Posted: Thu Jan 04, 2018 5:40 am
The rim of the west stand of the Newton-Smith Arena glittered in the sun and Reidar had to fight a natural urge to shield himself from the silver lining that made goalkeepers dash through their kit bags for caps. Well, at last, he would have one as well. Of course he knew that it was only caused by the lucky cocktail with the ingredients of a Valter Isaksson suffering a bit of his left ankle and the given of a dead rubber sliced with a pinch of Ichi Tuzzio trying to keep everyone in the squad motivated – even apart from the eleven who had thundered through the first three games with such unilateral results.
There was certainly something unfair in calling it a waste of a game – even if he, Gularis, Nordin, Fossum and other Hedlunds were allowed some time on the pitch. It was a welcome to the squad of the future, with guys like Mikaucis, Raestad, Marciak and such reaching their expiration date. Being the only one to hear the anthem for the first time – that is, hearing it whilst trying to look focussed and calm as a camera slips past you whilst thousands of fans ferociously belt out the ineligible words – Reidar tried to keep himself from licking his lips or fumbling his thumbs. In a way, it felt as if he was the only Buyanese not focused on the revenge against Eastfield Lodge – or at least, what all aspired it would become once we clashed with the side that bumped us off the course twice during the qualifiers.
At the opposite of the referee, something completely different was going on. Lisander could stunt tonight if they managed to do better than Darmen against Dunnes and even if the odds were not in their favour, there was little doubt that Wagner and his chaps were eager to perform. In a way, it was the perfect set-up for a debut. If the Hedgehogs dropped the ball, no one would bother – if they won it was a display against an energetic side. The sun danced the cucaracha along the sky, the tifosi turned out in thick packs and were already feeling festive and the confidence was beaming. Everything was perfect.
Except Reidar.
He had dreamt about this evening for years on end, ever since he first set foot on the youth complex of the Giants. It was still in the days of Freddi Ulvan, the grizzled man manager who would sell his star players every other year just to ensure that the kids were alright and could train in the best possible circumstances. Season by season he stepped up, his brother by his side along with an army of people who first whispered, than said and eventually cried if off the rooftops – he’s going to be a Hedgehog one day.
All those practice sessions, those long travels with the youth team. Not going to the prom of high school – just to sit through a numbing core stability session. Standing in the pouring rain for hours that one time he was selected for the national youth trainings, being the only muppet making the transfer all the way to Pajukas every time. Sacrifices, day in and day out for that one moment. That one perfect day.
This was not a perfect day to have the runs.
There was certainly something unfair in calling it a waste of a game – even if he, Gularis, Nordin, Fossum and other Hedlunds were allowed some time on the pitch. It was a welcome to the squad of the future, with guys like Mikaucis, Raestad, Marciak and such reaching their expiration date. Being the only one to hear the anthem for the first time – that is, hearing it whilst trying to look focussed and calm as a camera slips past you whilst thousands of fans ferociously belt out the ineligible words – Reidar tried to keep himself from licking his lips or fumbling his thumbs. In a way, it felt as if he was the only Buyanese not focused on the revenge against Eastfield Lodge – or at least, what all aspired it would become once we clashed with the side that bumped us off the course twice during the qualifiers.
At the opposite of the referee, something completely different was going on. Lisander could stunt tonight if they managed to do better than Darmen against Dunnes and even if the odds were not in their favour, there was little doubt that Wagner and his chaps were eager to perform. In a way, it was the perfect set-up for a debut. If the Hedgehogs dropped the ball, no one would bother – if they won it was a display against an energetic side. The sun danced the cucaracha along the sky, the tifosi turned out in thick packs and were already feeling festive and the confidence was beaming. Everything was perfect.
Except Reidar.
He had dreamt about this evening for years on end, ever since he first set foot on the youth complex of the Giants. It was still in the days of Freddi Ulvan, the grizzled man manager who would sell his star players every other year just to ensure that the kids were alright and could train in the best possible circumstances. Season by season he stepped up, his brother by his side along with an army of people who first whispered, than said and eventually cried if off the rooftops – he’s going to be a Hedgehog one day.
All those practice sessions, those long travels with the youth team. Not going to the prom of high school – just to sit through a numbing core stability session. Standing in the pouring rain for hours that one time he was selected for the national youth trainings, being the only muppet making the transfer all the way to Pajukas every time. Sacrifices, day in and day out for that one moment. That one perfect day.
This was not a perfect day to have the runs.