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World Cup 67 - RP Thread

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Polar Islandstates
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Founded: Jan 17, 2011
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Polar Islandstates » Thu Jan 23, 2014 7:16 am

Image


Well.

Wow.

By the skin of our teeth, we've broken Euran hearts and sent the defending champions home. On penalties. Yeah, penalties. There but for the grace of Thor go we, right? We've got a terrible record from the spot, just like the Eurans have a fantastic one. I have no idea what happened for our roles to switch in that shoot-out just now, but whatever it was I am so, so, grateful.

Thank you, stars, for aligning. Or something.

Anyway, the match started with the startling news that Euran squad captain and Northbrook Diamonds rock Tom Riley would only be starting from the bench. I still don't know what happened, whether he was injured or had a falling out with the coaches or... well, whatever it was, I suppose the initial assumption was that his absence would be a blessing for the Terns. As it turns out, I'm not so sure that it was a blessing at all. I wouldn't say his absence was a blessing to the Eurans either, mind, let's just say that with Riley in the side their midfield would have been considerably less mobile than it turned out to be. Of course, with Villeneuve playing in a more advanced role than usual, Kirvesniemi and Einarsson behind him, and Lillehammer closing out the midfield, we ourselves had a much more mobile midfield than the last time we played them in the World Cup final, and I actually think it was our own agility and fleet of foot in the centre of the park that proved to be the edge in normal time, rather than their own absence of Riley.

The match started explosively with shots on target for both Oslograd and Saarinen within five minutes of the kickoff, but as the first few over-eager minutes faded away so did the rashness, and the first quarter of the match was a fairly cagey affair, with neither team willing to give up too much space behind them when in possession. Jean-Eric Villeneuve revelled in his advanced role, and showed Zeljeznicar how to do it when he played a quick one-two with Saarinen before pulling the ball back for Kolehmainen to take a swing at it. The ball cannoned back off the crossbar with almost as much force as it'd been hit in the first place, and with none of the Terns committing too far forwards, the Eurans were able to mop up nice and calmly.

Thus the first half passed, almost without major incident, as both teams got plenty of men behind the ball. Lillehammer did what he'd done twice during the league and kept Oslograd busy out of the hair of the central defenders, with Einarsson and Kirvesniemi mopping up and feeding the ball forwards to the front three. The match was tense without being nailbiting, with the atmosphere delicately balancing on the knife edge rather than being cut with one, as neither set of fans were able to out-sing the other or rouse their side into something special that would just send them beyond the capabilities of the opposition.

We had to wait until the fortieth minute for the only gilt-edged chance of the half, and when it came it was unusually as a result of a physical imbalance. Eurans are known for the stamina and athleticism, something that we Valhallans usually have the opposition quite comfortably beaten at, and so it was something of a surprise to see Bjerregaard open up the afterburners and skin Mickey Smith for nearly entire Euran half. He'd stumbled after initially being turned, but the Jan Mayen defender wasn't even close by the time Bjerregaard finally drilled the cross along the edge of the six yard box, and that was instantly picked on on the Terns' coaching staff. Fortunately for Smith, the ball eluded Kolehmainen's outstretched boot by a matter of centimetres, and the teams would later go in at half time with the score still at nil-nil.

The second half start in much the same way as the first had ended, with momentum and possession switching back and forth without any real hurry to it, as if both sides had been given instructions not to mess things up and to keep it tight. The partnership of Blackthorn and Spartan in the Euran midfield was starting to grab a hold on the game with a grim determination plastered all over their their faces, but when the game exploded into life at last, it would be in the favour of the Terns.

Lillehammer collected the ball from Lucic, turned, and went to dummy a pass to Einarsson but kept running. He then dummied a pass to Kirvesnimi and then kept on running, and was about to dummy a pass to Saarinen or Villeneuve when Spartan evidently decided he'd had enough of the defensive midfielder's tricks, and he swept him off his feet with a not particular dangerous. Certainly no attempt was made to hurt the player, but there was very little effort to play the ball either. Unfortunately for those involved, it looked a whole lot worse than it actually was, and the players of both sides were soon angrily surrounding the referee - who, to their credit, decided not to throw any cards around on the basis of that event alone.

Tails were up on both sides now though, and with the crowd noise levels getting just that bit higher once again, it was beginning to feel like it was only a matter of time until the first goal went in for either side. As it happens, it went our way. A long shot from Einarsson was expertly blocked and charged down by Robertson on the edge of the box, but as he struggled to regain his balance following the shot, Kolehmainen was able to turn on the spot, nick the ball away as he ran into the box, and let fly with all of his body weigh behind it. The ball hurtled satisfactorily into the top corner before Waller could react, and the Terns were one-nil up. Oh, happy day.

A lead in a World Cup Semi-Final is a hard thing to keep a hold of however, and didn't the Eurans know it. Within minutes of the goal going in, the Eurans were set amongst us, harrying the ball and chasing down every tackle. We still haven't finished celebrating the goal in the stands when we were shut up by a Blackthorn shot that almost snuck in at the far post beyond Kirilaunen. A real hearts in mouths moment as it deflected off Lucic's knee and wrong-footed the Surtsey keeper, and we all had to sit and watch it bounce past the post. Unpleasant, to say the least. But it wasn't the last of the threats - Ashtree and Spartan both drew saves from Kirilaunen, with the keeper being forced to palm away a stinging header from Oslograd as well. The pressure was notching up.

It was easy to fold our arms and sulk when we lost the final to Eura last cycle, easy to stick our bottom lip out and say it should have been us. And this is true, to some extent. Had we played to the best of our ability, we probably could have won, but the fact of the matter is the best team on the night won the match and won the World Cup, and only the fact we had suffered the same fate in the previous final as well was giving us this sense of entitlement. In this respect, it's easy to feel sorry for Eura and the way some fans have acted like we owe them one. The truth is of course that we do owe them one, but for not them. For us. Eura are a good side, and this sense that they fluked their way to the World Cup final is a damaging lie that paints our own performances in an unnecessarily flattering light.

Hence, when Eura did get the equaliser that their play had deserved, I wasn't as surprised as the fans sitting around me.

A pass from Blackthorn wrongfooted Lillehammer, and Oslograd ran between Lucic and Nordenberg to stick out a leg and stab the ball past Kirilaunen - the ball just being too quick for his dropping frame. It had been coming.

With ten minutes left, both managers made changes as it looked like extra time was fast approaching. Most notable amongst them, Riley coming on for Eura, and Cornelius replacing Einarsson. As the game slowed down and the legs inevitably got tired, it was Rasmussen's idea that a less mobile 'quarterback' style player with fresh legs would be able to have more impact than a box to box player like Einarsson - particularly with Kirvesniemi still on the pitch. Also significant was Vaaraniemi replacing Lillehammer. The Aasiaat midfielder had picked up a slight knock in the second half, and rather than have him running on it for any length of time, Kungas-Vaga was moved to defensive midfield, and Vaaraniemi brought on to provide a fresh pair of very fast legs on the left hand flank.

Those fresh legs did manage to cause problems for Feeney in the reamaining minutes of normal time, but the pull backs for Saarinen and Villeneuve in turn were not as accurate as they could have been, and the chances bobbled away. Kolehmainen also found time for a snapshot under pressure from Riley on the edge of the box but despite hitting a divotit was well saved by Waller, and the referee blew the whistle for the end of the match.

For the second time in two cups, Eura and Polar Islandstates were not to be separated in normal time. It had been a battle royale. Two of the Multiverse' in form teams playing at the top of their game against each other. It had ebbed, it had flowed, it had delighted and enthralled us all. A match that live up to it's billing and then some, unlike the last two Terns matches.

Extra time beckoned, and the Twitchers in the stands held their breath and muttered. Everyone was thinking the same thing - 'this was where it all went wrong in the final'. We'd gone in level, and then conceded twice in a tight period of extra time to let the Eurans pick up the cup at the end of the evening. Well, not this time. It wasn't clear from up in the stands what was being said to the players, but Pekarik and Rasmussen were as animated as I've ever seen them on the touchlines. There was plenty of clapping from Kungas-Vaga, and plenty of pointing to the stands. They looked pumped, and so it proved when extra time started. There was a tenacity and a fire to the game of the Terns, and for a while it looked like Eura were unable to cope with the onslaught. Kolehmainen, Saarinen, Villeneuve, Kungas-Vaga; all had shots or goalscoring opportunities that trouble the goalkeeper, and with Smith increasingly unable to deal with Bjerregaard's pace down our right hand side, we should really have got one in the back of the net with all of the crosses we were getting in the box.

This possession not going unnoticed, Rasmussen made his last change, swapping one veteran striker for another as Saarinen made way for Illich-Svitych, who almost immediately evade the attentions of the flagging Robertson in the box and headed just over from six yards. Head in hands, the Terns returned to the touchline for the turnaround believing that they could score.

They went out in the second half of extra time with the same fire as they'd finished the first, but were almost immediately given a scare when the uncharacteristically quiet Ashtree forced a good save from Kirilaunen. The game was tense, and each side were increasingly nervous in possession. Riley changed the balance of the game, slowing things down in possession and punching through the middle of the pitch when required. His fresh legs reminded us of the Euran stamina that we had largely been unable to break down once again as they matched us physically on the pitch. The game rapidly shifted into one similar to that which was played earlier in the match, and it because clear that with the creative players on the pitch strangling the life out of the the game, it was only headed in one direction.

Penalties.

The Eurans never lose shoot-outs.

We never win them. You have to go as far as World Cup 56 to find the last competitive penalty shoot-out that we were victorious in. Since then we've found the chances to lose to Astograth on them twice. Astograth. Twice. That's how far back this run stretched. So needless to say, we up in the stands weren't confident. I felt ill. I felt the bile rising in the back of my throat. I couldn't sit down and look away but nor could I stand up and watch. It was terrifying. I'm normally a glass half full kind of guy, but at that point, I was sure that Eura were going to beat us again.

And yet, we won.

We did it.

I'm still not entirely sure how or when or why or who. The whole thing passed in glorious blur of blue and white and green under the night sky. Or was it darkness? I'm not sure. I can't be certain how much I watched myself and how much I caught on the replays on the big screens after hiding my faces for the shots themselves.

All I know is that we did what was asked of us.

Up first was Robertson. He skied it. I don't think I have ever taken quite so much pleasure from watching a football go flying through the air as I have that one. Whether the Euran body language was shot or something else, I don't know, but it gave us a great start.

Gustaf Kolehmainen. Slotted it into the top corner nice and neatly, as he had been doing all season for Surtsey.

Skorji Oslograd. Sent Kirilaunen the wrong way, tucked into the bottom corner.

Aapo Nordenberg. Saved by Waller. A poor penalty. Back to even pegging again.

Riley. I couldn't watch. Scored. Emphatically so, coupled with some crowd baiting as well, apparently, casuing a great roar.

Bjerregaard. Young Bjerregaard. My head was in my hands. He only went and bloody chipped it over the line. Such astonihsing confidence for a young man.

Two-two after three penalties each.

Ashtree. The noise and the jeers from the Twitchers was deafening and got yet louder still as the Euran striker's penalty was saved by Kirilaunen, stabbing a hand out to the bottom corner as he guessed the right way. Advantage to the Terns.

Jean-Eric Villeneuve. Right in the corner. Never in any doubt.

Spartan, to keep Eura in it. Smashed it. Great penalty.

Kohev Kungas-Vaga then. It was all on him. All on the captain. And if you thought Spartan had hit it hard? Bloody hell, he nearly broke the net! When in doubt, attempt to smash the keeper's teeth in. The team mobbed him, and up in the stands we mobbed anyone not already being mobbed.

The Terns were through to the Semi-Final, and I lost my voice in all the shouting, misplaced my watch, and apparently bought drinks for half the city if my wallet and headache this morning are to be believed. What a match. What a night. What a team. Wight denied us revenge, Eura were much more obliging. All we need now is the title, and we'll call it square. Yeah?

Yeah.

I was going to produce for you that little chart of nations now, but as I'm pretty pushed for time on the computers here at the hotel, I'm going to have to give that to you before the final/third place playoff (delete as appropriate). Instead, we'll press straight on and get to the point with a little look at our next opponents.

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Valladares

For a fellow Rushmori footballing powerhouse, Valladares and ourselve have relatively little history. Only three times have we met on the field, and only two of those were in competitive games. However, the names of teams like Fontvielle Impact, Olympique de Fontvielle, Eterna Stars, AS Bezieres, Metropolis Alligators et al are all synonymous with great football wherever you bring the topic up in the Federation, just as our teams will be well known and respected over there. We hope.

Two great leagues. Two great teams. But who will progress to the final?

Well, taking nothing for granted, history, form, and rank would all suggest ourselves, but that's not to say any of that sentence won't come without a hell of a lot of hardwork out there on the pitch at Diamond Park. Les Gones once had a rank that felt distinctly underwhelming, but in recent years they've begun to perform as well as any other nation out there, and their new advanced rank is no less than they deserve. They aren't semi finallists by accident, they'll be a mean opponent, even if we have gotten the better of them in both competitive meetings so far.

Some of our best players have featured for Valladar clubs in the past, Timo Skye and Alexandr van Sorensen, for example, and two of our squad currently ply their trade in Fontvielle as well; Kirvesniemi and Bosnjakovic for Impact and Olympique respectively. In return, SK Franz Josef CIty have been the club of Valladares' main attacking threat for the past four years, with defenders up and down the Federation wincing at the mere thought of trying to contain the enigmatic Pedrinho.

But containing Pedrinho is just what messrs Nordenberg and Lucic will be tasked with in this semi-final. Pedrinho and Rozenthal, more than anyone else, will be the threats to which we should pay the most attention, and that in itself won't be easy as the formation they like to play with makes use of fluid locations and no strict rows of four like we might be used to eeing in the Federation. They will aim to find the space between the player, and we'll have to get our guys fit and rested from the Euran epic if we're going to be at full fitness to face our next challenge.

And therein lies the answer, basically. Keep fit. Track them down. Deny them space, and utilise our own stamina and blunt brute force to prise an opening through their defence when we can. The game sounds so simple when you break it down like that, doesn't it? If only it really were. We've been in the Semi-Finals twice before, now, and we've won half of them. This is Valladares' first Semi-Final appearance, and they are going to be fighting just as hard as we will be to reach the Final. I don't know about you, I'm going to be approaching this one warily.

Prepare for the fight of your life.

As for the other tie, pft. Thor knows. I've been getting the AO half of this tournament wrong all cycle. Might as well jsut give up. Don't know who I'd prefer to face in either a final or a third place playoff anyway. Though, the idea that one bloke with a blog represents "The Polaria Press" is rather flattering...

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.

Two more matches.

Per Tenebras ad Lucem

Eff out.

xx
The True Valhallan Federation of Polar Islandstates - Pop. 51,500,000
Capital: Franz Josef City - Demonym: Valhallan (Polarian) - Trigramme: PIS
sportnyheter.vu - Ides of March Cup
Champions: WC67, CR XIX, CR XVIII, CR XV, CR X, CR VIII, DBC56, DBC20, RLWC11, RLWC10 Runners-Up: WC66, WC65, CR VI, DBC29, DBC55, WCoH18
Third: WC70, WC68, WC57, CR XII, DBC27 Fourth: WC56, CR XXII, RLWC13, RLWC9, WCoH17
“Aut Pax Aut Bellum” - A formerly closed nation that definitely isn't fascist now. The strongest and one true constituent member of The Valhallan Union
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Audioslavia
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Postby Audioslavia » Thu Jan 23, 2014 7:40 am

A Perfect Storm

There's a phrase in professional boxing: 'Styles make fights'. A brawler and a technical boxer will make a much better match than, say, two counter-punchers. The Bulls and La Vherderoja strike a stylistic balance, but as we saw last night, the weight is ever-so-slightly in the Audioslavians' favour


The aftermath of Valanora's victory of Vilita in the fourth semi-final highlighted, instructively, the difference between Audioslavia's semi-final opponents and their defeated quarter-final opposition. The section of the press-conference focused on the Marauders/Bulls showdown was punctuated by talk of the Vanorans desire to win the midfield battle over the Bulls, cut off supply lines to the forwards, control important sections of the field and, in all, quell Audioslavia's strengths in favour of showcasing the positives of Valanora's game. Vamariiel Falavir's words drew a technical blueprint of exactly how to deal with Audioslavian football.

Compare and contrast to Farfadillis' gameplan yesterday evening.

To continue the boxing metaphor, the Farves are brawlers, ducking and weaving and charging through their opponents offence, swinging for the jaw and torso, espousing a 'kill of be killed' mentality missing, at least in such broad strokes, from the game of the Audioslavians.

The Audioslavians, by contrast, are counter-punchers, and the 'Kontrapuntzonaketa' game is one Audioslavia have made into their own, as synonymous with Audioslavian football as Karela was with Rejistania.

The stylistic match makes for games that are entertaining for the fans, tiring for both parties and, so far in all four Farf/Slavia matches, end in victories for the Bulls.

This Farfadillis team was always going to be stronger than the ones which capitulated 4-0, 5-2 and 3-2 in past AOCAF Cups. Powell Pieran had said as much in the pre-match interview, going on to suggest that possibly, individually, the men in bright red were better footballers, to a man, than their counterparts in claret and green.

Farfadillis went some way to proving Pieran's point by taking the game to Audioslavia from the off, scoring through Dandalleion on twelve minutes as Audioslavia's attempts at quelling the fast-starting Farves failed. La Vherderoja would go close to making it 2-0 on twenty minutes, ths time via a low shot from Ichi Tuzzio, but the outstretched arm of goalkeeper Imaslavii was enough to deny the playmaker, and also set up Audioslavia's first counter-attack of the afternoon. It took, in all, eighteen seconds for the ball to go from being saved to being put in the Farfadillis net. A long, cross-field ball by Tal looked to be intercepted by a back-tracking Faro, but the defender misjudged the flight of the ball and only succeeded in helping it on its way down the wing, and into the path of a flying Paco Robles. The winger got to the ball on the corner of the eighteen yard box, ahead of a frantic Erfaon Lisdiren who had hared out of his goal to nip the attack in the bud. Robles touched the ball past the goalie, stopped, looked up, saw Hudson-Blake cantering into the penalty area and laid off a square pass for the striker to finish into an empty net, with no Farf within ten feet of him.

Farfadillis would continue to dominate posession and continue their devil-may-care style of play, but another counterpunch goal on thirty-five minutes hinted that La Vherderoja's style of play might just be playing into the hands of the Audioslavians. Another counter-attack, a one-touch passing triangle on the edge of the Farf penalty area, taking advantage of the 4-on-3 situation on the counter, resulted in a second goal for Hudson Blake. The Farves in the crowd began to get a sinking feeling - one that can only have gotten more profound five minutes later as Txai Zubiri, one of three Audioslavians who plied their trade in Farfadillis, converted a through-ball with a drilled near-post shot to make the score 3-1.

Farfadillis would begin the second half as they had the first, maintaining their ethos of all-out-attack, taking the game to the Audioslavians, but the supposed 'comeback' goal - a glancing near-post header by Tenian that expertly diverted a powerful Fox into the far corner of the goal - would be cancelled out immediately by Audioslavia's fourth - the third counter-attack of the game. Hudson-Blake would again be involved, this time playing the stonewall in attack, receiving a long, largely aimless ball on the edge of the penalty area, shielding it from the attentions of Faro and Mata, waiting for support to arrive, laying off a square pass for Robles, who passed to Zubiri, who passed to Zerubeltzak, and after a low finish Audioslavia were 4-2 up and looking to shut up shop.

Off came Hudson-Blake, off came Zekani, on went a defensive midfielder and a defender and, despite a seventy-seventh minute Farfadillis goal that forced some desperate defending in the closing stages, Audioslavia were largely comfortable in holding onto their lead against an increasingly tiring and desperate Farfadillis attack.

The result makes it four wins out of four for Audioslavia against Farfadillis, and one suspects Farf football represents a 'perfect storm' for Audioslavia. All-out-attack versus counter-attack. Takil versus Kontrapuntzonaketa. If Farfadillis want to beat Audioslavia in the future, they may need to create a specialised gameplan for showdowns with the two-time champions.

One for the Sadists

Oddly, for two nations without so much as a whimper of animosity between one another, Audioslavia and Valanora's battles on the football field have been excersises in ritual, borderline sadistic humiliation of one another.


A glance at the footballing record books reveals a tell-tale fact about the Bulls and the Marauders, the two combatants in what's been dubbed the 'Unofficial AOCAF Cup Final' - otherwise known as the second semi-final of World Cup 67.

Audioslavia's worst defeat in their entire history is a 5-0 shellacking by Valanora.

Valanora's worst defeat in their entire history is a similarly one-sided 4-0 battering by Audioslavia.

Valanora's initiation to the international football stage was very much a baptism of fire (the team, then known as 'Elves Security Forces', had missed out on partaking in the tournament of the same name). The side, unranked, with zero experience, were pencilled in to travel to Audioslavia in their first ever fixture - the opening day of qualifying for World Cup 29. The 4-2 scoreline suggests the Marauders put up a fight in that first encounter, but the return leg saw the Bulls run roughshod over Valanora in their own stadium, running up a 4-0 scoreline and condemning the fledling Valanorans to the bottom half of a tough group.

The Audioslavians would go on to the final of that world cup and would bow out of the international stage after a final loss to Casari, instead embarking on a long and bloody civil war to vent their frustrations at missing out on yet another World Cup trophy. The Bulls would not be back until World Cup 37, and by this time the nature of the game had changed. Audioslavia, with a rag-tag team of amateurs, found themselves back at the bottom of the pile, with the Elven Marauders of Valanora only a few years away from their induction into the hall of fame, and a few years more away from dominating the sport altogether.

The two sides were lumped together in their qualifying group, and Audioslavia's initiation to the 'new' world of international football would be very much in the same vein as their baptism of the elves. Valanora ran out 5-0 winners in a lop-sided home encounter, before comfortably putting the Bulls to bed with a 2-0 win in the return. Humiliated, Audioslavia's football federation pulled the squad out of qualifiers for World Cup 38, and would not return to the international scene until much, much later.

By the time of Audioslavia and Valanora's next (and most recent) meeting, the world had changed again. Audioslavia had returned from the dead, picked up the Baptism of Fire trophy, twice conquered Atlantian Oceania by winning the AOCAF Cup and had shocked the world by winning the World Cup - finally - from a world ranking of 51, and all within five cycles of their return.

Valanora had, during Audioslavia's wilderness years, won the World Cup on four seperate occasions and, with a fifth victory in World Cup 61, could lay claim to being the most successful football side in the history of the game.

They had, however, somehow, never managed to win their own regional tournament despite their period of dominance over the wider world. AOCAF 39, at the end of the sixty-third cycle, was due to be their best chance of reconciling that odd gap in their trophy cabinet.

The tournament was played in Valanora and the Marauders, recent World Champions, were expected to use home advantage to march to victory in the tournament. March they did, and arrived at the tournament final in late June, to be held at the famous Battleground stadium in the heart of Raynor City. Standing between them and the title were Audioslavia, then reigning World and regional champions, a fitting opponent for Valanora's battle to claim what should have been theirs a long time ago.

There, in front of their own fans, the Vanorans were soundly and resoundly beaten. The score? 4-2. A very public reminder of their very first failure as a football team.

Audioslavia, then, lead the series between the two teams by three games to two, but if ever there was a chance for Valanora to gain a measure of revenge it's now. The semi-finals of major international tournaments are usually a happy hunting ground for the men from north-east AO - the Bulls boast a 13-2 record in the final-four. The Audioslavians were once proud of a perfect semi-final record in the World Cup, but a sickening home defeat to the Polarians four years ago broke that previously perfect record, and victory in this semi-final would not only go half way to avenging that loss - the other half being a possible final against those very same Polarians. Could Audioslavia take another failure at the final-four stage? Possibly, but they would not like it one bit.

For Valanora, underdogs if only slightly, another defeat to Audioslavia would be, well, more annoying than anything, but the side - long-time rivals with fellow five-time cup winners Starblaydia - are desperate to add a sixth World Cup trophy to completely, officially, mark them as out-and-out the greatest of all teams in the history of the tournament.

While a narrow win for either team wouldn't quite match those levels of humilation seen in previous encounters, a measure of sadism could be deferred until the World Cup final, should Polar Islandstates keep their cool and overcome Valladares in the first semi-final. The Polarians have reached the final of the last two World Cups and have left empty handed both times, and the pressure to win a third successive final would be immense.

A Polarian/Vanoran final would echo the narrative of the World Cup 63 encounter between Starblaydia - five time champions - and Audioslavia - famous 'nearly men' of the tournament. Audioslavia, on that occasion, managed to overcome their demons, and a failure of the Polarians to do just that may well be a hammer blow the side would never recover from.

Should the Polarians and Audioslavians progress, a Valhallan defeat would be equally humiliating - a loss to the team to which they and their failures are most compared.

The Other Guys

Valladares's march to the semi-finals has been a quiet one, but the men from Rushmore have more than earned their place in the penultimate stage of the tournament.


While the reigning champions, tournament favourites and sentient beans were busy knocking lumps out of one another, Valladares were quietly pencilling in two-nothing wins over Equestrian States and Archregimancy to arrive at the semis at little more than a canter. The side, ranked ninth in the world, overcame minor early hiccups to qualify for the tournament comfortably, and broke down the much-fancied Bloumanis and Astrograthians on the way to topping their group.

The top news stories may well be Valanora and Audioslavia's war of attrition, and the question of whether Polar Islandstates have the temperament and willpower to take that final step, but the Valladar will be going into their maiden semi-final with confidence that they have as good a chance as any of winning the tournament outright.

EDITOR'S NOTE:
Since the latter section of this article was posted, Polar Islandstates soundly defeated the Valladar, progressing to the final for the third time in a row. We replace our editorial on how good Valladares are with the following graphic:

Image
Last edited by Audioslavia on Thu Jan 23, 2014 1:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Valladares
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Authoritarian Democracy

Postby Valladares » Thu Jan 23, 2014 7:47 am

To: dcampbell@vfa.vd
From: mtrent@vfa.vd
Subject: Congratulations

Cerro, District of Metropolis, January 23, 2014


Esteemed Dimitri,

On behalf of the Valladar Football Association and the whole Valladar people, let me congratulate you on reaching the semifinals of the 67th World Cup, currently played in Cassadaigua and Equestrian States. As you may already be aware of, this performance shown by the National Team breaks every record set by the squad before this World Cup edition and exceeds even our own expectations, so we at the VFA are extremely pleased with the enormous progress shown by the Team under your helm.

What we saw during the quarterfinal match against The Archregimancy confirmed to us that we committed no mistake in keeping you as National Team manager after failing to qualify to World Cup 65, even though we were facing a huge negative backlash from the media and fans. The only thing we needed was to try and consolidate a squad and a style of play. And now, the goals from Manuel Santos and Pedrinho against The Archregimancy and the excellent performances shown by other important players in the defensive line such as Luis Fuentes, Jérôme Perrin, and Ricardinho during that match and the others we have played there in Equestrian States proved us right and sent us through to a stage where no Valladar team have ever been before in a World Cup. Once again, congratulations on achieving that.

On a closing note, we will be discussing the terms of your contract extension as soon as you and the rest of the national team arrive in Metropolis, i.e. at the end of the World Cup. For the time being, focus on doing your best in our last two games, especially against Polar Islandstates. They are the best team of the multiverse nowadays and they are as hungry for glory as we are, so please make us proud regardless of the final outcome of both games. As far as we are concerned, our mission has been accomplished, but it would be really nice to bring a medal (or the World Cup trophy itself, who knows?) back home.

Best regards and best of luck,

Sir Marcus Trent,
VFA Chairman
THE UNITED KINGDOM OF VALLADARES
Map of Valladares | Valladares on NSwiki | Valladares Embassy Program
Champions: I Coupe Pomme D'Or, Copa Rushmori 26, Copa Rushmori 29, Di Bradini Cup 48
Runners-Up: World Cup 75, Cup of Harmony 49, Copa Rushmori 25, Copa Rushmori 27, IBC 10
Third Place: Copa Rushmori 18, Volleyball World Expo 9
Fourth Place: World Cup 67, Copa Rushmori 32, IBC 8, IBC 9, IBC 12
<Zwangzug> And the Alligators already have a Ph.D. at making enemies: <- oh, man, speaking of making expressions up, this is fantastic :D

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Polar Islandstates
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Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Polar Islandstates » Thu Jan 23, 2014 9:58 am

The full time whistle blew, and he'd seen enough. The spectres and the dark shades that had flooded his vision had tormented his mind for the entire ninety minutes, just waiting for the chance to tell him things weren't going to be okay. The full time whistle was that cue.

This was where it had all gone wrong, last time. They'd conceded, he'd gotten injured, they'd been forced to play on without any more substitutions available, and they'd conceded again. They'd lost the World Cup final, last time. And as his synaesthesia so liked to remind him, the presence of its sensual memory was never more than a heartbeat away. Cladden with dark images and deep colours, the memories weren't great and the muscle memory even less so. Pain still shot through his legs at the thought of that extra time period with Eura, and he couldn't face another one.

No, he had to get out. He could feel his breath running shallower in his lungs. Alexsandr van Sorensen made a break for the exit.

Baffled faces on sentient technicolour animals pointed him towards the exits. They didn't understand why a Polarian would be leaving the stadium with the match as finely poised as this, but their hooves opened the way for him nonetheless. Unsure at first whether their vivid hues were as a result of his synaesthesia or just their natural shade, he decided to get some air by the river.

It took him fifteen minutes of the first half of extra time to get down to the bottom of the stadium, and the next fifteen to chart a path in the darkness to the riverbanks, lit only by the residual light of the floodnights bouncing back off the night sky.

He sat down. He'd heard no cheers. That meant penalties. Unable to help himself, he began thinking about the players on the pitch and their penalty styles. Would they win? Standing up, he realised he was stull holding one of the stones from the riverbank. INstinctively, he skimmed it across the still surface of the river; multicoloured ripples and sin waves reverberated around the air with each skim.

From the sound in the stadium behind him, he could hear noise at the Euran end. That meant they were starting. He closed his eyes and continued to skim stones.

First one? Robertson, probably. Prone to overhitting. He skimmed a stone. The noise behind him told him he was right.

Kolehmainen next, ALexsandr could see it so clearly. Top corner, everytime. A starburst of ripples in the water ahead of him accompanied the cheers from behind him.

The next Euran kick hit its mark. Meaning Nordenberg would be next up. Young, less experience. Alexsandr considered the chances, and flicked a stone out from his wrist. He predicted a save. The noise told him he was right again.

The next Euran kick also hit home.

Bjerregaard next, he thought, time for some showboating, probably. The next stone left his hands, and the next cheer reached his ears.

Nerves would be hitting home now, he was sure, and the next Euran missed. The chance was on. A shower of coloured sparks radiated out from the steady skimming stones ahead of him.

Villeneuve was bound to score, he thought, and so he was proved right.

The next Euran had it all to do, and did it. Leaving it all up to Kungas-Vaga.

Alexsandr paused, mid throw. What on earth would Kohev actually do? He searched his mind and found no calculations there. No history. No precedent. Nothing. And then suddenly, it occurred to him. Rather than skimming the last stone, he threw it as far as he could.

Right down the middle.

The stadium behind him erupted with noise. And was that fireworks in the sky? Or the dawn of a weight being lifted from shoulders. Alexsandr didn't care which. He just smiled and walked home.
Last edited by Polar Islandstates on Thu Jan 23, 2014 9:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
The True Valhallan Federation of Polar Islandstates - Pop. 51,500,000
Capital: Franz Josef City - Demonym: Valhallan (Polarian) - Trigramme: PIS
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Champions: WC67, CR XIX, CR XVIII, CR XV, CR X, CR VIII, DBC56, DBC20, RLWC11, RLWC10 Runners-Up: WC66, WC65, CR VI, DBC29, DBC55, WCoH18
Third: WC70, WC68, WC57, CR XII, DBC27 Fourth: WC56, CR XXII, RLWC13, RLWC9, WCoH17
“Aut Pax Aut Bellum” - A formerly closed nation that definitely isn't fascist now. The strongest and one true constituent member of The Valhallan Union
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Cassadaigua
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Postby Cassadaigua » Thu Jan 23, 2014 10:07 am

It's time.

It's time to play the semifinal and advance the winning nation to Concord Heights, for the chance to realize their dream of being a World Cup Champion. For Polar Islandstates, reaching the championship is more of an expectation, and should they advance, they will seek to finally bring the World Cup to northern Rushmore. For Valladares, this can be their signature moment, a chance to show the world that they are more then just a team that can get into the early knockout rounds before fading away, but can win a championship themselves.

Who's going to Concord Heights? The players are lined up. Let's get it started.

Who won? Click here. But you probably already checked the results thread, didnt you?
Last edited by Cassadaigua on Thu Jan 23, 2014 10:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
NS Sports’ only World Cup, World Bowl, World Cup of Hockey, World Baseball Classic and International Basketball Championships winner!

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Specific Titles: World Cup 50, 51; WBC 14, 16, 19, 50 & 58; WB 8, 22, & 40; WCOH 11 & 39; IBC 13.
Also: CR 40 & 43; CoH 39; Swamp Soccer 4, RTC WC 18 & 19; WVE 6; NSCAA 3, 5 & 9; NSSCRA 7
Runner Up: CoH 40, CR 37, 38 & 41; WB 21, WcoH 8, IBC 12, WBC 13, 15, 47 & 48, DBC 21.
WC Qualified for: 45, 46, 49-61, 67, 79 (DNP WC 69-77), 81-90, 92.
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Hosted: WC 54, 67, 84 & 88; CoH 57 & 73, BoF 47, CR 30, WB 16, WBC 18, 26, 40, 45 & 50, NSCAA, NSCH 1; WLC 7, 30 & 33.

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Equestrian States
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Postby Equestrian States » Thu Jan 23, 2014 8:03 pm

Chop-chop-chop! Cutoff!
83rd World Cup Champions
58th & 59th AOCAF Cup Champions
5x World Cup, 2x Cup of Harmony, 1x Baptism of Fire, 2x World Cup of Hockey, 3x World Baseball Classic, 1x World Bowl, 2x International Basketball Championship Host

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Valanora
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Postby Valanora » Thu Jan 23, 2014 8:38 pm

Valanora Times
So Close Yet So Far Away


It was was a stalemate, the tactics that the Marauders had employed were perfect, and the players performed all up to their abilities. Yet it was not enough, not enough mental focus when the match came down to spot kicks. The mental fortitude that had brought the side together since the opening draw to Farfadillis collapsed under the pressure of knowing just five kicks separated them and the chance for the record breaking title. To their credit, the Bulls of Audioslavia managed to hold their own and were not daunted by the immense mental pressure that comes along with a penalty shootout, converting all of their shots to send them forth to take on the Polarians in the Final.

Officially, the match will go down as a draw between the two sides, in their sixth meeting, and one that unlike the previous five, can not be construed as any sort of defining humiliating moment in their history. The Marauders were always going to be up against it when Audioslavia was their opponent, even more so if they had advanced to the Final to take on the Polarians, despite the Rushmori's penchant for failure at the final stretch. These are both teams who are great with great players and with flaws few and far between. Even pointing out where the side could be able to take advantage of the few flaws in Bulls and then putting on the performance to exploit them had only resulted in a draw.

Yet perhaps it is for the best, Valanora title runs have not come straight from the blue of a wild run, they have been built up over time, as the side as a whole has grown with experience and maturity. An odd thing given the nature of the squad, having centuries of experience behind them as footballers already, yet the international game often brings with it new challenges and stress. It brings a whole new world to these players who have only ever seen what football is like from a Vanorian perspective, at how the Vanorian game shapes and develop things. So while the hunger for the sixth title might have been ever present in this side, this was never their World Cup to win.

It is the next World Cup that the sights now have to be on for a title, yet the job is not yet finished here in Cassadaigua. There is still the matter of the third place playoff to consider, a fixture in which the Marauders have historically taken seriously, having only lost two of the previous ten trips to the consolation match. Waiting for them are one set of Rushmori giants in Valladares, a side whose domestic league has eclipsed the Vanorian one and who now looks to eclipse them in the international game as well. Their players are battle hardened and up to the task of being as dangerous if not more so than the Audioslavia side was. They did just give the Polarians a run for their money in the other semifinal, which is proof enough of the quality of their side. Now it is a battle not for some trophy or medal, but for pride and the building block for the next cycle, for the regional tournament coming up next month, and for the challenge of taking on worthy opposition in the grandest of scales.
World Cup 40, 42, 43, 52, & 61 Champions
WC 47, 51, 94 (2nd), WC 34, 38, 39, 41, 44, 45, 53, 60, 67, 92 (3rd), WC 49, 58, 87, 90 (Semifinalist), WC 33, 35-37, 46, 48, 54, 55, 62, 63, 65, 72, 83, 85, 86, 88, 91 (Quarterfinalist)
WCoH VII, VIII, XVII, XXVIII, XXX, XXXII (1st), WCoH I, XXXI, XL (2nd), WCoH II, XXIX (3rd), WCoH XII (4th)
AOCAF 44, 46, 51, 53, 65, 68 Champions, AOCAF 39, 43, 55, 59, 64 Runners Up
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Audioslavia
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Postby Audioslavia » Fri Jan 24, 2014 5:51 pm

Lucky Bulls Vanquish Vanorans
It was supposed to be a transitional period, but Audioslavia are in the final again. Just like World Cup 63, however, they will struggle to convince most that they are worthy finalists, especially after this semi-final performance against Valanora.


The Vanorans will be the first to agree that this isn't quite truely vintage Valanora football team. The midfield may be more or less unchanged from the one that won World Cup 61 on home soil, but defensive retirements and the loss of Aerataur's services up front have weakened the side, and though they may yet prove themselves with a sixth World Cup victory, this incarnation of the Marauders were never meant to dominate world football like the elves of old.

Not that you'd have noticed from the game last night.

The pre-game dialogue mentioned that all five previous encounters between the two sides ended in the humilation of one or the other, and one would be forgiven for thinking the same was about to happen as, from the off, the Vanorans followed through on their threats to choke Audioslavia's game. Valanora's cautious, incisive approach play was anathema to Audioslavia's style, who prefer opponents to launch themselves at them and catch them on the break. The game was played in midfield, with Valanora looking to create angles and exploit a defensive line being pushed and pulled over the park by constant switches of pace and flank and frequent exploring runs from the strikers.

Laborious Hawk's cute turn-and-shot on seven minutes almost opened the scoring for Valanora, and perhaps Fresco should have found the opening goal with a back post volley that he could only drill into the ground and over the bar when, from eight yards away, and with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight and with it the knowledge that Imaslavii was in the middle of an almost loss of footing, it may literally have been easier to score, but Valanora did open the scoring on twenty-two minutes with a finish by Soldarian, freeing himself of his marker, arriving late into the penalty area and sweeping a deflected clearance into the bottom corner.

Hawk's diving header on twenty-eight minutes could have made it 2-0, va Drake's curling effort would have if not for a sprawling Imaslavii save, and Gwaval pretty much did make it two-nil with a crisp finish from a perfectly-weighted Hawk through-ball, only for the linesman to erroneously flag for an offside that wasn't there.

In short, Valanora were bossing the game, and while the Audioslavians were resolute in defence, they seemed utterly unable to move the ball forward quickly enough when they finally did get chances to counter. Time and time again, a Vanoran or two would be there, in the right position, to close the ball down or track a dangerous runner, and all too often Audioslavia's attacks would be snuffed out as quickly as they'd started.

Quite how Hudson-Blake managed to equalise on forty-four minutes is still a mystery.

It was literally Audioslavia's first shot on target, and even the first time they'd truly managed to pass their way around the Vanoran midfield. A short pass to Zekani was flicked away to Robles, with the idea that the young winger would play it straight back. Robles, instead, went for a holywood ball to the other wing that scuffed horribly. The ball faded harmlessly onto the head of Tinueme, who headed it clear. Falaval was waiting underneath, but put too much power into his supposed control with his chest and allowed the ball to bounce clear. Hudson Blake darted onto it, reached it before the midfielder, yet bizarrely opted for a sliding, off-balance shot at goal from thirty yards. The ball looped and spun, careened over the head of a despairing Nororon, taken utterly by surprise by the Audioslavian's bizarre decision-making, and dropped into the top corner.

Fans all over Audioslavia celebrated what they believe to be the greatest goal of all time. Everyone else saw it for what it was. A freak. A fluke. Replays of Hudson-Blake's face gave it away. He seemed somewhere between bemused and ashamed of himself.

The goal rocked Valanora's confidence right before the break, and the second half began with the sides stalemating each other in midfield. Valanora's three-elf defence held strong, easily containing the marauding runs of Zekani and Hudson-Blake, while Audioslavia's four-man defence - usually explanding to become at least a five-or-six man defence at certain points, what with Courier's harrying defensive play and Zerubeltzak's desire to get stuck in - managed to keep out the dangerous Valanora front three.

The full-time whistle would come and go, as would extra-time. The players, showing the signs of fatigue that a long tournament - and a long match - will cause, had seemed resigned to a penalty shoot-out for an hour.

The shoot-out is, of course, the great equaliser for teams big on heart but who have been ritually outplayed during the game. Audioslavia, perhaps knowing that they could well have been beaten 3 or 4-1, relished their opportunity to settle the draw on the spot.

Hudson-Blake for Audioslavia, Fresco for Valanora.
Van Wildernis for Audioslavia, Hawk for Valanora.
Tal for Audioslavia, a miss by va Drake.
Zerubeltzak for Audioslavia, a save by Imaslavii from Gwaval's effort, and that was that.

Audioslavia were fortunate in winning their first world cup. If they win against Polar Islandstates on Saturday, they'll have been fortunate again.

Dagan Downpour expected for Cup Final?
After nearly a month of glorious Cassadaguan sunshine, torrential rain threatens the marquee event


Powell Pieran has enough on his plate in preparing Audioslavia for their biggest game of the decade, but the erstwhile Citiz may have to factor the wrath of the gods into his tactical equation.

The forecast is for rain, and lots of it. We're not talking your seasonal summer shower, here, we're talking a thunderstorm hanging directly over Concord Heights, where a month's rainfall is forecast to fall in the space of just a few hours.

There is no question of the game being postponed. Not with the expectation of television advertisers and audiences. The game will go on. How the pitch, and the teams, cope with the downpour is yet to be seen. Will the Polarians be better suited to the wet weather? Almost certainly, but enough Audioslavian players play in awkward climates to go some way to counterbalancing that advantage.

The Stars Align
Audioslavia will claim to have just as big a chance of taking the World Cup home as their opponents, but one thing the Polarians have on their side is narrative, and lots of it


The Bulls have been in this position before. A World Cup final - another World Cup final - after having had a number of very public failings on the biggest stage of all. The men in claret and green found themselves up against Vilita in the World Cup 20 final, with the world begging them to finally 'get it over with' at the third time of asking. They would lose, and would lose again in the World Cup 29 in a last ditch attempt at 'righting' a 'wrong' before the nation faded into civil war. That albatross would finally be torn from the Audioslavian neck in World Cup 63 - over a century later - in a memorable and symbolic game against a Starblaydia side that had developed a knack for winning, not losing, finals.

Audioslavia's successful defence of their shock triumph put those allegations of their being weak-willed or jinxed firmly to bed. The side are now 2-4 in world finals (6-7 in major finals overall) which, while a negative ratio, is still a fair and reasonable turn-around for a side that has, at times, been dominant in world football.

That albatross around Audioslavia neck was lost, forever as far as we're concerned. What we hadn't realised was that we'd simply moved it, and onto a team who, bizarrely enough, have what appears to be a picture of an albatross near the neck of their shirts.

They should really sort that out.

Either way, the narrative of this final is simple. Polar Islandstates went to the final of World Cup 65 and lost. They went to the final of World Cup 66 and lost. They'd previously been in and around the quarter-finals and semi-finals the tournament without being able to make that final leap. Now, they're in the final once again, for the third time in succession, and standing before them is the team that, whether they or we like it or not, they have been compared to over the course of this barren, World Cup-less spell.

Audioslavia had lost every one of the finals they had played when their opposition was merely 'quite a good team' that they had no previous 'beef' with. It took a grudge match against local rivals Starblaydia for the Bulls to gather enough momentum to force them kicking and screaming over the finish line. Polar Islandstates had no real history with either Wight or Eura, but have quite the history when it comes to the Bulls - the last two mathes have been World Cup semi-finals and quarter-finals, and the side have played out two memorable home and away clashes in qualifying tournaments - and have the odd personal niggle as well.

Soon after World Cup 66 had finished, the Audioslavian media published a photoshopped picture of a lady in a bridesmaid's dress in the colours of the Polarian football team, in the guise of a fake advert for a new Polar Islandstates kit, commemorating another 'Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride' cycle.

That the media did this in retaliation to a Polarian-made image that showed a tern standing on the dry skull of a bull, in what appeared to be an Audioslavian stadium, made no difference to the Polarians. It was too soon. Audioslavia were rubbing salt in a very fresh wound, and a recent photoshop proclaiming the Audioslavia-Valanora semi-final as 'the de-facto world cup final', proclaiming the winner to go on to walk over Polar Islandstates in the final, can't have helped either.

One suspects that thrashing the Bulls in a World Cup final would satisfy any need for revenge the Polarians have.

Bulls/Terns: The History
Audioslavia have a shaky record against the Polarians - 1-1-4 in six games - but there is reason to be confident.


"Welcome to the Modern Era"
0-2, 1-1, World Cup 60 Qualifying


Audioslavia's first foray into international football after a century in the wilderness had been wildly successful, with a Baptism of Fire championship and an appearance in their maiden AOCAF Cup, but their first attempts in the biggest tournament of them all were largely forgettable. Audioslavia fought their way to second-bottom in their World Cup 59 campaign, and found themselves struggling to keep afloat in their World Cup 60 group - this despite having been crowned champions of Atlantian Oceania shortly before qualifying began.
The first half of the qualifying campaign was punctuated by an almost effortless 2-0 win for the Polarians over Audioslavia. The Bulls struggled on to a mid-table finish, but would record a 1-1 draw at home to a Tern side that had had little trouble in topping the group.

As Polar Islandstates went to the World Cup and Audioslavia attempted to make some headway in the Cup of Harmony, neither could have foreseen the epic trilogy that awaited them, eight years on.

"The 'Screw of the Terns' Trilogy"
1-2, 2-4, World Cup 63 Qualifying. 1-0, World Cup 63 Quarter-final


Audioslavia and Polar Islandstates played one another once a year in 2164, 2165 and 2166.

Polar Islandstates had maintained their position as a permanent fixture of the latter stages of the World Cup, while Audioslavia had endured a humiliating qualifying run for World Cup 62 and had tried three managers in the preceding four years. The new boss, Israel Klimt, had been tasked with merely stabilising the team. Klimt, instead, blooded a number of youngsters and, in two games with Polar Islandstates in World Cup 63 qualifying, those young guns were utterly outclassed, out-played and out-thought by their opponents. The 2-1 and 4-2 scorelines could, and perhaps should, have been larger. The young side were, however, picking up wins against the rest of the group, and by the time the autumn of 2165 rolled round the side had, at long last, qualified for another World Cup.

Two draws, a fortuitous win over Bears Armed, and an extra-time victory over Taeshan catapulted the side - ranked 53rd at the start of qualifying - into a quarter-final tie with a Polarian outfit they'd never before beaten, and with most of the same side that had capitulated twice to the Terns in qualifying.

On that fateful Aguazulian evening, in a match dubbed 'the screw of the terns' by a very clever man, Audioslavia rode their luck, kept the Polarians at bay and, in a frantic last ten minutes, netted the only goal of the game to shock the world and send Polar Islandstates packing. It was not supposed to happen. Neither was what happened just a fortnight later - Audioslavia's winning of the World Cup. Some Polarians to this day will say, after having had a few beers, that it should have been them in the final, taking it to Starblaydia. On merit, they're probably right.


"The Cold Serving"
0-1, World Cup 66 Semi-finals


By the time World Cup 66 rolled around, Audioslavia had added another World Cup and AOCAF Cup to their belt, making their trophy haul two World Cups and 3 regional cups altogether. Polar Islandstates had added a deserved third Rushmori title and could have - and maybe should have - beaten Wight to the World Cup trophy in cycle 65. Cycle 66 saw the two sides lock horns in the semi-final. This time, for the first time, Audioslavia were the favorites.

World Cup 66 was held in Audioslavia and The Inevitable Syndicate - two nations who's combined league kicked off in earnest last year - and Audioslavia had played most of their matches in a brand spanking new national stadium in front of 90,000 baying home fans. The carnival-like atmosphere of the cities of Cathair, Ferramendiak, Hasiera and the like had made for a rollicking tournament so far and, despite the fact that the Polarians came into that semi-final higher ranked, the world expected Audioslavia's good home form to continue, and make it to a memorable home final against Eura.

What the world got instead, however, was a dry, efficient, very Polarian performance by the supposed underdogs. Polar Islandstates pressed, harried and shouldered their way into a 1-0 win that, as any Audioslavian will tell you, hurt like hell. It was a measure of revenge for that famous upset in Cycle 63, and should have set the scene for Polar Islandstates to crush all their demons by defeating region-mates Eura in the final.

Their failure set up this encounter with the Bulls.

---

And so there you have it. The narrative all laid out for you. Audioslavia are hell bent on revenge for Polar Islandstates winning a game four years ago which was revenge for Audioslavia winning eight years previously which heralded the start of Audioslavia's golden age which stopped them being seen as 'nearly-men' and passed an albatross onto Polar Islandstates who... who...

You know what? Here's another way of looking at it.

It's the World Cup final. The two best teams in the world are battling to see which of them is better.

Image

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Equestrian States
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Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Equestrian States » Fri Jan 24, 2014 8:04 pm

Who will be taking home the bronze medal?

Cutoff for the 3rd Place Playoff.

Result
Last edited by Equestrian States on Fri Jan 24, 2014 8:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
83rd World Cup Champions
58th & 59th AOCAF Cup Champions
5x World Cup, 2x Cup of Harmony, 1x Baptism of Fire, 2x World Cup of Hockey, 3x World Baseball Classic, 1x World Bowl, 2x International Basketball Championship Host

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Polar Islandstates
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Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Polar Islandstates » Sat Jan 25, 2014 6:56 am

"For the love of Thor, Marten, how much further?"

"Just a bit further, come on. Keep paddling, all I'm getting at the moment is static."

"I don't see why we have to do this at all. I'm cold."

"Yeah, well, so am I. But the electricity's gone because someone forgot to order more gas from HQ, and so here we are. Keep paddling."

"But I don't even like football, why do I have to come too?"

"Because they said to never be alone, in case something happens. At least until the next supply drop when we get our third man back again. Come on, Samson! Keep paddling!"

"But Marten, there's only so much paddling I can do at this time of the evening. Can't we just go back inside?"

"No. You forgot to order more gas. I want to watch the semi final, but I can't. At the very least, you can help me listen to it. Now come on, you remember what the General said; the best reception is at the centre of the lagoon."

"But it's freezing! What if one of us falls in?"

"Well then you can swim back. It's neck deep, maximum, and it can't be much further than 200 metres. You had to swim five times that at induction. And in freezing water, too. Stop being a wuss and come on. You're lucky I let you use the kayaks. If it were up to me we'd have been in the canoe."

"Yeah. I hate that thing. It's so unstable. Much prefer these kayaks. So much safer."

"Well then, show your gratitude and come with me. We're nearly there."

The two figures struck out with their paddles once more and let themselves drift into the centre of the lagoon. At the very far north-eastern fringes of Northbrook lay one of the most remote locations in the Federation; the Bara Horizonten seismic research station. The volcanic hotspot that had created the Northbrook Reef was dying, slowly growing more and more dormant as time passed, but in it's last hurrah, it was busy heating up a little patch of ocean floor and creating little tremors. Stationed at the very north-eastern tip of the reef, hundreds of kilometres from the nearest inhabitable island, the Bara Horizonten station was perched on a little outcrop of rock on the edge of a small lagoon. Created by the previous stop on the hotspot's journey, it had pushed enough rock up to the surface of the sea to support a small weather and seismic station, complete with a maintained helipad and a constant staff of three. There was enough residual heat left in the outcrop to heat the lagoon to a relatively balmy five degrees above freezing, preventing it from ever freezing over and creating a surreal patch of turquoise blue ice in a shallow pool, surrounded by the rocky reef that prevented the wandering ice from harming the station. A little ring of hot rocks protecting a little wooden shack, complete with a pool of tropical looking water. It was a strange place.

Cold, windswept, lonely, and remote, it was a commission for only the hardiest of souls. If an emergency should befall, help wasn't always just around the corner, and when their colleague Frank Becker had broken his leg badly falling down the reef, Marten Kruse and Samson Nilsson had had to wait for two days before a helicopter could arrive. It had been a week since the third man had left, and without the mediator, opinions were starting to clash.

"Have you found it yet?"

[KSSSSSSSSSSSZZZZZHHHHHHHKKK]

"What do you think, Samson?" asking Marten as he fiddled around with his tiny personal radio, floating gently on his kayak as the wind blew them gently around in circles.

"Okay, okay, just asking. I don't know what you're looking for do I?"

"It's a man talking about football. How is that so difficult to discern from the piercing roll of static?"

"Hey, that's difficult! I don't know, I can barely make out what they're saying on the station radio half the time. Hey! Why don't y-"

"I'm not asking the base for updates on the football over the station radio, you twerp."

"But it's the only thing still working."

"Your fault." snapped Marten without looking up from the radio

"It's cold out here." sulked Samson.

"Again, your fault."

"I'm bored."

"Well, Samson," said Marten, finally looking up, "you knew what you were getting into when you signed up for Bala Horizonten, so just do me a favour and shut up now, yeah? It's your fault you forgot to order gas. They could have brought it when they came to collect Frank otherwise, couldn't they? As a direct result of your negligence, the power cut out with precisely ten minutes left in the biggest football match the Terns have played since I've been away. I-"

"You said that about the last one, too."

"Yes, Samson, that's generally how knock-out tournaments work."

"Whatever. Is it working yet?"

"I don't know, are we in the middle yet?"

Samson looked around. "More or less, I guess?"

"Let's give it another go, then."

[KSSSSSSSSSSSZZZZZHHHHH-KH-it goes back to Nordenberg. The Terns just holding on slightly in this last five minute period as both sides search for a winner...]

"It's working! It's working!" shouted Marten excitedly, clasping the tiny black radio up to his ear. "Wait, both sides? Shit they equalised."

"Who did?"

"Valladares."

"Which player, Marten."

"I don't know, I only just turned it on and got it working, didn't I?" said Marten, trying to concentrate, "And anyway, why do you care?"

"Just trying to make conversation," shrugged Samson, before putting his paddle down on the top of his kayak, folding his hands behind his head, and leaning back to look up at the night sky. "Nice night, tonight."

"Shut up! I'm trying to listen!"

[...with both teams pressing hard now with the extra attackers on the pitch. Bosetti now. Pedretti. To Reyes. Pedrinho comes in short. Gignac makes a run for it but the pass it cut out by Nordenberg. That's good defending there, learning from his mistake. That would have been a carbon copy of the equaliser but now it's the Terns who have the ball with Holzhauser. To Kirvesniemi. Zeljeznicar, who has played much better today. Villeneuve. To Kolehmainen, beats his man, Wolff inside of him but Kolehmainen goes himself and that's a poor shot. He's trying too hard, almost, to atone for that gilt-edged chance he missed when the score was still one-nil. So it's a goal kick for Valladares, just three minutes left now, and a-]

"I'm cold."

"I told you," hissed Marten, "you should have put your long johns on before we went out."

"We should have heated kayaks."

"There's no such thing as heated kayaks."

"Well there should be," said Samson irritably, "I bet the Franz Josef Survey have them."

"Yes, well, if they exist, and the Franz Josef Survey has them, it's important to remember that the bottom line of the Franz Josef Survey's balance sheet is uniquely balanced by all the big saving they make on expeditions, what with having no active sites to visit. What would they ever need kayaks for, Samson?"

"I don't know. Keeping warm whilst psychopathic co-workers drag them out into the middle of a freezing lagoon in the middle of the night to listen to a sodding football match, perhaps?"

"Oh, shut up." said Marten, turning up the radio.

[-orner on the left hand side for Valladares. The momentum swinging wildly back and forth at the moment. It's whipped in, but that's easily claimed by Kirilaunen, far too close to the goalkeeper. Rolls it out. Bosnjakovic now, trying to launch a counter attack. Gets it back from Villeneuve, flicks it past Santos, his Olympique clubmate, of course. This is good play from Bosnjakovic here, he crosses it to Wolff but its just too far ahead and the chance is lost. Rasmussen is going spare on the touchline, asking them to keep the ball down on the ground in future and I can't blame him. That cross has ended up going out for a throw in right in the corner, and after such a promising run as well. Valladares have the throw-in now, and they go back to the keeper. Not long left now here in-]

"And anyway," said Marten, "it's not freezing, it's a hot spring."

"It is not a fucking hot spring!" laughed Samson, "it's what, five degrees in that pool?"

"Well, it's volcanic, anyway. And it's not freezing. So shut up."

"Hot spring my arse. It's cold."

"You're a rubbish Valhallan, you. I told you to wrap up warm, anyway."

"Well I didn't know we were going to go out, did I?" said Samson back, before undoing a complex zip on the top of his splashguard and reaching into the kayak, pulling out a little brown bag."

"What's that?" asked Marten.

"Going to start a fire," said Samson, undoing the bag, "keep myself warm."

"A fire?! Are you out of your mind? You can't start a fire on a kayak!"

"Sure I can," said Samson, "I came prepared, look. Kindling, little bits of firewood. Firelighter, matches. And most importantly of all, a heat proof tray from the lab to put it all on."

"You what?" said Marten, looking at his colleague in disbelief, "you didn't have time to put on long johns but you did have enough time to go into the lab to get a heat proof mat?"

"Tray. And yes, actually."

"You're insane. Don't start that fire. This is such a stupid idea."

"It'll be fine, look," said Samson, already having built the start of a decent looking fire, "I'm great with fire. I was in the Bear Corps as a kid."

"So was my dad," said Marten sceptically, "didn't stop him ruining every single family barbeque we had as a kid..."

[-ust one minute left in injury time and we are surely headed for extra time and the threat of penalties again aren't we? The Terns' hopes will be high of a win if there is won, having finally won a shoot-out in the last round against Eura, but it must be something of a headscratcher for Rasmussen to know that his team will have failed to win in normal time since the second match of the group stage. That cutting edge just doesn't seem to be there now van Sorensen has retired from the sport. But here's Wolff now, all on his own, waiting for support and he's going to get it with Bosnjakovic and Kungas-Vaga hurtling down the left hand side towards him. Lays it off perfectly into the path of the captain whose pull back is good. Bosnjakovic. Villeneuve. Kolehmainen. Kolehmainen. Still Kolehmainen. Oh and that's a fantastic save from Fuentes from Kolehmainen. that save could have kept Les Gones in the World Cup. Surely it would be too late to score a second equaliser now if the Terns did score. Into added time on added time and the Terns have a corner. Moses Luc Bjerregaard trots over to ta-]

"There." said Samson triumphantly as the flames flickered and shone, giving the area around them a gentle orange glow that contrasted with the faint turquoise the moonlight was reflecting back at them from the surface of the lagoon.

"Very good. Now be careful," said Marten, unimpressed, though he did have to concede the orange flames did look kind of impressive when they bounced off the silken surfaces of the mini-bergs that had got as far as the reef's edge and then gotten stuck, surrounding them at a distance like some shadowy blue stone circle, "all you've done is balance a fire on a plastic kayak. This is so stupid."

"Yeah, but, I've got a heated kayak." said Samson smugly.

"Kayak's aren't meant to be heated! It's made of sodding plastic!"

"I've got it under control, look!" said Samson, pointing. The little fire was flickering away on the tray, which was placed delicately on the top of top of the kayak, as if it were on his lap.

"Yeah, and what if it spreads?"

"Well then we're surrounded by water, aren't we? Anyway, stop complaining. You've got your football, and I'll stop complaining about it being cold, now."

Marten muttered something under his breath, but went back to the radio for the final moments...

[-and Kirilaunen is coming up as well for this third corner. The referee has indicated that this will be the last action of the match, so Lucic and Nordenberg are up as well. Only Holzhauser remains outside the box for the Terns. Lucic and Edwards tussling at the front post and the referee tells them to sort it out. Lucic picked a great time to score his first goal for the Terns in the first half, wouldn't it be a great time for him to score his second now? Bjerregaard, whips in the corner it's a good one but it's punched clear by Fuentes under a challenge from Kolehmainen. Is that it? No! Falls out to Bosnjakovic on the other side, he's free, he whips the cross back in from the other side and Wolff goes for the spectacular, WOLFF-- off the crossbar!! But it's fallen back out to Bjerregaard on the other side, nobody picked him up after the corner- Bjerragaard-- IT'S GONE IN! THE BALL HAS GONE STRAIGHT THROUGH THE RUCK OF PLAYERS AND THERE'S PANDAEMONIUM ON THE TERNS BENCH AS HE RUNS TOWARDS THEM! Two-one to the Terns! Two-one and no time even for the restart! Bjerregaard has done it! Young Moses Luc Bjerregaard has driven that ball across the packed penalty area and it has evaded everyone! Everyone! Defenders didn't want to stick it into their own goal, attackers didn't want to send it over the bar as it bobbled, and the keeper didn't see it. It's snuck past everyone, and MOses Luc Bjerregaard has fired the Terns to their third consecutive final! The stands are alive now as we see the repla-]

"YEASSSSSS!" cheered Marten, wildly rocking his kayak in celebration, "Yeaaaaahahahahaaa, go 'ead, Moses!"

"Hey, can you stop that?" asked Samson to Marten as the waves from his kayak rocked Samson's. His requests fell on deaf ears however, as Marten continued to rock his kayak.

"GET IN THERE! THE TERNS ARE GOING TO THE FINAAALLL!" shouted Marten, rocking yet further.

"Uh, Marten..." said Samson as the heat proof tray began to shift alarmingly on his rocking kayak.

"RAS! RAS! RASMUSSEN! RAS! RAS! RASMUSSEN!" chanted Marten in celebration, creating yet more waves as he began to splash in his euphoria.

"Marten!" shouted Samson, "No! Stop it!"

But all Samson could do was watch in terror as the tray began to slide off into the lagoon. Slapping out a hand instinctively to try and stop it's fall, Samson succeeded only in flipping his balanced paddle into the tray from the other side, knocking the flaming strips of wood onto his splashguard, where the flames began to spread and melt through the rubber almost immediately.

"Oh, shiiiit!" yelled Samson, attempting to splash water onto his lap.

"Bloody hell man, roll!" shouted Marten, suddenly aware of the situation.

"Aargh, put it out!"

"Roll!"

"Help me, Marten!" yelled Samson, flapping at the water in panic as he looked down at the flames that were about to melt through the splashguard.

"ROLL, YOU DUMB FUCK!" shouted Marten again, before taking matter into his own hands and slapping his paddle into the side of Samson's shoulder. Samson's kayak rolled, with Samson in it, extinguishing the flames, but placing Samson upside down in a lagoon.

Silence momentarily reigned.

There was a splash as Samson reached the surface, having pulled his guard and escaping from the kayak, which was now drifting away in the confusion. He spluttered, gasped for air, gasped again at how cold it was despite the residual volcanic heat, and stretched out with his feet for the bottom of the shallow lagoon. Reaching it, he stood up and brushed the water from his eyes. The water came up to his shoulders.

"I suppose you think that's funny," he said to Marten, shivering.

"I did warn you it was a bad idea," replied Marten, trying not to laugh.

"Oh shut up. It's cold."

"So you've mentioned."

"Give me a lift back to the station," said Samson, swimming around to the back of Marten's kayak and holding on to the fabric hook that was there, "your match has finished now anyway."

"Aye, and you better hope for your sake that the gas arrives before the final," said Marten, starting to paddle back towards their hut, "otherwise you'll be back out there with me in a couple of days."

"Oh, great," shivered Samson, wet through and miserable.

"Still," said Marten, in a good mood from the football result and not yet willing to let Samson's suffering end just yet. "it did prove me right."

"What did?" asked Samson from behind him, clearly not in the mood for fun.

"Well, it's just as I'd been saying, isn't it?"

"What is.

"I warned you."

"About what?"

"You can't have your kayak and heat it!"
The True Valhallan Federation of Polar Islandstates - Pop. 51,500,000
Capital: Franz Josef City - Demonym: Valhallan (Polarian) - Trigramme: PIS
sportnyheter.vu - Ides of March Cup
Champions: WC67, CR XIX, CR XVIII, CR XV, CR X, CR VIII, DBC56, DBC20, RLWC11, RLWC10 Runners-Up: WC66, WC65, CR VI, DBC29, DBC55, WCoH18
Third: WC70, WC68, WC57, CR XII, DBC27 Fourth: WC56, CR XXII, RLWC13, RLWC9, WCoH17
“Aut Pax Aut Bellum” - A formerly closed nation that definitely isn't fascist now. The strongest and one true constituent member of The Valhallan Union
He/Him/His

User avatar
Polar Islandstates
Senator
 
Posts: 3550
Founded: Jan 17, 2011
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Polar Islandstates » Sat Jan 25, 2014 9:55 am

Image


Wahooo! We did it! Or rather, Moses Luc Bjerregaard's cross that turned into a shot actually did it, with the moment the goal went in prompting wild scenes of celebration up and down the nation, followed quickly by wild thoughts of "oh shit we're in the final again what if we lose again what if we lose again I don't think I could take it if we lose again aaargh help."

Wahooo?

Perhaps things will be different this time.

But anyway, before we go onto that, here's a look at this. A promise is a promise, so...
Image

What, you were expecting flags? From me?
As you can see, there have been plenty of Terns who've represented us from our nearby Rushmori neighbours, with the fact that Astograth and Iturributa come in at first and fifth absolutely no surprise whatsoever. Mytannion and the slightly surprising Civil Citizenry share second spot with seven Terns call-ups each, with Erathore, Valladares, and Cotdelapoms all coming in the table above the first nation from outside of Rushmore, Cafundeu, who so famously turned van Sorense from a striker to a devastating midfielder, and cultured Ackermann-Finn in the ways of keeping the ball on the ground every now and then.

Valanora comes next, with half of those four in the current squad at the moment, though it may surprise many to see Saugeais with only two themselves, the same as Zarbli, with both of the Zarblese call-ups being Jorgen Hauge - first from Cross SC and then from Battle.

Krytenia's only call-up to the Terns was a significant one, with Lars Hegg Gammel who played for Avidia United occupying the number one jersey for the Terns for a long time. Other countries to have seen only one Polarian playing there called up include Taeshan, Queer Poco el blah blah blah do you even care? I'm serious. We're about to play Audioslavia in the World Cup final and I'm here wittering on about stats like this? Who cares, man, give the table above a quick look over and then let's turn our attentions to more important things. Like the World Cup, for instance.

The World Cup.

Audioslavia.

Final.

Image
Audioslavia

Audioslavia. It would have to be Audioslavia wouldn't it? Number one plays number two in the Multiverse for football's greatest prize; precisely the mouth-watering fixture the event-organisers would have been hoping to see in the final when the tournament began. But it goes deeper than that, doesn't it? Oh yes.

Audioslavia lost four finals before winning their first. They beat us in the quarter finals on the way to their first title - their only win over us - and retired Jorgen Hauge in the process. We beat them in the semi-finals of their own tournament last time around and then conspired to lose the final for the second time against Eura. Their former top scorer plays for SK Franz Josef City. Their captain plays for FC Axel Heiburg. They know us. We know them.

In some ways, they're trapped. Trapped playing the bad guys in a scenario they know all too well. In fact, if there were any nation likely to sympathise with our history in World Cup finals, it is the Audioslavians. And yet it is they who find themselves tasked with the job of extending our misery.

Perhaps things will be different this time. The Terns have appeared invincible in the two previous runs to the final they made, coming off the back of unbeaten qualifying campaigns and winning every single match in the finals themselves on the way to losing in the final and in the final alone. Well, this time, the Terns appear fallible. We've shown our vulnerabilities. Apox took us to extra time. Equestrian States held us to a goalless draw in the group stage. Eura forced us to resort to becoming capable of a penalty shoot-out win if we wanted to get past them. In only half of our games at the finals have we been able to beat the opposition in normal time. And that is only counting the finals, duing qualifying we lost to The Sylvanaes Queendom, we drew with Northern Sunrise Islands. Hell, we lost at home to The Weegies. The Weegies. Were it not for our progression, you could argue the point that this has been far from a vintage campaign from the Terns. And yet, for all these insecurities, for all these faults, for all these flaws, they've looked good. They've played good football. They've not looked terrified of losing the ball or conceding a goal, particularly in the finals, and this fluency and fearlessness had led to a more relaxed playing style. If Rasmussen and Pekarik can keep them calm and playing like they have done, then I wouldn't worry too much about going a goal down early on, because we've got self-belief this time, and we appear to be comfortable in our own skin.

Perhaps things will be different this time. Three finals in a row is something only three other nations have managed before. Only Aguazul won all three.

Perhaps things will be different this time. This Audioslavian team is supposedly in a transition. They've got a manager from a country that doesn't exist anymore, and are supposedly changing things around. Nonetheless they find themselves at number two in the Multiverse and into another World Cup final. We can hardly claim that they'll be an easy ride given the fact our own squad is in transition and we've not been at our best ourselves either, but we have a chance. They've only ever beaten us once, and that was when the stakes were high. Right now, the stakes are even higher, and they'll be out for revenge after we prevented them from getting to the final of their own tournament. They'll come out fighting, and perhaps this first final against a team that it will mean something against will spur us on to better things. Perhaps.

Perhaps things will be different this time. Perhaps we won't crumble. Perhaps we'll stay tight all match. Perhaps we won't have periods where the nerves get to us. Perhaps we won't choke.

Perhaps things will be different this time. Perhaps we've finally found the right balance between using our best players and not relying on them like we have done in the past. Our squad is looking sharp. There's competition for places, genuine competition for just about every position on that pitch, and we still don't know what eleven Rasmussen is going to send out there for the final. That's a good thing, right?

Perhaps things will be different this time. Perhaps we'll see the boys in navy and white lift the cup.

Perhaps things will be different this time. Perhaps they won't. Perhaps we will go down in history as being the first team in the World Cup to ever lose three consecutive finals.

We couldn't, could we?

Well, we probably could, really. But we also might not. Let's find out, I suppose. Come on now, don't be like that. We'll do it together. I'll hold your hand, you can hold mine, and well go and make some noise for the Terns. Come on, guys. Third time lucky, yeah?

Also, it's a Tern, not a sodding albatross.

Per Tenebras ad Lucem

Eff out.

xx



** ** ** ** **


Kohev Kungas-Vaga gathered the players in the changing room, just before going out to the tunnel, to face the Audioslavians. The stadium was rocking already, he could feel it in his bones. The whole team could taste it in the air.

"Listen, guys," he said, "Morten and Steffan have said their bits. Now let me say mine. I know I'm not Alexsandr, but I'm sure we can do this...

"I've always known that a lot of people liked football. And I've always known that football was a very important game. But I never realised, until today, just how important it is. We are about the glory of the game. We are about playing with style. We are the Terns of Polar Islandstates...

"The curve of the ball. The billow of the net. The beating of the trap, and the picking of the lock. The swiftness of thought. The lightness of touch. We are Marek, Bielsen, and Skye...

"We are the collective gasp, the intake of breath. The trick, the flick, the thirty yard free kick. We are Hauge, van Jendrisen, and Demarchelier...

"We are the lob, the chip, the dummy, and the volley. We are the hat trick, the scissor kick, the tackle, the line, the last men standing. We are Urfstadt, Kirkkegaard, and van Sorensen...

"We are the outside of the boot, the inside of the net; those seconds that last forever. We are Juul, Pekarik, and Ackermann-Finn...

"Glory past, glory future. What was, what is. What's next? We are Gammel, Hansen, and Berg...

"We are about winning with a flourish, not giving them a chance, winning with style. We are about the glory of the game. Daring to try, daring to risk, daring to dream. Per tenebras, ad lucem.

"We are the Terns of Polar Islandstates. Let's go outside, let's win this trophy!

"See you on the other side, my friends."

And the team walked out. Down the tunnel, and into the light.


OOC: Fair credit, this speech from KKV is almost entirely borrowed from a Tottenham Hotspur video.
Last edited by Polar Islandstates on Sat Jan 25, 2014 9:59 am, edited 2 times in total.
The True Valhallan Federation of Polar Islandstates - Pop. 51,500,000
Capital: Franz Josef City - Demonym: Valhallan (Polarian) - Trigramme: PIS
sportnyheter.vu - Ides of March Cup
Champions: WC67, CR XIX, CR XVIII, CR XV, CR X, CR VIII, DBC56, DBC20, RLWC11, RLWC10 Runners-Up: WC66, WC65, CR VI, DBC29, DBC55, WCoH18
Third: WC70, WC68, WC57, CR XII, DBC27 Fourth: WC56, CR XXII, RLWC13, RLWC9, WCoH17
“Aut Pax Aut Bellum” - A formerly closed nation that definitely isn't fascist now. The strongest and one true constituent member of The Valhallan Union
He/Him/His

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Cassadaigua
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5256
Founded: Sep 19, 2008
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Cassadaigua » Sat Jan 25, 2014 10:09 am

Audioslavia. A nation with a long and storied history. At one time, they may have had a bit of a reputation, that they could never win the big game. The nation disappeared for a little while from World Cup play, but upon returning, they were able to finally win the big game. Then, they won it a second time.

Polar Islandstates. A nation who quickly became one of the best in the world. But now, they have a reputation, the one in which had hovered over their opponent for what must have seemed like an eternity. All they need to do is look on the other side field to know that all it takes is one big win to erase that history.

Fans of both nations have made it to Concord Heights, and hopefully before the game have been able to reflect on some of the history that has been played here. Championships have been won on this field, and it's been the home field for two World Cup championship teams. It's been 100 years since the first international games were played on this field, and today the celebration culminates with the World Cup Final, between two great nations. Will Audioslavia win their third title? Will Polar Islandstates finally get that championship?

On behalf our co-hosts Equestrian States, we thank both of these nations and everyone else who participated along this journey that began before Christmas (in RL time) It's been a great joy to co-host this tournament.

And now, for the final time of this World Cup Cycle: It's cutoff time.

Result
Last edited by Cassadaigua on Sat Jan 25, 2014 10:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
NS Sports’ only World Cup, World Bowl, World Cup of Hockey, World Baseball Classic and International Basketball Championships winner!

(Motorsports, college basketball, and volleyball, too)


Specific Titles: World Cup 50, 51; WBC 14, 16, 19, 50 & 58; WB 8, 22, & 40; WCOH 11 & 39; IBC 13.
Also: CR 40 & 43; CoH 39; Swamp Soccer 4, RTC WC 18 & 19; WVE 6; NSCAA 3, 5 & 9; NSSCRA 7
Runner Up: CoH 40, CR 37, 38 & 41; WB 21, WcoH 8, IBC 12, WBC 13, 15, 47 & 48, DBC 21.
WC Qualified for: 45, 46, 49-61, 67, 79 (DNP WC 69-77), 81-90, 92.
XIII Summer Olympiad: 2nd Most Medals
Hosted: WC 54, 67, 84 & 88; CoH 57 & 73, BoF 47, CR 30, WB 16, WBC 18, 26, 40, 45 & 50, NSCAA, NSCH 1; WLC 7, 30 & 33.

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Polar Islandstates
Senator
 
Posts: 3550
Founded: Jan 17, 2011
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Polar Islandstates » Sun Jan 26, 2014 4:54 am

Image


YEEAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA...

WE DID IT!

Those wonderful, beautiful boys only went and bloody did it at last! At long last, the Terns can call themselves the champions of the Multiverse. Not the nearly men, not the also ran, not the close but no cigar, but the champions. Sea, aitch, ay, em, pee, eye, oh, en, ess. Thor's Beard that feels good to say. From heartbreak in Sixty-Five, and further heartbreak in Sixty-Six, here we are. And let me tell you, as if you need telling, that it feels bloody fantastic. That monkey has been thrown so far off our shoulders after the partying we did last night that it must be in orbit by now. Of course, it took the voices of most of us with it as it went, but sod that. Details. It was worth it, anyhow.

And how did we do it? Magnificently, that's how.

Audioslavia lined up as expected, and Rasmussen made one key change to our own line-up in anticipation of this. Zeljeznicar had his best game in a Terns shirt so far in the semi final against Valladares, but he was sacrificed in the name of tactics from the starting eleven, thanks to Rasmussen's desire to pack the midfield with just one more less attackingly minded player. Kirvesniemi was that player, and Villeneuve moved up to play a deeper version of the role that Zeljeznicar had been doing.

And they came out firing on all cylinders, I can tell you. I don' know what was said to them in that changing room but from where I was sitting (and, best you don't ask how I got hold of my ticket) you could almost see the grit in their eyes and the bit between their teeth from all the way up where we were. First Kolehmainen, then Saarinen hit shots that forced Imaslavii, the so called 'best goalkeeper in the Multiverse' into action within the first fifteen minutes, and despite a tentative start from the opposition the game was soon rocking along nicely.

So far so free of choking, and despite Courier pulling the strings for the Bulls in the centre of the park, the attackers could simply not find a way through the massed ranks of our defence, crowding them out time and again as if we have an extra man advantage. We didn't, of course, but this feature of our defence has always reminded me a little of handball tactics. Anyway, in this instance, their distress wasn't being caused by an extra man, but was instead the result of Eikr Lillehammer playing like a man possessed. Whatever had been said in that dressing room, he was clearly taking it to heart.

As you all know, the first half ended goalless, but not for the want of trying. Kolehmainen was desperate to add to his goal tally in front of the Terns fans at that end of the stadium, but two great saves from Imaslavii denied him, and a Villeneuve free kick came crashing back off the crossbar just after the half hour mark. We probably just about shaded the first half in terms of possession and shots on goal, but there was still time for Hudson-Blake to hit the post with a fierce drive after he outpaced Lucic, the ball bouncing off and straight back into the grateful Kirilaunen's hands.

The second half came around with the score still goalless, and the tensions and excitement in the crowd reaching ever higher levels. I've been to all three finals, and from where I was sitting we'd played better as a team in this one than we had in any of the others. Perhaps we really were relying on van Sorensen's brilliance to do something too much. Neither coach made any changes at the interval, and the Terns started the game in the same vein in which they'd started the first one. Fast.

Saarinen and Villeneuve exchanged passes on several occasions that looked to outwit Mancini and Mannini but just failed to do so, whilst Zekani took a long shot that Kirilaunen was able to palm down into the floor and catch at will. Bjerregaard and Kungas-Vaga were making the kind of runs down the wing that Tal and Polsson would have been expecting, no doubt, but they were struggling to deal with the pace, and with the partnerships of Kirvesniemi and Cornelius beginning to overpower the centre of the park, it was clear that a goal was coming.

And it did.

More fine work from Saarinen and Villeneuve provided the space, and Kolehmainen appeared late on to smash home the pull back from twelve yards, right into the bottom corner of the goal like a bullet. He doesn't let you down in tournaments, does Kolehmainen. Something about the situation brings the best out of him, and as he ran full speed around the back of the goal in front of the Audioslavian fans, we were already going spare in the stands at our end. It was fantastic.

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Get ready to be seeing this image a lot over the next few months or so.


And that was that, for the next half hour, the tone was set. Audioslavia became the aggressor from there on in. Rasmussen wasn't complacent, he knew a one goal lead wouldn't be enough. The Terns had been in this position before and found themselves on the losing side, changes were needed if the Terns were to stay in the lead. Cornelius, looking increasingly leggy, was hauled off in favour of Einarsson, and Lucic looking similarly so was replaced in favour of Morten Salo. Both had done their utmost for the side and were applauded off warmly.

The pressure from the Bulls kept coming though and Kirilaunen's saves count kept trickling up, with the pick of the bunch being a fine left handed stop down to the bottom corner from Hudson-Blake's fierce drive. Rasmussen was apoplectic on the bench with how much space the dangerous attacker was being allowed. Nordenberg and Salo each made courageous blocks at close range as the hour mark cam and went, and still the assault from Audioslavia would continue. Only a couple of breakouts from our forwards relieved the pressure somewhat, wit one attack from Villeneuve seeing him send over a cross to the far post that Saarinen collided with the post trying to connect with. Hobbling a little, Wolff was told to warm up by Pekarik, but the East Franz striker wasn't going to let anything so simple as a dead leg put him off, and to the background of much applause and encourage from us Twitchers, he carried on.

Ten minutes remained on the clock, with the game finely poised and the Terns defending like they had done all match. Always tough to break down, Rasmussen has served to make them almost impenetrable when the time comes for that to be required. It was required now, and as the waves of attacks broke on the rocks of our back four once again, Rasmussen made the decision to change things up again. Vaaraniemi on, which normally meant Kungas-Vaga would be involved somewhere along the lines, and Kirvesniemi off. The shape changed from the Pythagorean to some kind of diamond 4-2-2-2 with Lillehammer, the outstanding and tireless Lillehammer, partnering Kungas-Vaga in some kind of destructive defensive midfield partnership that was tasked with protecting the defence. It worked, too, with the Bulls getting more and more frustrated in possession.

The frustration showed, and when Zekani was blown up for holding Lillehammer in the eighty-fifth minute on the edge of the box, Lillehammer took the kick quickly. To Villeneuve, who laid it out to the left flank for Vaaraniemi. Fresh on, the pace of Vaaraniemi destroyed the structure of Audioslavia at the back and the break was on. Surely, we thought, surely this would be the moment that we would put demons to rest. Bjerregaard and Kolehmainen were streaking down the pitch creating a two-on-two with Mancini and Mannini in the centre, waiting for the cross from Vaaraniemi. And then there was Kungas-Vaga appearing from nowhere creating a three-on-two. And then there was the cross. And then there was Kungas-Vaga arriving late to volley home with a shot that left Imaslavii twisting and turning in mid-flight to try and stop the ball from finding its way gloriously into the top corner. And then there was noise.

Kungas-Vaga wheeled away from the goal and ran the length of the pitch, first looking for the figure of van Sorensen in the crowd. He pointed. He clasped the badge on his chest, shaking it as he screamed in pride. He ran towards us Twitchers, celebrating in front of us as the team mobbed him. Audioslavian players were lying down on the pitch, they thought it was all over. It might as well have been. Surely that was it? Surely that was the end of the years of hurt.

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The Captain leads us to the title in Cassadaigua with a goal of his own.


It was.

Oh happy day.

When the final whistle went the entire bench rushed out to celebrate with the players on the pitch. I'm not even sure what happened in those moment between the final whistle and the podium being lead out onto the pitch, but I'm pretty sure I saw a guy crowd surfing. We were euphoric. I think the players came over to clap us at one point but to be honest I have no concrete memory of this. Someone had smuggled in some Seasogs, and we were enjoying the occasion.

And then came the medal giving. The Audioslavian team were applauded politely, as most of their fans had stayed behind to watch the ceremony. Good eggs. Then our turn. Former players, WCC presidents, and former managers all came down onto the pitch to watch and clap the players off - a veritable who's who of the Terns footballing history. Marek, Bielsen, Hansen, Skye, van Sorensen, Kirkkegaard, they were all there and more besides, but the moment belonged to those who'd played.

And who'd managed. Morten Rasmussen went up first, then Steffan Pekarik, both of them receiving colossal cheers from our end of the stadium. Then Iulian Kirilaunen, who for all the boasts from Starblaydian and Audioslavian press was the only goalkeeper in the tournament to keep a clean sheet in the final, and who indeed only conceded three goals all tournament. And then the other goalkeepers, Artemiusz Korzhanenko and Alexis Sand, the only members of the twenty-three not to have featured in the finals, but who of course contributed hugely to the team and to our qualification campaign. And then the rest of the players. Moses Luc Bjerregaard, Aapo Nordenberg, Vladimir Lucic, Eikr Lillehammer - whose performance in the final earned him the man of the match trophy as well - Jean-Eric Villeneuve, Marten Cornelius, Alexis Zlejeznicar, Felix Saarinen, Gustaf Kolehmainen, Linus Bosnjakovic, Fabian Vaaraniemi, Alexis St Olaf, Anders Holzhauser, Vadim Illich-Svitych, Jorgen Kirvesniemi, Torsten Wolff, Svenbjorn Einarsson, Morten Salo, and Soren Rovanpera.

And then finally, finally, came the captain. Kohev Kungas-Vaga, whose goal just underlined our win in the final, as well as scoring our first goal in qualifying. He started it, he finished it, and now he was going to lift it. The World Cup title. The World Cup trophy. Accompanied by two scenes behind the camera that you won't have seen on television at home - namely Steffan Pekarik doing his best to force his World Cup winners' medal into the reluctant hands of Alexsandr van Sorensen, who'd captained us twice in the final only to see us lose before retiring, and Timo Sky doing his best to try and talk Morten Rasmussen into giving him his medal - Kohev approached the stand.

He received his handshake and his medal from Sol Kirkkegaard, and bent to hear a few choice words from the former manager. He smiled. What had been said, we can only speculate. And then he moved sideways, the podium with the trophy. Receiving his handshake from Magnus Ragnorak, he bent to hear a few words from his as well. He frowned, and looked slightly disgusted. What had been said, I don't want to speculate.

We cheered, we hummed in anticipation. He looked at his team-mates, beckoning for them to step down from the step and share the moment with him. And so they did. Kohev Kungas-Vaga lifted the trophy, and the confetti cannons exploded. As did our emotions.

And oh yes, after two defeats, it feels good, let me tell you. For those players who were in all three squads and who'd lost in the last two, I felt even happier for - Kungas-Vaga, Villeneuve, Cornelius, Saarinen, Kirilaunen, Sand, Bosnjakovic, Vaaraniemi, Lillehammer, Kolehmainen, Zelzjeznicar, and Kirvesniemi. Twelve players who Rasmussen and Pekarik brought in to play together and who have formed the core of the squad that this win has been based around.

With a medal in the back pocket, those final defeats don't seem so bad anymore. Now, they look more like what they are - proof of us being the second best in the Multiverse at that time. Now however, now we can say that we're the champions of the Multiverse.

And that just feels so much better.

The parties lasted long into the morning, and around 5am it was suggested by one of us that we were all going to need new shirts for the next campaign, which would prove quite the money spinner for the FPIFA. Confused, we asked why we'd all need new shirts. The response felt good to hear. As if it were proof that this was all happening.

"Why, because we're going to have a star over the badge from now on!"

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And he's right, too. I mean, how good does that look, right? Ah. All my yes. This is going to take a while to properly sink in I think, guys. Enjoy it. It's a good feeling.

I'm off now, though. I'm going to see if I can talk my way into getting some of my property back from the hotel staff after things got a bit wild and suitcases met the hotel pool at about two o'clock in the morning. I'll see you at the Copa. It's unlikely I'll be blogging if Ossidiacqua end up hosting the thing, for obvious reasons, but I'll be up in the stands as per usual. Let's make it four, yeah?

Per Tenebras ad Lucem

Eff out.

xx

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Last edited by Polar Islandstates on Sun Jan 26, 2014 5:01 am, edited 2 times in total.
The True Valhallan Federation of Polar Islandstates - Pop. 51,500,000
Capital: Franz Josef City - Demonym: Valhallan (Polarian) - Trigramme: PIS
sportnyheter.vu - Ides of March Cup
Champions: WC67, CR XIX, CR XVIII, CR XV, CR X, CR VIII, DBC56, DBC20, RLWC11, RLWC10 Runners-Up: WC66, WC65, CR VI, DBC29, DBC55, WCoH18
Third: WC70, WC68, WC57, CR XII, DBC27 Fourth: WC56, CR XXII, RLWC13, RLWC9, WCoH17
“Aut Pax Aut Bellum” - A formerly closed nation that definitely isn't fascist now. The strongest and one true constituent member of The Valhallan Union
He/Him/His

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