils!" The noise was a living force, pinning Crawley deep in their half, hearts pounding under the floodlights. Ashley Young tore down the left in the 47th minute, his cross whipping low and vicious, Liam McCulloch's desperate slide, Instinct Lens Steel glowing, deflecting it inches from Agbonlahor's boot, the east stand exploding, "Li-am!" Milan, in the front row, clapped fiercely, his shout, "Hold him, Liam!" lost in the din. Niels signaled tighter marking, his pulse hammering, Thiago Otero Silva and Nate Sutton stretching the flanks, Max prowling the box like a lion ready to strike.