LOST ON YOU

38

The Euros are in full swing, and we've topped our group after beating Serbia and Denmark. The matches were challenging but manageable. I played the full ninety minutes against Denmark and came in during the second half of the Serbia game.

Now, we're moving into the quarterfinals against Belgium. While we have a strong squad, we can't afford to underestimate them.

If we make it to the semifinals, my entire family will be there, along with Leah and her family. It's a huge motivation to ensure we secure that spot. Dad's already arranged a countryside homestead for everyone, creating a little bubble where both our families can stay together. It's comforting to know they'll all be there, supporting us.

As we prepare for the quarterfinal match, the anticipation is high. We gather for a team meeting to discuss strategies and analyse Belgium's strengths and weaknesses. The atmosphere is a mix of focused intensity and nervous excitement.

Later, at training, the camaraderie among the players is palpable. Everyone is pushing themselves, knowing how much this means—not just for our careers but for our families and fans back home.

After training, I call Leah. "How's everyone back there?" I ask, eager for news.

"Everyone's excited and a bit nervous. We've been following every game closely," she says. "Mom's even made an England flag cake for good luck."

I laugh. "That's adorable. Tell her I appreciate the support. I can't wait to see you all in the stands."

"We'll be there, cheering you on," Leah assures me. "Just do your best and stay focused. You've got this."

As game day approaches, the pressure mounts, but knowing Leah and our families will be watching gives me an extra boost of determination. We head out to the pitch, ready to give it our all and secure our place in the semifinals.

As we lined up in the tunnel, the anticipation was almost unbearable. The roar of the crowd filtered through, a cacophony of excitement and hope. This was it—the quarterfinals against Belgium. Every match had led us to this point, and the weight of expectation hung in the air.

Walking onto the pitch, I took a deep breath, trying to absorb the energy from the fans. The stadium was a sea of white and red, England flags waving fervently.

The whistle blew, and the game was on. We started aggressively, pressing high and pushing Belgium back into their half. Our midfield was controlling the game, making crisp passes and creating early chances. The first real opportunity came in the 10th minute when I found myself on the end of a cross from Jude. I managed a header, but it went just wide of the post.

Belgium was strong, though. Their counterattacks were swift and dangerous. Our defense had to stay alert, especially against their striker, who was constantly looking for gaps. Around the 25th minute, they had a close call, a shot from the edge of the box that our keeper just managed to tip over the bar.

Then, in the 37th minute, it happened. We won a corner, and as the ball swung in, I made a run to the near post. The delivery was perfect, and I rose above the defenders to nod it into the net. The stadium erupted. I could barely hear myself think as my teammates piled on top of me in celebration. 1-0 to England.

The rest of the first half was a battle. Belgium pushed hard for an equalizer, but we held our ground. When the halftime whistle blew, we headed back to the locker room, exhausted but motivated.