The LCRUA Championship IC (LCRUA only)

[South Asians]

17th July 2018
Estadio Presidente Geraldo Lopes, Calfuego and Baja-Janerio
Larnion 2 (Psionyx 46' 54')
South Asians 1 (Udanta Singh 10')

South Asians lost their second group stage match here in CABJ. South Asians started as favorites for this match as they got the initial lead by a free kick goal thanks to Udanta Singh. Till the 45th Minute South Asians were ahead by a goal but South Asians lost their Defender Zohib Islam Amiri before in the 44th Minute due to injury. He was replaced by Anas Edathodika as regular player Daniel Tanveer Batth was unable to reach the venue because he missed his flight. Larnion went on to offensive made after the half time and due to their great coordination between their Midfielders and Forwards Striker Mortimer Psionyx scored twice in just eight minutes. Both team tried to attack each other in the last 34 minutes and South Asians made a few of opportunities for goals but they were unable to convert them.
Manager Syed Abdul Rahim told that the injury of Zohib Islam Amiri was the turning point of this match. His injury is severe and he can't play football for a month. Daniel Tanveer Batth will replace him in the playing 11. Daniel is one of the most successful defenders in South Asians Football. He has represented several overseas clubs also. Syed added that our match against the hosts will be the most difficult game in this tournament, so far. We will give our 100% because it is a do or die situation for us and hopefully we will win and qualify for the semi-finals.

[Linnuis]

Salomonistic States 0-1 Linnuis

Linnuis are one step closer to the semi-finals and international glory beyond that, thanks to their comfortable one-nil win over the brave, but sadly doomed States.

The States started the game very eagerly, constantly pressuring Hill and Carruthers. Fortunately Jones was on hand to make sure that the keeper wasn't seriously troubled. The Linnuan defence ultimately proved solid as by the 29th minute the States began to look a little frustrated, and the Linnuan midfield began to assert control of the game. In spite of all their efforts the Salominians were without a goal at the end of the half.

Linnuis started the second half strongly, forcing many saves from the States' keeper. In the 52nd minute Bassett appeared to have headed the ball in from a Hook corner, however it was ruled to have not crossed the line by the VAR. The States did well at marking the Linnuan attackers out of the game, but this tight marking eventually proved their undoing when Kinnaird came up from deep in the 82nd minute to slot the ball into the bottom left corner from the edge of the penalty area. Linnuis then kept control of the ball until the full-time whistle, not wanting to expend too much energy before the crunch game against Yymea.

Graham Chapman said after the match; "Overall, we played very well. Very solid defensively, and proved that even when marked out of the game we still pose a serious danger to the most organised of defences. Credit to Salomonistic States, they've come here for their first international tournament and they've done themselves proud. We just need to focus on our next game now against a very good Yymea side."

We're in a dominating position in our group but we're not through yet. A loss against Yymea would give Poulton-with Fearnhead a chance if they beat Salomonistic States, but they would still need either Yymea to thrash us, or themselves to put plenty past the States to go through on goal-difference. A draw is all that's necessary for us to qualify, and whilst Yymea are the bookies' favourite to win the tournament they probably won't be going all out in what is essentially a non-game for them. At the very least, a 4th place finish is looking very likely.

[Salomonistic States]

Salomonistic States 0-2 Linnuis

After the match, the Salominians across the world were disappointed in there performance. Not having achieved more than one goal there entire tournament, it seems as though they were cursed by some inbenevolent sociopath who was deciding the match scores. The peoples back in the states shut down there stalls and sports sections early, taking off the soccer paraphernalia from the shelves, and people would glumly go about there otherwise pretty satisfactory lives, feeling just a mite down. They put there soccer jerseys or shirts or whatever back into the back of there closets, so as to avoid reminding them of this occurrence. The Government, as well as government officials, made no comment on the game, and simply hoped they would have one final victory against PwF. Of course, it was not up to them, but chance, fortune, and possibly the machinations of some Scot's random generator. However, randomness had not so far favored the Salominians as it had done the tournaments host, as well as many of the more prominent LCRUA members, But such is life.

Salominians in Calfuego shook hands with Linnuans, and would wish them luck against the Yymeans. In fact, support was split nearly in half, with many cheering for Yymea as they were a great friend of the Salomonistic States, but also Linnius, because do you really need a reason, what a jolly fellow. After the match with Pwf, many would go home, not especially caring about the results.

[Calfuego and Baja-Janerio]

"The referee takes a look...surely this is time up...surely...IT IS! IT'S OVER! IT'S OVER! WE'VE DONE IT, THE SELECAO ARE THROUGH!"
The words of Lamar D'Eso, CBJTV's lead in game analyst as the final whistle blew on Calfeugo & Baja-Janerio's final group fixture against South Asians.

The game had started brightly for the Selecao, with Derrick Ettiene netting after 4 minutes after a dazzling solo run through the SA defence.
The lead was doubled on 20 minutes when Tito thundered home a header from a corner whipped into the box by Carlito, cementing the Selecao's control on the game and the group. South Asians struggled to break down the midfield four, rarely threatening the backline in the first half.

The win was secured on the hour mark, when Ettiene again found the net- this time from the penalty spot, after Vasquez was cynically fouled inside the box. South Asians responded with 15 minutes to go after some neat passing play, but they could not muster the monumental comeback that would be required to take them into the semi-finals.

The fulltime whistle was greeted deleriously by the cheering blue and gold clad hoardes around the stadium-only to be cut sharply short when the scoreboard revealed the results in Group B. A defiant roar greeted the news that Yymea, the seemingly all-conquering tournament favourites, stood in the way of the Selecao and the final at the Estadio Nacional.

After the match, manager Charles Jackson faced the media.
"It's a great feeling to have won the group, and a monumental acheivement to have reached the semi finals. The boys have tempered their enthusiasm a bit now, of course- Yymea are an incredible side. I've obviously not seen the highlights of their game yet, but from what I have seen Linnuis have risen to their full potential, they must have. Yymea have some incredible players- Kgiglmbil and Bujdil have been in fine form, and though the fact they've lost to Linnuis gives us hope we know they'll be out with a point to prove in the semi-final. Derrick, Ronaldo, the whole team know now what we're facing and how good they need to be. We've come this far, it's time to finish the job and bring it home."

[Linnuis]

Linnuis 3-2 Yymea


Linnuis have done it! A tense victory over the last People's Cup champions and bookies' favourites, Yymea, has seen Linnuis through to the semi-finals for the second tournament in a row. Linnuis needed to secure a point in order to guarantee qualification in case Poulton-with-Fearnhead defeated Salomonistic States, a very likely possibility indeed.

Yymea dominated most of the first half, holding on to the ball, preventing the Trojans from playing their preferred fast-paced style of play. Eventually the possession took it's toll on Linnuis as Yymea got their first goal in the 31st minute. Linnuis continued to be frustrated by a lack of possession for the rest of the half but managed a few shots on target before the whistle.

Hargreves replaced Morgan at the start of the second half and revitalised the Linnuan team. His vision paid off in the 49th minute as he threaded a through ball to Matthews who curved a shot past Ijblijh to level the game. Linnuis hurled themselves at Yymea, perhaps too passionately as both Kinnaird and Jones entered the referee's notebook. In the 62nd minute Hargreves passed the ball wide to Hook who ran down the wing to deliver a low cross to the waiting Bassett, who headed the ball onto the crossbar. The ball bounced favourably to Hargreves, who was hovering around the D. He took a single touch before slamming the ball into the back of the net. Despite having already qualified, Yymea weren't going to sit back and let this happen. Yymea scored again in the 79th, putting the Linnuan fans on the edge of their seats. However, in the 90+2nd McDonald broke clear of the Yymean defence and chipped a cheeky shot over the keeper to finish the game at 3-2!

After the game we asked the manager for his thoughts: "Incredible game, absolutely incredible. End to end, passionate, and great football displayed by both sides. I couldn't have asked more from the team, they gave all they had and got us through to the semis. But we shouldn't feel too pleased with ourselves as we have a tough game against Larnion coming up, where we of course hope to improve on our last tournament finish and reach the final."

After a stuttering start with a draw against Poulton-with-Fearnhead, wins against Salomonistic States and Yymea have seen us finish top of group B. However, we all remember the last time we finished top of our group... anyway, we can only hope that we knock Larion out in the semis to secure our second best finish in international football or go all the way to equal our 2015 triumph. Come on Trojans!

[Salomonistic States]

Salominian Win Against Poulton w/ Fearnhead
Salomonistic States 2-1 PwF

After the Salominians had officially lost their chance to be in the semi-finals, there was a near national upset, and many of the Salominians resigned to their defeat. However, a final chance to restore their honor was seen in the match against PwF. The team gathered in their room in their side of the stadium and had a small talk of encouragement. The Manager, Kristoffer z Vyborgstejn, addressing the team, said: "Boys, we can no longer win this cup. That's a fact, pure and simple. But we are granted by the glory of god and rules of soccer one final chance at redemption. If you lose now, no one will blame you, or even hold it against you. But if you win, we'll always have the honor of trying, even when there was no hope of winning. The PwF team is in there, discussing how they need to absolutely crush us to stay in, they still have a chance, and they will do anything to claw themselves a victory. We've got to show them that Salominians won't give up. Should we lose 4-1 again, or even 10-nil, we better lose putting up a fight!" The subsequent yelling and shouting of encouragement filled the room, and the team went outside, a stride in their step.

The beginning was rough going. The Fearnheadians immediately went on the offensive, and the tried and tested Salominian defense were put on their feet. An early shot by PwF was narrowly deflected by the keeper, Daniely Komplen von Steinborg, and afterward was narrowly stolen by the Salominian offence. Soon, the Fearnheadians were put on the defensive, and after a minor scuffle on the far side of the field, kicker Mercoa Hradvasnovice, a non-native Salominian, swiftly kicked the ball into the goal, with the Fearnhead goalkeeper narrowly skimming it with his fingertips. The Salominian crowd, thought to have lost all hope, but still showing up in droves for their final game, gave out a deafening whoop and cheering ensued. This was their first chance at a real victory, meaningless or not.

The Fearnheadians, realizing the need to up their game should they want to stay in, began a desperate attack that swept through Salominian defenses initially, with the PwF forwarders bolting full speed across the field, urgent to win this match. The Salominian defense was put to the test, and having held off this merciless offense for several precious minutes, before intercepting the ball and kicking it back across the endfield. The Fearnheadians got a foul shot, which was hit to the forward players, and they once again began the onslaught, clearly putting in their all. The heat of the Calfuegan summer was very apparent in the effects on the Fearnheadians, which played to the ruddier Salominians advantage. However, this wouldn't matter when the Fearnheadians got the ball through, minutes before intermission. A particularly driven offensive player managed to kick it past Daniely Komplen von Steinborg, much to the Salominians dismay.

After a tense Intermission, the Salominians and Fearnheadians sparred with little to no result for a long period, but in the final minutes, the Salominians, putting a great emphasis on national pride and honor, made it clear with the final push. Midfielder Rabbic Deniste af Bjestet managed to snag it from the Fearnheadian defense, and narrowly keep it after several fearnheadian midfielders came for him. He managed to pass it to the star offensive Kettling Bewachtertopf, who, in the last minute of the game, made the fantastic kick into the goal, psyching the keeper into diving the wrong way. The Salominian applause was heard for miles, and, although they were going home in defeat in the big picture, they were happy with their small picture win, and would be going home happy.

[Yymea]

Linnuis 3-2 Yymea

Linnuis, Hargraves '49, Basset '62, McDonald '90+2
Yymea, Ililail Bujdil '31, Ail Mjilj '79

"Don't make me name Yjige Eki in this house again Ilku, don't be such a lazy dud and clean up the plates, what'll the children think huh? Seeing their dad lazing around and watching the telly like some 20th century american? Do you want them to think that's cool?"

"C'mon Ki, don't be so dramatic, its the big match!"

"Its been the big match every day for a week!"

"Hey hey, you know what, I'll make you a deal, I'll take your load of work tomorrow if you lay off a bit until the end of the Championship, that's fair right? Aaa, c'mon!"

"Sure, but break your bones tomorrow Ilku"

Ki left the small living room, his bun of hair swaying lightly atop his head. Ilku sat in his couch, a huge jug of tomato juice at his feet. He had put on full football gear for the occasion, the secondary, white and green outfit, designed for the last People's Cup. Yymea had won back then, and he remembered celebrating at the People's Square, Ki by his side. The clothes were a better fit back then. He could see his belly poking its ugly head when he looked down. He pulled awkwardly, trying to cover the patch of skin, but to no avail. He look at the TV. It was the usual pre-match commentary, some football expert of sorts kept pointing at arrows in a whiteboard, but he couldn't make much sense of it. Ilku had never been interested in the technicalities, the gore and guts of football, but the emotion of the sport seduced him like few other things could.

The minutes passed slowly, Ilku was all tensed up, craning and crakling his back downwards from time to time to lift the tomato drink to his lips. Eventually Ki came back into the room, a bowl of leftover rice and chicken in his hands, cold and covered in sesame seeds. The bowl was covered in drawings of Kokocho, a friendly, happy-go-lucky turkey from a popular kids cartoon.

"Do you think Ilnake and Alibeil are safe?"

"Yes, of course! The school is taking care of them, they're having a great time in Angleterre, they're going to be talking about it for weeks! Anyway, don't worry and watch the match, its about to start! You'll have plenty to worry about tomorrow"

Ki was right, the referee was setting everything up, in a few seconds he would blow his whistle and the match would begin. Ilku looked on nervously, his hands shaking ever so slightly. The referee finally blew, and the match was on. The commentator, the loudest, quickest talker in the whole of Yymea, excitedly narrated every movement of the ball in the field, and somehow had time to explain the history of the great matches between the two powerhouses inbetween. She made the match an epic encounter, a battle of the giants, and the field was backing her up. The Trojans, while seemingly choked by Yymean pressure managed to put up a fierce fight, resisting Yymean onslaughts and even had some solid chances the few times they took control of the ball during the first half.

Ilku went completely silent at the 31st minute. Ail Jmnubjil had the ball. The young player ran forward, kicked the ball high, it soared for what felt like AN eternity through the sky, and landed by Bujdil. Only one Linnuan defender stood before him, and he quickly decided to move past him, leaving him and the goalie naked before eachother. Ilku was on his tiptoes, while Ki digged into his meal. Bujdil and Lloyd, Lloyd and Bujdil. The Yymean shot, the Linnuan jumped, and the ball sunk deep into the net.

Ilku sprung up with a joyful holler from his seat, while Ki shouted a "Oh yes, great!" through a mouthful of rice and fowl. Ilku knew, however, that the match was dar from over. The minutes passed, and although Yymea kept dominating to a certain extent, things were still uncertain. Soon, the first half ended, and the usual pundits pointed to the usual whiteboards, and obscure conversation was had. Ilku started getting tense again as the clock got closer to the start of the second half. Soon, the experts shut up, and the cameramen back un Calfuego all pointed towards the field, as the players climbed back up, and the ball started rolling once more. Apparently a Linnuan player had been switched out, but Ilku didn't pay much attention to them.

What he did pay attention to was the sudden goal by Linnuis, Ilku almost hadn't realized what had happened, but a pass, a good shot, and now both teams were equal. Ilku started getting closer and closer to the TV screen with every passing minute, muttering from time to time "don't let another one in you arses" He almost sunk to the ground the moment Linnuis scored the second goal, but Yymea did not falter.

The commentator kept going, stoicaly excited and with countless breath left. Yymea were putting on a huge attack against Linnuis, and Linnuis were playing aggresively too. Both teams wanted the first place in the group at all costs. Ilku finally roared with triumph as Ail took the ball and ran in a brutal counterattack against a thinly defended Linnuan side, outrunning two defenders by the side and scoring an impressive goal from quite an angle and distance. Now Yymea had to defend what was hers.

Linnuis attacked relentlessly, every second was a stressful rollercoaster of emotions for all Yymean fans. As the minutes went on, both Linnuans and Yymeans got more and more heated up, ones waiting for the blessing of the whistle, others hoping for a final goal.

"This is it, its ended, its ended"

"No its not Ilku, don't say that, its bad luck"

"We're in extra time, they won't score"

"Shut up Ilku"

...

"Ilku you have a fun day ahead"

The next morning

As Ilku washed some cutlery, the hot water splashing him everywhere as he tried to wash a spoon, he listened to the sound of the TV from the other room. It was the Yymean manager, he was giving a press conference. Apparently, despite the loss, he was 'content' with the result, but warned that the team had to be at their absolute best shape against Calfuego, or the match would be hell. He told the Yymean fans to cheer like no other people have ever cheered for a team, make sure they hear them all over Calfuego, and that they never forget what would soon go down, in the field, in the stadium, in the house of every Yymean. Ilku couldn't wait for the match. A spoon with dried rice stuck to it hit him once more.

[Calfuego and Baja-Janerio]

Hello, and welcome to CABJTV's live countdown special. I'm your host Ernesto Alcarez, and I'm live here in Praça da Independência in the heart of Habana. The Fan Park behind me is packed with fans from across LCRUA enjoying a concert by Emil, the godfather of Latin pop-rock!
This is the perfect time to profile the matches of the next two days- the semi-finals of the LCRUA Championship!

Tomorrow...well tomorrow is the day Calfuegans have been waiting for...

Three pm, Tuesday July 24th. The streets will be empty. Schools and businesses closed. Roads deserted. Trains sat motionless at their platforms. Everyone will be gathered around the nearest television set they can find. Twenty thousand of them will be crammed into the Stade de Pòtoprens to- hopefully- witness history.

No one knew quite what to expect when the Football Federation poked it's head above the parapet and offered to host the LCRUA Championship- which would be Calfuego & Baja-Janerio's first foray into international sporting competition since the end of the civil war.
The international enthusiasm has been overwhelming, and as the Selecao dazzled the world the hearts of a once broken and shattered nation were mended.

We stand on the brink of history. The final is within reach, the trophy is within sight. In the way of Le Bleu et l'Or stand Yymea. Reigning champions. Highest scorers. The clear favourites. Only bested thus far by the mighty Trojans of Linnuis, the greatest team in the history of LCRUA. You can expect the streets in Kikikas to be as empty as Habana; the Yymeans live for their team. The players of both teams know the weight on their shoulders. Both carry with them the part- past triumphs, past tragedy. One represents a nation which expects greatness on the pitch, the other a once shattered land who see the blue and gold stripes on the pitch and see hope. History will look at this semi final, regardless of whether or not it produces the eventual champions. For what it means to these two nations, this game is massive.

Derrick Ettiene and Ijblijh will look to inspire their respective sides tomorrow afternoon, but we all know that this game will be tight.
We also all know that our boys might not make it. But all we can do is cheer them on, roar them closer.

Wednesday completes the semi finals...

Larnion and Linnuis. Two teams who stuttered to start. 2 teams who roared back. 2 teams who know they have what it takes to win.

Los hombres de las estrellas, as the locals near the Larnioni base in Santiago have termed them, have played out of this world football at times. They know that to capture the cup they will need to produce a star-spangled display against the Trojans.

The mighty men of Linnuis, the most fearsome and powerful side in the competition, have roared back into contention following their triumph over Yymea. They know the pressures of this stage all too well. They have collapsed beneath them, but also risen above them. The Estadio Dominica is the perfect setting for a titantic contest such as this.

And here we have with us in the studio the prize these 4 teams know they could be so close to claiming for themselves, the LCRUA Cup!

Newly made for this tournament, we all know that the honour of being the first time to be inscribed upon it will belong to Calfuego & Baja-Janerio, Yymea, Larnion or Linnuis on the 28th.

But before all that, we have two semi-finals to contend with.
Roll on tomorrow!

[Yymea]

Calfuego and Baja-Janeiro 1-2 Yymea

CBJ: '61
Yymea: Imnil Bujil, '24, Ililail Bujdil, '81

A huge screen rose up in the city centre, atop a wood and metal plataform, everything painted with the colours of the Yymean team, and surrounded by thousands of excited fans. In the nearby terraces, windows and rooftops Yymeans crammed up to see the match. Only a few minutes more and the ball would finally roll.

"Hey, where are the sandwiches?"

"Oh bollocks, I thought you had em?"

"Oh. Yeah, damn I'm smart"

"We still love you Aini"

Aini took the sandwiches out of his small felt bag, and gave them out. Ile nabbed one immediately, then Oila slowly held hers, and unwrapped the brown paper carefully, revealing the bread like the nose of a badger poking out of its burrow. Meanwhile Ile had already dug into her food, enjoying every bite like her life depended upon it. Aini took his sandwich and calmly took away the wrapper before slowly munching away at it. The three friends soon fell silent as they bothered away at their meal.

Before they even got to finish, they noticed the crowd below getting rowdy. The screen lit up bright, and it seemed that the match was about to start. A massive face stretched across the screen, the referee, ready to toss the coin that would allow the clash to begin. And he did. Yymea would kick off. All players finished getting into their respective positions, already working like two well oiled and cohesive machines. The whistle exploded accross the stadium, the city centre and millions of homes, pushing everyone closer to the titanic match that unfolded right before their eyes.

The roof dwellers went eerily quiet. Both teams played stellar football, the Calfuegan squad had shot up to the top of their group with quality playing, and they were spurred by the legions of local fans inside and outside the stadium. Their roars must have been deafening, but the Yymean fans braved on, chanting their throats out in support of their team. And in the field the Yymeans were slowly beggining to dominate. The Yymean defence slapped away a couple of Calfuegan attacks, and as the timer approached the 20 minute mark, Yymea got more and more aggresive. The Yymeans seemed to have glued the ball to their boots, as the Calfuegans were having more and more difficulties taking the ball. Finally, Yymea struck. Ail Mjilj, Imnil Bujil and Ail Jmnubjil had been flowing forward, passing the ball between eachother and the strikers and almost merging at times with the forwards, boldly attempting to suffocate the Calfuegan team and move the field of play towards the Calfuegan side of the pitch. Ail Mjilj passed the ball through the legs of Carlos Francisco and to the feet of Imnil Bujil. Yymea went into a wild silence as Bujil continued running forward, football rolling by his boots, avoided Tito, and craked a shot that flew past Johny Placide, and deep into the net.

Yymea deafened the sky. Below the screen a wave of sound rose up that engulfed the whole centre, in the rooftop the three friends hollered and jumped, swearing loudly with relief inbetween screams of joy. But the match was very far from over. The Calfuegan fans were only momentarily taken aback, as their team quickly put itself together, getting ready to attack Yymea relentlessly. And they did. Soon, Yymea found itself losing its dominance, on equal grounds to the Calfuegans. At this point both teams played at their absolute best, and only a lack of definitiwonder stopped them from scoring a couple of goals. Calfuego actually had a false alarm, as one of their shots slipped into the net, but as it turned out it had come from an invalid pass.

The minutes kept passing, attack after attack, constant mutual pressure, and both teams started to get tired extremely early. Half time came as a blessing, both teams got to rest well, and the fans could finally calm their wrecked nerves. In the rooftop, a bottle of beer was passed around and quiet talk was made. But soon the break came to an end, and the players headed back onto the pitch. A few droplets of rain had begun to fall back in Calfuego, but nobody seemed to notice. All senses were focused on the movement of the ball accross the field. The opposing sides started gathering steam, and their confrontation resumed at full force. In the Yymean team, Ila ilbsukjril came on to substitute Ail Mjilj, who had been afflicted by sudden cramps, and gave new energy to the team. It seemed that both teams were fairly equal again this half, and although the Yymean defence was more solid, it was only a matter of time before someone scored.

It happened in the blink of an eye, Calfuego had scored. The Yymean fans recoiled from the shock of the sudden goal, the three friends, who had been joking around fell completely silent all of a sudden. Yet, even though surrounded by Calfuegan shouts chants and cheers, the Yymeans were defiant. Iln Ijblijh picked up the ball from the net without a word, and the team put up a fearsome attack, which almost ended up in a goal. In the next few minutes, the Calfuegan team begun to feel more and more tired, which led to them playing more and more aggresively, desperate to score a goal and stop the match from going into extra time. Yymea played into their disorganized attacks, playing fairly defensively to then move forward with thinly manned counterattacks, repeating this over and over again, forcing the Calfuegans to run, exhausted, to defend their side of the pitch.

Finally, after yet another failed Calfuegans attack, Ila ilbsukjril ran with the ball, Ililail Bujdil by the side. Ila passed the ball onto the forward, who only had to go through two Calfuegan defenders, which he did with a sort of 'football virtuoso' movement, something rarely ever seen in the rough around the edges Yymean football scene. This unusual choice worked, as the striker went past both defenders and found himself face to face with Placide. They almost seemed to pause, as if they were both aware of the history they were about to make, or break.

Bujdil shot, sending the ball, and his boot, flying off. One fell onto the wet grass with a lumpy 'thud', and the other laid to rest just past Calfuegan fingers and deep into the net, ready to rest there.

"Nice!"

Nobody in the whole world heard Oila, but her spirit was there, along with that of millions of Yymeans. Calfuego went silent as Yymea rose upwards, but the home team refused to quite give up yet. The fans and the players, admirably and against the crushing blow of the Yymean goal, tried pushing forward during the final minutes, putting up an impressive fight with far more organized attacks, and tangling up the Yymean team. The Yymeans and the Calfuegans were all on edge, praying and hoping for the clock to be good, one way or the other.

Four minutes of extra time. Three left. Two. One, Iln Ijblijh punched the ball away, Calfuegans groaned in frustration, the whistle blowed, Yymea exploded, a sandwich was sent flying from a rooftop, and in Kikikas nobody needed to explain the sudden earthquake.

Yymea was in the final. Il Mrugjikla looked quite pleased with himself, but part of his job was, after all, grounding fans and team alike, so after the usual congratulation to the team, he took it upon himself to remind everyone that the toughest match was yet to come. The final would test the skills of the Yymean team and put them to their limit, and anybody that came into the match with any assumptions was at risk of being very, very dissapointed. But victory was close. He felt it. Yymea felt it.

[Calfuego and Baja-Janerio]

The whistle burst the air, and Yymean cheers went up all around the stadium. From all sides came no sound, just open mouths, blank stares, and sheer eerie silence. The bursting blue and gold hoardes had been silenced. So many were crying, for they had come so close.

Derrick Ettiene lay face down on the pitch, inside the Yymean box. He was glad his face was in the grass. No one could see his tears.
One second quicker, he thought, and he'd have beaten Ijblijh to the ball.
One second quicker, and it would have been his head connecting with the ball and not the mighty Yymean keeper's fist.
One second quicker, and the ball was in the net.
One second quicker, and the Selecao would have been in the final.

All around him as the Yymeans hugged and cheered and saluted their fans, his teammates remained where they had fallen. Slumped to their knees, laying flat on their backs, standing holding their heads in their hands. One by one, they picked themselves up, choked down the tears, and saluted their loyal fans. The fans who had turned out in their thousands, who had split the sky with a roar when Ronaldo Vasquez flicked the ball over three defenders and slammed it beyond the keeper, who had roared and roared praying for the goal to take the game to extra time. The goal that never came.
The applause was deafening from the home fans, loyal even in defeat. But still Derrick did not move. He couldn't find the strength.
Suddenly, a hand was on him. Then another. Then another. His team, his brothers, pulling him to his feet, consoling the nineteen year old who had burst so massively onto the scene.
The jubliant Yymeans applauded the young Ayitian, but were suddenly silenced. The home fans found their voice, and used it to lift one of their own- a young man who lived every moment he could as he grew up in a blue and gold jersey.

"ETT-I-ENE! ETT-I-ENE! ETT-I-ENE! ETT-I-ENE! they roared, followed in an even louder voice by "SEL-E-CAO! SEL-E-CAO! SEL-E-CAO!"
The Yymeans exited the pitch, looking around them in awe as the Selecao gathered in the centre circle. They applauded the stands once more, before departing the pitch.

Hours later, as the lights in the stadium were going out, Charles Jackson stood on the touchline. His wife Leanne walked out the tunnel behind him, took his hand and turned him to face her. She said no words. She didn't have to. She could see the emotion in his eyes, that he had battled back against during his post-match interview. She hugged him, and he hugged her back.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ella Martins sat on her knees on the floor of her grandfather's villa. Tears streamed down her 7 year old cheeks, as she sat alone in the living room in front of the tv. The rest of her family had trudged from the room at the end of the match. Her dad was in the kitchen with her uncles, drinking beer in stoic silence. Her mother and aunts were in the garden, speaking in hushed whispers as though there had been a death in the family. Her brothers were upstairs, sitting on their beds, and saying not a word. Papi was outside on the porch, in his rocking chair, smoking. He always did that after defeat he said. He needed to be alone.

Ella wiped the tears on her blue and gold scarf and stared at the pictures on the wall.
There was Papi and his friends- "my COMRADES, darling!"- in black and white, clad in fatigues and posing with rifles. Medals, pictures of Papi and Nanna, Papi and his fellow rebels. Papi had fought in the war, Ella knew. He had lost, but then he had won, and there had been peace and freedom and people no longer saw Ayitians or mullatos like Ella as lesser. Spanish, Creole, Portuguese. All one nation. All heartbroken tonight.

The screen showed the people leaving Independence Square in Habana, hundreds of miles away. So many were crying, wailing, inconsolable. The whole country had truly believed that they could do it, against all odds and expectations. They had come so close. They had fallen so short.

Ella got up and shuffled over to the huge bay windows of the living room. From the villa at the top of the hill, surrounded by Papi's sugar farm, she could see Portoprens awash with lights. After every other Selecao game, she could crack the window open and hear the cheering from this far.
Not tonight. All she heard was the breeze rushing, and the gentle creak of Papi's chair.

She padded to the immense oak front door, and pulled it open. Peering round, she saw the red end of Papi's cigar glowing. He glimpsed her, and beckoned her forward.
Papi was a towering man, with his grey beard, deep brown skin and dark as night eyes. He insisted on wearing fatigues, even so long after the war was over and the country whole again. To show he did his part, he said. Ella tiptoed over, he scooped her up and she cuddled up on his lap.

"Papi?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes dear one?"
"Will...will the people fight tonight?"
"No, no renmen mwen- they will cry together."
Ella thought for a moment, then turned her head upwards.
"Papi...after the fighting at Kap Ayisien...when...when you were captured..."
"...yes...it was a hard loss to take..."
"How did you come back? How could you do it again."
"I cared, my little starling. I cared about our people, about all people. Just like the team."
"What do you mean?"
"You saw Ettiene? Vasquez? Placide? Three languages, three skin colours, one grief. Because they cared so deelply. This is a hard one to take, sweet child. But defeat is part of life, battle, football. Do you know what happens after defeat?"
Ella nodded. "You come back to fight harder."
"Wi mwen zwazo ti kras mwen. And what happens when you fight harder?"
Ella turned towards the city in the distance. She could see the stadium, poking its roof out just above the rest on the little hill upon which it sat.

"You win."

[Linnuis]

Larnion 4-3 Linnuis (AET)

Well, here we go again. By now there's not a soul in our fair isle that doesn't know the outcome of the semi-final against Larnion. It feels like the last People's cup all over again: storming through the group stage only to fall short in the semis. The Estadio Dominica was completely packed to capacity for what proved to be a thrilling game for neutrals but ultimately disappointing for us.

This had so far been the best performance Larion had ever showed in international football, and going out to mighty Linnuis would have been no shame at all. The pressure was well and truly on the Linnuans to better their previous failure at the tournament and proceed to their first final since 2015.

The Trojans kicked off the game and flew at the Larnionians like mad dogs. In the 7th minute Morgan threaded the ball through to McDonald who broke clear of the defence, shimmied around the keeper and tapped the ball into the net. Barely a few minutes later Fitzroy let off a powerful shot but it was tipped over the bar for a corner by Naverrta. Hook sent the corner into the near post where Bassett headed it home in the 12th minute. With the pressure now lessened Linnuis took their foot off the gas and began to relax into a comfortable possession game. Larnion offered little fight for most of the first half.

At the start of the second half Linnuan fans were already beginning to party, utterly confident that they were headed to the final. However, the Larnion team of the second half was not the same one that appeared during the first. Instead they put incredible pressure on the Linnuan players who began to make mistakes whilst in possession. Eventually the pressure paid off as a Hill pass was intercepted and Larnion scored in the 51st minute. Larnion got yet another in the 60th levelling the game. The once partying crowds in Algar square were now silent. Memories of that tragic 3-0 defeat to Noladea came flooding back. Linnuis would not be denied. The squad rallied themselves and began to dominate possession once more. Larnion defended heroically: time and time again they shut down Linnuis' one touch passing streaks and intercepted wing to wing high balls. A lesser team would surely have crumbled within a few moments. Yet even they couldn't prevent everything. In the 84th minute Jones took the ball away from the advancing Ristal, and sent a long ball forward to Matthews. Matthews flew down the wing, beating two defenders and sent in a low cross to Hook who let off a cheeky backheel to Bassett who slammed the ball past the keeper. Every fan in Linnuis nearly exploded with joy, right from Dumnonia to the Arcaibh Islands. It seemed like a fairy tale, a new team, with a new style of play, writing the wrongs of the past. But it was not to be. Larnion simply refused to be defeated, they were completely unfazed by the situation and succeed in breaking down the Linnuan defence to level game for a second time.

The referee blew for full-time: 3-3. Neither the Linnuan fans nor the team could believe it. They'd thrown absolutely everything at Larnion and yet they simply refused to be beat. Linehan and Hargreves were brought on in place of Hill and Kinnaird in an attempt to inject energy back into the team. The first half of extra time passed without much action, both teams looking a little worse for ware. Then in the 111th minute, Larion broke the hearts of every Linnuan as they scored their fourth. The Trojans were desperate now. This couldn't possibly be happening again! In the 119th the referee ruled that Spherionii brought down McDonald unfairly in the box and awarded Linnuis a penalty. Almost the entirety of Linnuis fell silent as Bassett placed the ball on the spot, never once looking at the keeper. He fired a shot at the top right corner, but it was saved by a an athletic dive from Naverrta! Not long after the referee blew the first whistle.

The Linnuan team were dumbfounded. They had played like demons yet still lost. Bassett fell to the floor in tears knowing that this would be his final international tournament. The few Linnuan players who retained their composure swapped shirts with the Larnionians and congratulations their resolute opponents. Back in Algar square, the vast crowd of people were left desolate. Some cried, some screamed in anger, others simply walked home in silence. They had been denied a final place yet again.

Chapman said after the game: "I... I don't know what to say. The lads played their hearts out, but we were beaten by the better team. Larnion were hungrier. To coin a cliché, they had the eye of the tiger. They were phenomenal out there and I can see Yymea struggle against them in the final. All we can do now is prepare for our final game against Calfuego. It will definitely be a challenge to go up against the hosts but we'll welcome the challenge... as we always do."

So there we have it. Robbed of glory yet again. Two semi-final defeats in a row plus a runner-up finish in the short lived LCRUA league have lead Linnuis being christened the "nearly men" in recent headlines. Despite our defeat, the future looks bright for Linnuan football: many players in this team were young and inexperienced, and Chapman has only been manager for a few months. His brand of attacking, freeflowing football borders on total football at times as players often swap positions. This style of play takes a lot of getting used to, so no doubt in the coming tournaments our team will be much more settled and ready to bring the cup back to Linnuis.

[Larnion]

It was not a good morning for Tevesco by any means.
The headache induced by his phone going off before 5 AM was not enough to sink his spirits just yet, but the call that had woken him up succeeded in that aspect. Riotar Tomassa has done an exceptional job in his first outing in the national team, and was the key player in the final group clash against Folzofia, which ended in a draw. The match wasn't covered by the media as the previous ones due to the airing time conflicting with a major festival in the capital city - the advancement from group stages was barely mentioned in the evening news; however, the semi-finals were to be broadcasted live.

Thus, it was a major blow to the team manager's mood when he picked up the call. It turned out the midfielder had gone down with a fever and was in no shape of participating in the match. Tevesco gritted his teeth and slammed the phone in the sheets. This was not going to be an easy match.

About an hour before the venue started, the manager held the last briefing meetup with the squad. The boys have noticed that his predictions for the match are skeptical at best; it has been quite a while since the team last beat Linnuis, and half of the original team was gone by now, retired or incapacitated in one way or another... including the late star striker Drevio, who was supposed to be the driving force of Larnion on this cup. Not only he's been overshadowed by Psionyx so far, but he also had a little incident in a local bar, and spent the night in jail.
Needless to say, that helped neither his résumé nor his chances of playing the semi-finals.

As the players stretched before the starting whistle, Tevesco frowned. Only ten Larnioni were present on the pitch; he scolded the late arriving Spherionii as he rushed to his post. Two minutes later, scolding turned into curses as Nix was awarded a swift yellow card for a reckless tackle on Bassett.
"Remind me to smack him one at the half-time break. This kid, I swear to whatever god is listening, this kid will be my bane."
- "Come on, coach, the match barely started. He can net a hat-trick for all we know!"
- "Don't even imply you believe that. Putting aside the fact he's a stopper... He also looks like he's lost his head on the way here..." exclaimed the manager as the Linnuan offence left the young defender dead in his tracks and closed in on the goal. Seconds later, all that Tevesco was capable of was shaking his head in disbelief. McDonald's opened the score with a beautifully placed finesse shot that glided past Naverrta's hands. 1:0.

Ristal arrived to the sideline while the referees were busy preparing the kick-off. "Coach, it doesn't look too good with Morty. Been limping ever since he came together with that Trojan defender a few ago."
Tevesco's frown deepened so much his eyes were now buried somewhere under his thick eyebrows. It looked... somewhat comically. "Bring him in, then. We can't risk running him today if he won't be good for the last match."

So the Larnioni were down by one, lost their best scorer and earned a yellow card, all within the first ten minutes. Things were not looking well so far, but the best was yet to come - as Bassett conquered the helpless Naverrta with a brilliant header, the Larnioni coach was seen throwing a water bottle in the general direction of the reserve squad and team staff; after a warning from the head referee, he was approached by the goalkeeper coach, who returned to him the projectile, looking less than amused as a black eye formed on his face. It was not Tevesco's proudest moment. 2:0.
For the rest of the half, the coach didn't even bother looking at the pitch; having had instructed the assistant to call strategies for him while he regains his composure. A late post hit right before the whistle has seen the players come into the cabin frustrated on top of their general dissatisfaction; Spherionii carried a memento on his right cheek from his quick confrontation with the manager. He then followed the team into the locker room, and began his assessment.
---
If the Larnioni looked frustrated before they entered the facilities, upon returning to the grass turf, they looked like they were all ready to take the first taxi to the hotel. Tevesco impatiently tapped his shoe on the sideline, awaiting the beginning of the second half. On the bench for reserves next to him sat an irritated Fleren. His match time was prematurely ended, as the 17-year-old débutant Trobadan took his place. The coach smirked at the sight of the youngster beaming left, right and centre in the midfield, almost running circles around the Linnuans whenever they got to the ball. He knew what he was doing down there.

The voices of the fans of the Trojans were finally silenced when the Larnioni fans burst into celebration. Naverrta's exceptionally long goal kick found the head of Lomaco, who managed to forward the ball to Ristal on the wing. Despite running towards the penalty box from out wide, everyone expected him to centre - and in that moment he curved the ball from roughly fifteen metres and a spectacularly tight angle, netting a solid highlight behind the back of the shocked keeper. 2:1. The rest of the players that still hasn't quite woken up from their half-time lethargy has finally come alive after this surprise strike, and suddenly, the Linnuans had no space to breathe. Finally, Tevesco had a reason to smile again. His headache might have not gone away yet, but seeing Carquá send that delicious through ball to Trobadan, who expertly humiliated Lloyd with a shot between the goaltender's legs deserved that reaction. 2:2.

Clearly, the Trojans refused to take that from the Larnioni squad, and began pushing back. And then, out of the blue, despite the defence being shut as tight as it could, came a punishment for a rather unfortunate error. Ristal had slipped on the damp grass while trying to squeeze between two Linnuans. This counterattack caught the stoppers napping, and before they could react, a stellar pass from Hook has seen the red-and-black clad fans in the stands erupt yet again. 3:2.

Whatmore, Ristal did not seem to be standing up from his misshap; Tevesco certainly did not wish to have two players out for the final. He called for the winger to come to the bench. Turned out it was just a cramp, but the coach sent in Stavelot in his stead anyway. "One quick mid has caused them lots, so let's see how they keep up with two of the kind," he thought... and the risk paid off.
One minute into stoppage time, a slight mistake in combination has seen Traether send the ball wide to Stavelot, who immediately cut back and delivered the spherical package to Lomaco in the hole. The striker faked a shot, darted past the two stoppers, and in a showdown of perfect sync, sent the ball to the left to Trobadan coming from out wide to the box who instantly send the ball across the penalty box and inches out of reach of the keeper to Stavelot on the other side, who performed the same maneuvre as his colleague on the other wing, comfortably tucking the ball into the empty net and sending the game into the extra time. 3:3.
Tevesco let out a sigh of relief, his forehead drenched in sweat. That was a minute to midnight.
---
"You know what to do."
A single sentence followed by dull steps and an infinitely long silence resonated in the lockers. The coach did not need to say anything else. So, as the referee blew his whistle to start the overtime, the dice were rolled. Cautious for the first half, then all out attack in the second; that was the usual bread for Tevesco when he played under his league team manager Razia. A strategy that was ever since rendered obsolete, or so they said. However, when Larnion stormed the Trojans' defence after the sides switched, when Montaré gained a corner kick after his 70-metre long run with the ball, when Lomaco curled the ball in the box and when Traether fired the deflected ball into the top left corner of Lloyd's goal, the manager knew different. Finally, his signature grin creeped up on his face, as the fans and players cheered alike. 3:4.

That said and done, it was everything but long-lasting, as the game was still far from over. Tevesco knew how much time can nine minutes be, and so he ordered the squad to do the one thing he hated the most: barricade the penalty box, and guard the goal at all costs. The clocks ticking, Trojans losing hope with every passing second despite their best efforts, an offside there, a last moment dive of a defender there. Then, the whistle. Instead of relief, however, the feeling that came was dread.
Second and out. Spherionii could not think straight at the moment, his petrified teammates staring absentmindedly into the crowd.

It's a penalty.
Coriolis Tevesco, aged 58, never cared too much about the rules, and as he walked across the pitch to stop in front of the completely stunned culprit, he simply laid an arm around his shoulders, shut out the outside world including the yelling referee that banished him from the pitch for the rest of the match, and with a round of applause from the Larnioni fans calmly guided Nix to the locker room. From then on, he could only guess what was about to unfold on the grassy battlefield that was the stadium, but remained at peace. He believed in his boys.
The stands went silent. Ball on the mark, heart pounding. Now or never, both teams knew that very well.

The foot struck the ball dead in the centre. The bated breaths of thousands of fans rendered the field completely soundless, and then... an outstanding leap, Maxio Naverrta tagged the ball with his fingertips, slightly altering its trajectory. Brushing the left post, half of the fans went absolutely berserk with elation while the other could not utter a word. The ball went out.
All that remained was the last corner kick, and the match concluded. The failed penalty sent the Trojans over the edge; the corner was a formality for the defenders. Tears rolled on both sides - of happiness and pride on one, of disappointment and bitterness on the other. Tevesco heard the stadium explode in sheer emotion, slightly muffled in the viscera of the stadium, but hearing the cheers he could never mistake, he closed his eyes. The team has already rewritten history.
---
Linnuis 3 - 4 Larnion (OT) (McDonald 7', Bassett 12' 84' - Ristal 51', Trobadan 60', Stavelot 90+1', Traether 111')

[Calfuego and Baja-Janerio]

Stade de Kap Ayisyen

Calfuego & Baja-Janerio 3 (Ettiene 52 & 79, Placide 90+2)
Linnuis 2 (29, 44)

The Selecao staged a dramatic and remarkable comeback to secure third place in the LCRUA Championship over Linnuis.

Things didn't start well in Kap Ayisyen for the hosts, who were clearly still struggling to overcome their emotional semi-final defeat. The Trojans, who had lost in even more dramatic fashion on Wednesday, seemed to be determined to restore pride and dominated the first half.
Their goal after 29 minutes was well deserved, and the Selecao struggled to create anything in the way of opportunities for an equaliser. Things got worse when Linnuis doubled their lead just before halftime, to audible groans around the stadium.

Whatever Charles Jackson said to his team at halftime, however, appeared to work. The Selecao roared back in the early second half, dominating and peppering the Linnuisian goalkeeper with shots. Derrick Ettiene hauled his side back into the game on 52 minutes, when a clever passing move with Vasquez allowed him to slip the offside trap and slot home from 8 yards.
The Trojans were quick to recover their shape and composure, however, and severely restricted the opportunities for the hosts to grab the equaliser.

The equaliser did eventually come on 79 minutes, when a looping shot from Ettiene bounced awkwardly in front of the keeper who could only watch on helpless as he dived the wrong way and the ball trundled into the net. The blue and gold clad supporters roared as their team pushed for the unlikliest of winners.
With time running out and extra time looming, the Selecao won a corner. Everyone including Johnny Placide the goalkeeper flooded the Trojans box. And it was Placide who in fact rose highest to connect with Donatello dos Santos Jnr's cross, heading it beyond the sprawling goalkeeper and sparking wild celebrations.

The Selecao will finish as second runners up in this tournament, a fantastic result reflective of the incredible performaces the players put in.
Charles Jackson when interviewed stated "we were largely underestimated and unknown before this tournament...never again, though. Next time we go in as the third ranking team in the region and no one will doubt our capability to go all the way. We have a young side which has proven itself. They've done me proud, they've done themselves proud, and they've done this wonderful country proud."

[Linnuis]

Calfuego and Baja-Janerio 3-2 Linnuis


The hosts have performed above and beyond all expectations for this tournament and the prospect of playing them in front of a hostile home crowd filled few of us with anything but dread. The team was determined to restore some pride after the most painful semi-final exit imaginable.

Linnuis started strong keeping possession well and moving the ball around with ease. In the 29th some lovely interplay between Hook and Matthews led to Matthews breaking through the defence and slotting the ball into the net. Just before half-time in the 44th, Morgan dipped a lovely free-kick over the wall beating the keeper with ease and silencing the Kap Ayisyen.

However, once the second half started things began to go wrong. A mistimed tackle from Flores left Jones unable to continue. It rapidly became apparent that Jones was the lynchpin of the Linnuan defence as the Selacao ripped the Linnuan defence apart as Ettiene neatly put the ball past Lloyd in the 52nd. Although Linnuis regained some of their composure, they couldn't capitalise on any of their chances as Bassett looked uncharacteristically lacklustre - no doubt broken by the last game. He was eventually replaced by St. John. Without their star striker and defensive lynchpin Linnuis simply lacked the class to hold the opposition back, as the Selecao equalised in the 79th with another goal from Ettiene. It appeared as though the Trojans, who had run themselves ragged throughout this tournament, would be going into extra time yet again. All they had to do was defend one last stoppage time corner. The Selecao packed the box with literally every player they had, even Placide, the goalkeeper. Marking a full 11 at once proved too much for the Trojans as Placide himself headed the ball past Lloyd in the 90+2nd minute. The crowd was deafening and Linnuis were robbed in the dying moments once again. The Linnuan team applauded their own tearful fans and bowed to the home fans before vacating the field to the victorious Selecao.

Now that we have played our final part in the tournament all our thoughts begin to turn towards the next cup. Will we break our semi-final curse, or fall like lead balloon once more? Before we sulk in our defeat too much though we're reminded that the biggest game of all still remains. Who will win: Larnion, the team who knocked us out, or Yymea, who have only lost to us? Only time will tell.

[Yymea]

Yymea 2-1 Larnion

Yymea: Ils Kgiglmbil, '63, Ishhil Msujilj, '90+3
Larnion: '28

Ilake Jike sat in his favourite stool of his favourite bar, cup of white wine in his hand, sipping slowly as he looked at the telly. Neighbours, strangers and ragtag Yymeans huddled up to the small screen, tensed up and craving victory, brothered with their fellow Yymeans at Calfuego. A young man with dyed hair started praying to Eki with eyes closed and bated breath. Ilake munched on his peanuts, and thought so slowly of the past. Around him he felt a wave of emotion, hope, expectation and fear. He didn't care much for it. For Ilake there was only one rule in the universe, football was always the same, only good when the ball rolled around the field.

Baji Uke wrung her hands. Her mother had always scolded her as a child for that bad habit of hers, and it had almost been drilled into her skull to avoid it. Almost, as when tension was ripe and blooming she tied up her fingers around and around themselves in those awful repetitive circles. Her daughter looked on, sporting the colours of the Yymean team and jumping without moving a muscle. The match was about to start. The final.

Ishhil Msujilj finished singing the last words of the Yymean anthem, and as the column of Yymeans broke up and everyone headed to their positions, he glanced at the trophy. It rested elegantly in a glass case, sporting two ribbons, one yellow and red, another red white and green. The stadium was swarming with fans, the kits of Larnion and Yymea clashing up high. The Yymean defender felt as if he was floating in a dream. They'd got this far. Every Yymean had counted on them, cheered them on. And now, as Ishhil Msujilj sat down heavily on the bench, and the referee put the whistle to his lips, they could only afford to win.

Ilku clapped loudly and hooted as soon as the big match kicked off, waking Ki, who had fallen asleep on his lap. Ki groaned, stretched a bit, looked at Ilku, yawned and fell back asleep. Ilku knew all the extra work he had put this week was worth it as he felt the excitement of the match fill him. Larnion played swiftly and masterfully, while Yymea played carefully at first, stopping any Larnioni offence straight in its tracks. Larnion had an initial edge, but they just couldn't seem to wield it under the pressure of the Yymean defence. That is, until minute 28.

The entire square fell silent as in the giant screen the image of an exalted, celebrating Larnioni continued to grow. As Aini and Ile looked forward glumly, slacked over, Oila got up, almost jumping forward, put her hands to her mouth, and

"Fuck off and keep shouting!"

Not many actually heard her, but the few heads that turned back cheered up a bit. Aini and Ile shot up straight, and shouted on weakly, but shouted.

Ilake took a long sip of his wine. He insisted on doing nothing elegantly but drinking the cheap white wine he loved so much. He shoved his hand into his bag and happily chowed on his peanuts. He was enjoying himself like a child, now this was good football. Yymea hadn't backed down after the Larnioni goal, in fact, they had broken the spell of domination the red and yellow team had put over the first thirty minutes of the match. Yymea seemed to slowly gain an edge over the competition, but could they score?

"BUJDIL! BUJDIL! COME OOOON!"

Baji's daughter screamed at the top of her lungs, scaring an old man in the seat in front of her, as Bujdil stood in front of the goal, shot, aiming for the corner, and was promptly thwarted by a mighty leap from Maxio Naverrta. Baji didn't move a muscle, eyes glued to the field, waiting for the Yymean attack that would break the Larnioni camel's back. The clock was moving further and further towards the 45 minute mark, and Larnion would go into the second half one goal ahead.

The whistle blew, and Ishhil Msujilj got up heavily from the bench and headed over to the changing rooms. The team was silent. They had to score. Every mind in the team was chugging along trying to think about how exactly to get Yymea the thirsted goal. Once they got inside the room, they sat around Il Mrugjikla, towering above everyone despite his 160cm height.

"Huh, so you expect me to say something? Just talk to yourselves, come on. You want to win. Everyone wants us to win. Lets just work together and win, I'm not going to spout some patriotic yappertalk. Good luck, I'll speak with some of you in a minute, just wait"

And everyone did talk to themselves. It wasn't a good speech in any way, shape or form, but it was doing its job. Il Mrugjikla craved to play.

Ilku chugged his tomato juice from a transparent measuring cup, placing it on a glass holder they'd brought from their trip to the Salomonistic States last year. It was a happy memory. Ilku hoped this would be one too. Iku had gone out to stock up on plates, as an accident in the kitchen had made them run out and the local assembly was almost famously slow negotiating imports. The match was starting up again, and as the referee blew his whistle, Ilku could tell that Yymea was playing with renewed energy. Although Larnion put up powerful attacks with their fluid, aggresive, style of play, Yymea put up huge pressure whenever their rival team held the ball, and Larnioni fans started looking anxiously at the clock, hoping that time killed an Yymean victory. However, before even getting halfway through the second half, Yymea struck.

Minute 63, the clock in the top left half of the screen said so, next to the cursed 0-1. Il Ilgig suddenly kicked the ball up in the air. It plummeted from the sky, it wasn't a fit of madness, it was an ambitious pass which paid off, as the ball fell right to the feet of striker Ils Kgiglmbil. Ils ran forward, outrunning a momentarily disorganized Larnioni defence, and finding himself face to face with the goalkeeper. Silence. Oila huffed loudly. The Yymean almost casually shot at the net, avoiding the keeper and slipping the ball into the net. Aini and Ile shouted their lungs out, Oila slumped over in satisfaction and the square exploded. But more was to come.

Back at the bar, Ilake raised his glass a little bit, and wet his lips with the bland bitter taste of the drink. Everyone around him had riled up in fits of clapping and hooting, but if he was being honest, he didn't really care who won. He just felt happy as he was, nostalgic too. He was reliving things, things that remained from a more comforting time. It was nice, he thought as Yymea repelled a Larnioni attack, and proceeded to attempt a counterattack. It didn't work, it didn't matter.

Baji and her daughter had cheered up a lot since the goal, and the sentiment was felt among the entire Yymean side of the stadium. Throughout the match both factions of fans had competed to be as loud as humanly possible, and it had been fierce. The Yymeans had superior numbers, but the Larnioni were passionate to the core, and wore their throats out in support of their team. However, in the field things started getting slow, Yymea changed up a defender and put up Ishhil Msujilj in their place, but nothing significant seemed to happen, only fruitless attack after fruitless attack. In a last moment gambit, with the clock begging for extra time, Ail and Bujdil engineered a movement forward, giving a decent opportunity to the striker. The Yymeans groaned with frustration as the ball was deflected by the Larnioni goalie. It was a corner.

Ishhil Msujilj was sure the match would go to extra time. Or at least he thought he was, as he exchanged stares with Bujdil, who would actually kick the corner himself. This would be the last opportunity the Yymeans had to score before the referee blew his whistle once again. He was covered by a Larnioni shorter and less bulky than him. He looked at Bujdil once again. An instant passed. They both knew what to do. Time paused. Bujdil kicked, and the ball crossed the air at unbeliavable speed. Ishhil jumped so slowly, his legs propelling him upwards and upwards, and then, at just the right instant, his skull moved forward, colliding with the Bujdil's projectile and shooting just past the fingers of Maxio, deep into the net. It was 90+3, and the entire universe collapsed around him as he fell to the grass. The only thing that existed was a whistle.

Ilku propelled himself out of his seat, sliding on his knees like a mock rockstar and shaking his fists, while Iku looked at him fondly.

Aini, Ilne and Oila hugged in circles, in a flurry of joy and muffled celebration, just above the exalted shouting of the crowd.

As the bar thundered on, Ilake Jike sat back, now empty glass still in his hand, and just said what he felt,

"Good game"

Baji Uke and her daughter were parte of what must have been the loudest sound in the world, they hugged close together in the middle of their celebration, and let the joy of Yymea wash over them. They couldn't believe it.

And as the ceremonies passed through his life like unreal ghosts, Ishhil wondered if he would ever even snap out, his face of awe, shock and amusement on as a medal was put over his neck by an important Calfuegan politician, handshake, handshake, handshake, was that Ilgi Akun? and handshake. The trophy was right there. He would actually be raising it. And he did, smiling, Kgiglmbil, Aili, and Bujdil by his side.

All was good.