Chapitre 17: FA Cup: Crystal Palace vs. Derby County
The air at Selhurst Park buzzed with anticipation as fans packed the stadium, their chants reverberating off the stands. The FA Cup Round 3 tie between Crystal Palace and Derby County was moments away, and the tension was palpable.
Roy Hodgson's Crystal Palace had lined up with a strong starting eleven, a clear statement of intent. Wayne Hennessey stood in goal, steady and composed. The back four consisted of Martin Kelly at right-back, Gary Cahill and Cheikhou Kouyaté as the center-backs, and Jairo Riedewald on the left. In midfield, the captain Luka Milivojević anchored alongside James McCarthy and max Meyer, while Connor Wickham led the attack, flanked by Jordan Ayew on the left and Brandon Pierrick on the right.
On the other side, Wayne Rooney—player-coach for Derby County—had surprised everyone by fielding a completely different lineup from their last league match. Between the posts stood Kelle Roos, wearing number 21. The backline consisted of Jayden Bogle at right-back, Curtis Davies and Craig Forsyth as the center-backs, and Scott Malone on the left. In midfield, Tom Huddlestone partnered Wayne Rooney himself, while the young prodigy, David Jones, started on the right wing, with Tom Lawrence on the left and Louie Sibley playing just behind Chris Martin, the lone striker.
The commentators' voices hummed over the broadcast.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Selhurst Park," the lead commentator began, his voice crackling with excitement. "It's Crystal Palace versus Derby County, and we've got quite the story to unfold here. Roy Hodgson has named a full-strength lineup—Premier League quality through and through—but all eyes are on Derby County today."
His co-commentator chimed in, "Yes, indeed. Wayne Rooney's made wholesale changes to his squad, but the big headline here is young David Jones starting once again. He's wearing number 30 today—the same teenager who scored that stunning winner in their last league game. Oh, hold on… we're just getting word…"
There was a pause.
"Yes!" the co-commentator said, his voice rising. "Today is his birthday. He's officially 16 years old, the youngest player ever to start in an FA Cup match. What a moment for the lad!"
"Incredible," the lead commentator agreed. "He's already made history, and the game hasn't even kicked off yet."
In the away section, Derby fans roared in full voice, waving black-and-white scarves. Among them was Trevor, a gruff superfan surrounded by his mates, who had come along more for the experience than the result.
"The kid's starting again," Trevor muttered, shaking his head as he adjusted his scarf.
His friend grinned. "Thought you liked him, Trev?"
Trevor snorted. "Just one lucky goal, mate. That ain't gonna make me like him."
"Lucky goal?" his mate said, rolling his eyes. "Are you serious? Mate, did you even see that strike? The lad's got talent."
Trevor shrugged, unconvinced. "Whatever. One goal doesn't make a player. Let's see if he can do it against a proper team like Palace."
The chants around them grew louder, drowning out any further arguments. Trevor fell silent, his eyes fixed on the pitch.
In a modest living room in Southampton, David's father, Isaac, settled into his favorite armchair. He cracked open a beer and leaned back, a grin plastered on his face as the pre-match analysis flashed on the TV.
"Honey!" Isaac called out. "The match is starting! Come watch!"
Tabitha, David's mother, appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on her apron. "It's only three o'clock," she said, frowning slightly. "Are you sure closing the shop this early was a good idea?"
"It's fine, it's fine," Isaac replied, waving her off. "We can lose a day of business. Our boy's on TV!"
Tabitha smiled, the frown disappearing. "Alright, alright. I just hope he's not too nervous."
"Nervous?" Isaac scoffed. "Have you met your son?."
She settled into the seat beside him as the broadcast cut to the players lining up on the pitch.
David Jones stood in the tunnel, his gaze straight ahead. Around him, the roar of the crowd built like a wave ready to crash over the stadium. Crystal Palace players shuffled beside him, tall and imposing in their red and blue kits.
Luka Milivojević, Palace's captain, stood nearby. He glanced over at David, a smirk playing on his lips.
"No wonder," Milivojević muttered. "A small team like Derby using a kid. Guess they don't have the resources for actual players."
David's jaw tightened, but he didn't look over. Instead, he let the words burn like fuel inside him. Calmly, he replied, "A kid, right? I'm going to show you what a kid can really do."
Milivojević raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. The referee blew his whistle, calling the players onto the pitch.
As David stepped onto the grass, the stadium erupted. The chants and jeers merged into a single wall of sound, vibrating in his chest. He looked up at the stands, where Derby's away fans sang louder, trying to make themselves heard.
"Here we go," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists.
Across the field, Luka Milivojević stared him down. The referee glanced at both teams, then raised his whistle to his lips.
The piercing sound rang out.
"And we are underway!"
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