My Ultimate Gacha System-Chapter 175 - 170: England vs Italy U21 [IV]

Chapter 175: Chapter 170: England vs Italy U21 [IV]
The ball arrived at Demien’s feet cleanly and he took one touch to control, but the moment he received it the Italian section erupted again with louder jeers and whistles that echoed across the stadium, and immediately he felt pressure arriving from his right as Italy’s midfielder closed him down quicker than he’d anticipated, and for a split second Demien hesitated, trying to assess his options while the defender’s angle was tighter than he’d judged and the hostile noise pressed against his concentration.
He attempted to turn away from the pressure but took too long to release the ball, and Italy’s midfielder read the moment perfectly and stepped across to nick it away before Demien could complete his turn, and the small theft drew a brief groan from the England supporters while the Italian fans cheered the dispossession with vindictive satisfaction.
"Ohhhh, Walter caught in possession there on his debut," the commentator noted. "Took just a fraction too long. That hostile reception from the Italian fans can’t be helping his nerves—this is a difficult environment for any debutant, let alone with that kind of jeering every time he touches the ball."
Demien jogged back immediately to recover his defensive position while frustration flickered through his chest, and as he moved Owen Blake appeared beside him and patted his back once, his voice cutting through the noise with steady reassurance.
"Forget them," Owen said firmly, and his tone carried experience because he’d faced hostile crowds before. "Just play your game. Block it out. Next one."
From the touchline Carsley didn’t overreact or shout criticism, instead simply raising one hand in a calming gesture while calling out in a level tone that cut through clearly, "Relax, Demien. Keep moving. You’re fine."
The message was clear—don’t dwell on the mistake, don’t let the hostile crowd affect your game, just continue playing—and Demien took a breath and refocused as Italy’s brief attack broke down when their midfielder’s attempted through ball was intercepted by Marcus Doyle, and he forced himself to ignore the sporadic jeers that continued from the Italian section whenever he moved into space.
88’ - 90’ |
Two minutes later the opportunity came to make a cleaner contribution as England built possession through their backline, and the ball was played from right to left across the defensive line before reaching Leo Merrick in the double pivot position.
Merrick looked up and spotted Demien showing for the ball near the left touchline, having drifted into space between Italy’s right-back and midfielder, and the Wolves player played a simple pass into his feet while the Italian section prepared their jeers again.
This time Demien’s first touch was cleaner as he controlled the ball smoothly and immediately felt the presence of Italy’s defender approaching from behind, but instead of trying to turn he used his body to shield the ball, feeling the contact on his back while keeping possession, and his balance held as he absorbed the mild pressure while the expected boos came but felt less intense now, more sporadic than sustained.
He looked up quickly and saw Owen Blake making an overlapping run down the left flank, having read Demien’s positioning and accelerated into the space beyond, and Demien played a neat pass with the inside of his right foot into Owen’s path, the weight perfect as the ball rolled ahead of the Everton left-back.
"Nice from Walter there," the commentator observed. "Much better. Simple but effective. He’s blocked out that hostile reception and just played his game."
Owen collected the ball in stride and drove toward the byline before cutting a cross into the penalty area where Ryan Mitchell attacked the ball, arriving at the near post ahead of his marker, but his first-time shot flashed wide of the far post by a foot.
The crowd gave appreciative reactions to the move—not wild applause but acknowledging the quality of the buildup—and Demien jogged back into position while Owen raised his hand toward him in a brief gesture of appreciation for the pass, and the Italian section had gone quiet now, their jeers losing energy as the match wound down.
Commentary Booth
"Good idea from Walter, that," the lead commentator said. "Just settling the nerves, I think. That’s better composure, holding off the defender and finding his teammate with a clean pass."
"Exactly what Carsley would want to see," his colleague agreed. "Nothing spectacular, just calm, measured play. That’s how you manage your debut."
The final minutes played out without drama as England continued circulating possession and Italy’s efforts became increasingly token, and Demien touched the ball twice more—once receiving a simple pass and playing it backward to maintain possession, once moving into space but not receiving the ball as his teammate chose a different option.
Nothing dominant. Nothing spectacular. Just calm, composed involvement in the final stages of a settled match.
At 90+2 the fourth official raised the board showing three minutes of added time, and England’s players simply continued their patient possession game, content to run down the clock while Italy had clearly accepted the result.
The referee checked his watch as the ball was passed between England’s defenders, and when Tommy Grayson collected it he took the full six seconds before rolling it back out to restart, and then at 90+3 the final whistle blew.
Fweeeeeetttttttt! Fweeeeeetttttttt! Fweeeeeetttttttt!
FULL TIME: ENGLAND 3-0 ITALY
The players on both sides began shaking hands as the final whistle confirmed England’s comprehensive victory, and the modest crowd stood to applaud both teams while the England players showed professional satisfaction without excessive celebration, and Italy’s squad moved with quiet disappointment toward their coaching staff.
Demien walked across the pitch shaking hands with Italian players he passed, and when he spotted Luca Bianchi near the center circle his chest tightened slightly because this was the first time they’d faced each other representing different countries, and as their eyes met Luca’s tired expression broke into a genuine grin that immediately made the professional atmosphere feel less formal.
"Five minutes and you still managed to fuck up your first touch," Luca said in Italian as he pulled Demien into a tight hug, and his voice carried warmth mixed with familiar teasing that only close friends could manage after a defeat, and Demien felt some of the nervous tension drain from his shoulders. "Though those idiots booing you didn’t help, I’m sure."
"Yeah, that was..." Demien trailed off, and Luca squeezed his shoulder harder.
"Forget them. They’ll get over it," Luca said firmly, though his expression suggested he knew it wasn’t that simple. "You looked good after that first touch. That pass to Blake was clean."
"Thanks, brother," Demien said, and his voice carried genuine gratitude because Luca acknowledging the hostile reception made it feel less isolating. "You looked good out there too. Braga’s treating you well."
"Better than sitting on Atalanta’s bench waiting for scraps," Luca admitted, and his smile softened while exhaustion showed around his eyes. "We need to actually talk after this, yeah? Not just a quick hug on the pitch like strangers."
"Tomorrow. Breakfast before you fly back?"
"I’ll text you the hotel," Luca promised, and he squeezed Demien’s arm once. "Seriously though, good debut. That pass to Blake was clean."
"Thanks, brother," Demien said, and they separated with a final pat on each other’s backs before the moment slipped away as other players moved between them and the reality of representing different countries reasserted itself.
Kayden Muir appeared beside Demien as they walked toward the tunnel and offered his hand, and when Demien shook it the Manchester City midfielder’s expression was approving without being overly familiar.
"Solid debut," Kayden said simply, and his tone carried the professionalism of someone acknowledging good work without overstepping. "That pass to Blake was quality. Good composure after the first touch."
"Appreciate it," Demien responded.
Kayden nodded once and moved ahead toward the other starters who were already halfway to the tunnel, and Demien understood the gesture for what it was—acknowledgment from the squad’s best player that he’d handled himself professionally, nothing more and nothing less, and that was enough for a first camp.
They continued toward the tunnel as the substitutes and starters merged into one group, and the England coaching staff stood waiting near the touchline to congratulate each player with handshakes and brief words of encouragement, and when Demien reached Carsley the coach gripped his hand firmly while his eyes stayed direct and honest.
"Good composure after that first touch," Carsley said, and his voice carried neither disappointment nor excessive praise, just honest assessment. "That’s what I want to see—mistakes happen, but you recovered and played your game. Well done."
"Thank you, boss."
Carsley nodded and moved to the next player, and Demien felt the professionalism of it settle over him because this wasn’t club football where Gasperini might pull him aside for detailed feedback, this was international duty where everything was measured and efficient and you earned your place through performance rather than promises.
The tunnel swallowed the England squad as they filed toward the away dressing room, and behind them the stadium began emptying while the scoreboard confirmed the final result in bright digital numbers: ENGLAND 3-0 ITALY.
Demien’s first England appearance: five minutes, two clean touches after the initial mistake, one assist-contribution to a chance that went wide, and most importantly—composure when it mattered.
Not dominant. Not spectacular.
Just a calm, professional introduction to international football.
Normal.
Exactly what a debut should be.