England's Greatest

Chapter 145: England’s Crown Jewel

Chapter 145 - England’s Crown Jewel[Check out the Patreon, I think there's like 51 advance Chapters there with daily Chapters, and drop some power stones, comment and review if you guys want to, trying to hit 2500 power stones this week.]

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October 10, 2014 – En Route to Estonia

The quiet hum of the private jet filled the cabin, carrying the England squad from London to Tallinn for their next Euro 2016 Qualifier. The players were relaxed settling into their usual mid-flight routines—some watching movies, others dozing off, a few locked into an intense FIFA tournament on the plane's console.

Wayne Rooney and Joe Hart were near the front, bantering with Cahill, while Jack Wilshere had his headphones in, nodding along to whatever was blasting in his ears. Jordan Henderson and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain were furiously clicking buttons, locked into a heated FIFA grudge match, with Raheem Sterling talking endless trash beside them.

And then there was Tristan.

Slouched against the window, one headphone in, phone in hand—but not scrolling through social media like usual.

No.

He was learning Hungarian.

The idea had hit him after Barbara's birthday dinner—watching her constantly translate, her family speaking around him while he sat there, understanding nothing.

So he'd downloaded a language app.

Now, with the flight giving him a few uninterrupted hours, he put it to work.

His screen displayed the basics:

???? Jó reggelt – Good morning

???? Köszönöm – Thank you

???? Hogy vagy? – How are you?

???? Nagyon szép vagy – You're very beautiful

Tristan huffed a quiet laugh at that last one. He could already imagine Barbara's reaction if he randomly dropped that into conversation.

But that was the thing—she wouldn't know.

He wasn't going to tell her.

Not yet.

This was for her—for her family. For István, Ágnes, and Anita. So next time, when he was sitting at that dining table, he wouldn't just be some English guy staring blankly at his plate while Hungarian flew over his head.

Maybe he wouldn't be fluent overnight. But even a little? It would mean something.

A tap on his shoulder snapped him out of it.

"Yo."

Tristan locked his phone instinctively before looking up— Vardy was watching him, one eyebrow raised.

"You planning world domination over there, or what?"

"Something like that," Tristan said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Vardy squinted, clearly suspicious, but then shrugged. "As long as you ain't plotting against me, I don't care."

He flopped back into his seat, stretching his legs out. "Anyway, what's the Twitterverse saying about you today? Your little fangirls losing their minds again?"

And just like that—Tristan was back to reality.

Tristan sighed, unlocking his phone again.

And everywhere he looked?

It was him.

Twitter

@Markisahandsomelad

"Tristan Hale is playing like a veteran. This kid is a joke. England's future."

(6-minute edit of his goals, assists, and key moments against San Marino.)

@UCLAnalysis

"This pass from Tristan Hale to Vardy is football intelligence at its finest. The timing—it's PERFECT."

( Clip of his lofted assist to Jamie Vardy.)

@TristanPropaganda

"I don't think people understand just how good Tristan Hale actually is. 19 years old and already England's most important midfielder and player."

Tristan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. The hype was fun, sure—but he knew how quickly the English media turned on players.

And then there were the fan edits.

YouTube's Top Recommended Videos:

???? "Tristan Hale - The Best (Full Highlights Compilation)"

???? "Tristan Hale Is Ice Cold" (AMV with Eminem's 'Till I Collapse' blasting in the background.)

???? "Why Tristan Hale Will Be England's Next Captain"

???? "Tristan Hale - The Best Midfielder In The World?"

One video had over a million views already—a slow-motion edit of him gliding past defenders, picking out perfect passes, and celebrating at Wembley.

The comment section?

Unhinged.

@TristanFanatic: "Bro is literally built different. How is he 19 playing like a prime Zidane???"

@ThreeLionsFTW: "If we don't build England's midfield around Tristan, we're failing as a nation."

@ChelseaTransferNews: "We NEED him. Blank check. Just give Leicester whatever they want."

And then there were the crazy ones.

@Tristan4Ever: "Tristan, PLEASE answer my DMs, I am BEGGING YOU."

@TristanObsessed: "I would actually let him ruin my life and I'd say thank you."

@MrsHale10: "If Barbara ruins his career, I will personally riot."

Tristan actually laughed out loud, shaking his head.

Vardy, still watching him, smirked. "What now?"

"Twitter being Twitter," Tristan muttered, locking his phone again.

But then—he made the mistake of opening Instagram.

And the first post on his feed?

Barbara.

Paris, France

Birthday getaway with my favorites.

The first photo? Barbara in front of the Eiffel Tower at sunset, looking stunning, her hair up in a loose ponytail.

The second? A candid shot of her and Anita, laughing at a café table, coffee cups in hand.

The third?

A picture of him.

Asleep.

Face buried in the crook of his arm, curls messy, completely knocked out. Taken without his knowledge.

The fourth?

A photo of him standing in front of their new house, the house blurred out.

The caption?

"So proud of you. The start of a new family."

His smile automatically came out at the last caption..

But then—he made the mistake of opening the comments.

At first, it was normal.

@BarbaraFan: "They are actually the cutest couple, I swear. ????????"

@EnglandFC: "Tristan Hale winning on and off the pitch."

@BPalvinLover: "She really flew from New York to Leciester to see him play ???? QUEEN."

But then—the fangirls.

@TristanObsessed: "We lost. She's officially claimed him. ????"

@HaleNation: "Barbara, drop your skincare routine because HOW did you pull Tristan Hale???"

@HaleWife: "I REFUSE to believe this is real."

And then?

The ugly ones.

@Antaineoliain: "She's been with like 3 guys before Tristan. Meanwhile, he's never even had a girlfriend. She's using him."

@FootballPurist: "She's just another model clout-chasing footballers. This never ends well."

@TristanFC: "She went from dating a singer, an actor, and a businessman to TRISTAN HALE. She's collecting men like Pokémon cards."

@TheSonicTurtle: "She's been passed around, and now she's with OUR golden boy? Nah, I don't accept this."

@EnglandGirl: "She doesn't love him. She loves the attention. Wake up, Tristan."

And just like that his smile faded away.

He hated this part of it.

Hated that Barbara had to deal with this shit just for being with him.

The double standards were insane.

She had dated three people before him—which was normal. Hell, he didn't even count the high school relationship since it's a fucking school relationship that lasted like one year, pretty standard stuff. Then she dated Justin for like a week, and he hated that bastard. How selfish can you get to not defend Barbara from your crazy ex? And fuck Niall Horan.

In his first life he had multiple girlfriends, and suddenly, she was "ruining" him?

He exhaled calming himself down, locking his phone before he could see more.

Vardy nudged him again, this time with a knowing look.

"Ignore it, whatever it is."

Tristan sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yeah."

But it wasn't that easy.

Because no matter how much he ignored it, he knew Barbara saw it, too.

Tristan stared at his phone, the weight of the hate pressing down on him.

It wasn't that he was surprised—he knew how football culture worked, how fans obsessed over players like they were personal property.

But this?

The way they were talking about Barbara—as if she was just some disposable accessory, as if her past relationships somehow devalued her—pissed him off.

And what pissed him off even more?

She never even told him.

She just let it slide.

Tristan leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling sharply through his nose.

Maybe she hadn't wanted to worry him.

Maybe she thought it was normal—because for her, it was.

This wasn't new to Barbara.

She had dealt with worse.

He wanted to call her but held himself back; she was enjoying her birthday. He didn't want to be a dick ruining her experience. And he wanted to talk face-to-face so she couldn't just hide her feelings. They deal with it together.

.....

October 12, 2014: A. Le Coq Arena, Tallinn, Estonia

The floodlights cut through the cold Tallinn night, illuminating the compact but fiercely loud A. Le Coq Arena. The air was crisp, the temperature hovering just above single digits, but the passion in the stands made up for any chill in the air.

Estonian flags waved furiously, blue, black, and white banners rippling in the wind, while chants echoed through the stadium—raw, passionate, and defiant.

They knew England was the superior team. But this was their turf. This was their fight.

Clive Tyldesley adjusted his headset as the camera panned across the packed stands, the energy of the Estonian crowd palpable.

"Welcome to Tallinn, where England looks to continue their perfect start to the European Championship qualifiers. Glenn, this isn't Wembley, this isn't San Marino—this is an away night against an Estonia team looking to make a statement."

Beside him, Glenn Hoddle nodded, his gaze fixed on the pitch below.

"Exactly, Clive. These games aren't as easy as people think. Estonia will be compact, they'll be physical, and they'll be looking for any opportunity to break forward. England can't afford to be complacent tonight."

The cameras cut to the tunnel, where the England squad stood waiting.

The echo of the stadium noise rumbled through the tunnel walls. Players bounced lightly on their toes, stretching out their muscles, shaking off the cold.

Tristan Hale stood in the middle of the group.

Ahead of him at the front was Wayne Rooney, England's captain, leader, and legend, adjusted. He turned, casting a brief glance over his teammates.

"Let's handle business. Professional performance. No sloppiness."

The message was clear to all—no room for complacency.

Then, the opposition stepped forward.

Ragnar Klavan, Estonia's captain, led his side out. The 6'2" center-back carried himself like a man ready for war—broad shoulders squared, his cold stare making it obvious:

England wasn't getting anything easy tonight.

A moment of silence.

The stadium fell into a hush for the national anthems, the Estonian crowd belting out their anthem with raw pride, every voice carrying across the floodlit arena.

The England players stood stoic as their own anthem followed, but their focus was elsewhere.

Kickoff loomed.

Tristan cracked his neck to one side. 60 seconds to go.

The referee glanced at both captains. A sharp nod.

The whistle blew.

Game on.

"And we're underway here in Tallinn!" Clive Tyldesley's voice rang through the broadcast. "England, in their traditional white, attacking from left to right. Estonia, in their deep blue, setting up to frustrate Hodgson's side."

From the opening whistle, Estonia's intent was clear—this wasn't going to be a passive performance.

"And already, Glenn, you can see Estonia's approach. They're not just sitting back—pressing high, snapping into tackles, hustling for loose balls—they're trying to rattle England early."

Glenn Hoddle nodded as the camera panned to the aggressive Estonia, swarming England like a pack of wolves. "Exactly, Clive. They're playing brave. They know England is superior technically, so they're trying to disrupt the rhythm before it starts."

Klavan and Mets, Estonia's two centre-backs, weren't just defending deep—they were stepping into midfield, compressing the space, and making life difficult for England's playmakers.

Tristan felt the weight of a man at his back every time he received the ball. Every touch was met with a shove, every dribble met with a body in the way.

England tried to control possession, knocking the ball from side to side, but the first ten minutes were frustrating.

"England is struggling to find a way through here, Glenn."

Hoddle agreed. "They need more movement in the final third. Right now, Estonia is keeping it compact, forcing England to play sideways. Hale's looking for those pockets of space, but he needs options ahead of him."

England kept knocking, but the door didn't open.

As the first half wore on, England found their rhythm. Estonia's initial intensity had waned slightly, and no,w Hodgson's side began dictating the tempo.

Tristan, once pressed and harassed, now dropped deeper, drifting between the lines like a conductor orchestrating a symphony. Every touch was measured, every pass deliberate, constantly

"Hey, I get it," Rooney said, his tone softer now. "I was in your position once. 2004, when I was your age, people were calling me the next world-class English player. One day, you're untouchable. The next, they're calling you a disappointment because you didn't score a hat-trick."

Tristan listened intently. Rooney had lived through this. He'd been England's golden boy before—the media hype, the pressure, the scrutiny.

"The key?" Rooney continued. "You've gotta block out the noise. Good or bad. I know it's hard to do that. But don't let praise make you cocky, and don't let criticism get to you. Just keep doing what you're doing."

Tristan nodded. "Yeah. I hear you."

"Good." Rooney patted his shoulder before heading back to his seat.

Vardy gave Tristan a knowing look. "He's right, you know."

"Yeah," Tristan muttered. "I know."

He put his phone away, this time for good.

....

6069 word count, not counting this end section

So I was going through the previous Chapters and I noticed a trend of people liking comments saying Barbara is used or they would have liked a different girl with no relationships before. I am so baffled by those comments and people liking them.

This has nothing do with the story but people saying that, are you guys actually okay? You guys went outside? Talked to people? Let me know I can make a Therapy channel in discord for that. They are options that can help you.

Cause no way thats how some of you folks think. The chances of you getting with someone with no relationship experience is low as fuck. And that's fine, that's normal, that's life. Relationships don't work out, things happen.

I had relationships that didn't work out for multiple reasons and that okay, I learnt from it and continued on with my life. That doesn't I'm used or something, what kind of logic is that.

I can bet my $30.89 in my bank account , your mom and dad had mutiple different exs and that's fine. It's just life.

Please get some help, I'm begging you.