World Cup 87 - RP Thread

[Zwangzug]

The Bassabook Baritone

And, exhale.

Zwangzug finished second in their World Cup 87 qualifying group, behind Savojarna but ahead of contenders Netop and Saint-Domingue. All told, this along with other groups was a perfectly respectable showing, displaying both the consistency and endurance of the seasoned Zwangzug side and the drama and excitement that makes international football so intense. Zwangzug will face Terre Septentrionale, who finished second to a dominant Brenecia side in Group 2, during the two-legged playoffs. The first game is set to be played in Wayr Stadium.

Fans have the tiebreakers to thank that Kate DiMarini will not be facing her old friends and rivals in Baker Park, who were the fourth-best of the runners-up. DiMarini has returned the virtual greetings to the Commonwealth players who wished her well prior to the matchday eighteen encounter. An unofficial straw poll of my friends suggests most fans here will be supporting Baker Park in their playoff out of solidarity for DiMarini and perhaps a desire for moderate stability worldwide after the tumult that was qualifying; a dissenting opinion was provided by my buddy Steve who said that San Ortelio have a goalkeeper with a harrowing backstory and he feels kinda sorry for the guy.

In other news:

-Temporal paradoxes have been averted as random federation bureaucrat Ashley Spencer pronounced the multiplicity of Juan Tzimisces-es "none of our business." "We recognize it can be unsettling to have one's national history altered or future predetermined by the retroactive or premature appearance of a temporally unbound footballing genius," she said, "and we intend to avoid this dilemma by cunningly avoiding any such inconsistencies. In fact, we could go one better and not bother with much of a unified national history at all, thus avoiding both timeline shenanigans and the oppressive sense of collective shame. You know, just to be on the safe side."

-Three Qusma student-athletes in Zwangzug colleges have opened a business to showcase their wares, thus displaying more respect for free enterprise and graphic design than the rest of the country combined.

-Shoutouts to the Sporting News Kalactin regional simulation that featured such "implausible" results as...Geektopia topping a group where Zwangzug struggled to pick up points against Saint-Domingue and Hafamarimet. Okay then.

-My editors asked me to give a hot take on the FFI and their use of diacritics. To which I say, I personally am not a fan of them, but I guess I'll put up with them because I'm not the one in charge. (The diacritics. Not my editors. Probably.)

(Idmar 46, Cherenkov-Nguyen 50)

[Chromatika]

By: Jordan Lawless, Chief Sports Correspondent

150,000 NMS WC 87 Qualifiers Playoffs Prediction Contest

As Predicted by Our International Audience:
San Ortelio vs. Commonwealth of Baker Park: 2-11
Zwangzug vs. Tere Septentrionale: 13-0
South Covello vs. The Holy Empire: 1-12
New Lusitania vs. Quebec: 2-11
Poafmersia vs. Omerica: 11-2
Siovanija & Teusland vs. TJUN-ia: 10-3
Reçueçn vs. Pasarga: 0-13
Huayramarca vs. Tikariot: 1-12

San Ortelio: Lükækš Væñøœrëñbérghüïś of Vdara and Stefan Henriksson of Tikariot
South Covello: Alanso Koute of Banija
New Lusitania: Jeremiah McFakename of Audioslavia and Lunaro Tsukida of Ko-oren
Omerica: Alanso Koute of Banija and Adrian Toscani of Savigliane
TJUN-ia: Tammy Brae of Tumbra, Jabik Henderson of Poafmersia, and Joseph Samuel of TJUN-ia
Huayramarca: Adrian Toscani of Savigliane
Other notables: We of The Rebel didn't expect any predicted loser to have more than three votes. We also didn't expect Zwangzug and Pasarga to be voted unanimously.

As for The Rebel, I invited Shelby Aarling to return and invited Erika Morningstar from Urrheddiao to come and predict along with us.

Shelby picked South Covello, New Lusitania, Omerica, and Huayramarca in overtime, Erika leaned toward TJUN-ia and Reçueçn, and I stuck with more of the traditional picks.

Who's excited for them Playoffs?

[PotatoFarmers]

Previous RP [Chapter 3 Part 10]

RP Series: Getting to the top
Chapter 4: Can we finally get a different ending?
Part 1: Omerica

90 minutes. 1 match. It was just to grab as many points as possible to boost the rankings of Poafmersia based on the KPB coefficients, and also, to avenge the 5-0 trashing 9 matchdays ago where Poafmersia was beaten in Farfadillis. Adnan Suliaha made a pre-match speech to the players, to ask them to give it their 100%. He told them that honor was at stake here, not to mention the potential carrot of a free ticket to the World Cup if result went their way. "It is about us making a statement, it is about us trying to prove that this is the Poafmersian team that won the IAC twice. It is about telling whoever we might potentially face in the playoffs that we are capable of stealing the playoffs from them."

Whatever happened in that 90 minutes didn't matter. All I can say is that the Red Panjias made a statement. And they gave it their all, trying their best to break down Farfadillis. Even if the opponents belong to a totally different class. Even if the team playing today isn't exactly Poafmersia's best team in their 7 years of international football history. Nothing matters. The unbeaten home record is protected, and the team has not lost at home every since the match 2 years ago against The Holy Empire. Some information to take note of against whoever will be our playoff opponents.

Slowly but surely, the final whistles everywhere in the multiverse are blowing. Some matches begun slightly earlier, others slightly later. But as every match comes to a finish, the picture of who is in the playoffs becomes more clear. Chromatika won their match - that is direct qualification for them. Kelssek won their match - again, direct qualification. Then slowly, everything came here and again. Then the hosts had to host an official "coin flip" ceremony to decide the play-offs order after the 16 teams in the playoffs were confirmed. Then it became clear who Poafmersia was facing - Omerica. Omerica. The team who qualified back in World Cup 74, won 1 game and was eliminated. The team who won the IAC 7, after being silver medalists the cycle before. But it was clear that this playoff would be a slug fest, between 2 teams similar in terms of football levels (or not, you decide for yourself), and between 2 nations aiming to make a statement by making the World Cup (again, in the case of Omerica).

Somehow, after 7 years, the story of Poafmersia in international football has became really connected. In the first cycle, Poafmersia started in Zwangzug and Timuria, where they played in the Baptism of Fire, but only managed to clinch bronze medal after losing to eventual winners Trolleborg in the semifinals. We talk about the leftover active teams from that Baptism of Fire. Trolleborg, after qualifying last cycle, qualified in the most controversial manner this time, requiring a coin flip to get first place ahead of The Holy Empire, the team who was in our group last cycle, with both teams level by points, head-to-head record, and goal difference after 18 matches. Plane of Possibility, another team who was in our Baptism of Fire and still active, had a really good run, falling on the last few match days to better teams. TJUN-ia will play Siovanija & Teusland in the playoffs. And there is us. Of course, some would consider Vdara, a team that debuted in the same World Cup Qualifiers as us, a member of our batch. They qualified ahead of Baker Park.

Now hold that thought. Baker Park, together with Cassadaigua, were the hosts of the first World Cup. They organised the group draw, and gave us a really brilliant group which we ended being third in, behind, Siovanija & Teusland (the team that TJUN-ia is facing) and Nephara. Now both Baker Park and Cassadaigua are the ones fighting to host the Cup of Harmony, alongside their junior bidders, and if Poafmersia does not make it past the playoffs, it would likely be an invitation from either of them to their Cup of Harmony. World Cup 85 was held by Farfadillis (the team we just faced at Libira) and Mriin. That cycle, we drew a ridiculous group which included Quebec, Filindostan, Brenecia, Reçueçn, and Damukuni. We ended being 5th in that group, and went to the Cup of Harmony where we played in Kelssek and Zwangzug. Yes Zwangzug. Back then, we said that it was the time where we were returning to the place where it all started, and we ran to the Round of 16, losing to eventual bronze medalists Mercedini. To date, that would be our best performance yet.

Have we played them yet? Yes we did, in IAC 9. That competition, we defeated Zwangzug, Abanhfleft, Drawkland, on our way to the semifinals, where we lost to eventual winners New Lusitania, who are also playing in the playoffs this time against Quebec. (Looks familiar?) In the 78th Cup of Harmony, we had to travel to Ethane, our current World Cup hosts. So it would definitely be a dream to go to Ethane once again, this time, to play in the World Cup, and not the Cup of Harmony. But we digress. The important line would be the IAC, where we lifted our first 2 trophies on the international stage. IAC 10, where we defeated Abanhfleft in the group stage, Squornshelan Remnant States (a familiar opponent by now), and then HUElavia, hosts of IAC 9, to lift our first trophy. And it was in Omerica.

Returning to a place which holds special memories in Poafmersia's international football history. Once again. Maybe it is just that the number of football teams is that many. Actually, that isn't true but we just keep meeting the same ones over and over again. Poafmersia will travel to Omerica for the second leg of the playoffs, fighting for a ticket to Ethane and Taeshan to attempt a good performance at the "cup that everyone wants". The team now looks different, the target different, but the motivation Poafmersia always has is there - to make a name for themselves, and join the world's best teams at the World Cup.

2 matches left. First, it will be at home, in front of our fans, in Fiskadaha.

Poafmersia 2
Shakira Handris 39'
Joel Haodao 80'

Farfadillis 2
Edmün Çídh 17', 64'

Lineup for Poafmersia (3-4-3): Sandi Jaliaha; Nasri Sanchez, Mitchel Rosales, Alex Hoboson; Dargis Walshor, Gisiik Moonar, Daas Taisg, Monesty Erdos; Joel Haodao, Shakira Handris (c), Pete Carisa
Substitutes: Whitney Rios (Erdos 60')

[Garbelia]

How well did we actually do?
By Norvis FC legend, Edward Ottero

In all fairness, we actually exceeded expectations. An opening-day thrashing to Pluvia and the Saxean Isles had fans pessimistic, but we clawed it back, putting up a good fight everywhere we went (except South Covello) and earning two more points than the 12 that Arthur Goodotter predicted, with results over Baggieland, Pluvia and the Saxean Isles and Sett Forest to form a very good debut campaign. The team underperformed at Quemorr Isles, and would have finished 6th if they hadn't suffered a 0-0 draw and 1-0 loss where wins were expected. Overall, a better attempt than predicted.

In other news:

• Samantha Van Middleburg has recovered from the injury she sustained shortly after Garbelia's second match. Lutra Scratchington will be returning to a retirement presenting this podcast, the 40-year-old having been the team's third highest scorer, and possibly in contention for cover in future tournaments.
• The Garvida Chess Championships draw takes place today, the 100 year old competition being opened to foreign competitors for the first time.
• The Garbelery international cricket team is playing warm-ups against Farbelia today, in preparation for the GCF ODI World Trophy.

This is the final episode of View from Venjolath Road, the iconic podcast covering Garbelia's World Cup 87 journey. Lutra Scratchington will return presenting Series 2 at Garbelia's next competition. For more podcasts like this, try The Revealed Check, a podcast covering Garbelery chess, or Covers: A cricketing journey, bringing coverage of Garbelery cricket.

[San Ortelio]

Francesco Calcaterra tried not to be ogling the various short-skirted starlets which passed by his car. Let me rephrase that. Francesco Calcaterra tried not to look as if he was ogling the various short-skirted starlets which passed by his car. Wait, that only makes it worse. Then again, if he would not have had other things to worry about extensively, the thought of being considered as a terrible pervert might have crossed his mind continuously throughout the last few evenings. Or what other types sit in a dim lit car on the parking lot of a nightclub for a few hours, trying to make the wait less awful with a few snacks before heading home again without stepping out?

By now, Francesco felt as if he was sitting here out of frustration and impotence rather than conducting a serious research. The sight of the angel tattoo across the chest of Stefano L. - as the audience knew him - or Stefano Lanza - as the record had him written up - had set things in motion for him. That very evening, he had mumbled something about an emergency to his wife despite not being on duty and sped off to the office. The guy at reception had looked him up and down a little, but a few searches later, he had found what he needed. Luckily, the night crew that had handled the double murder came in just as he was about to leave, giving him some more details, but not the answers he wanted.

About fifteen minutes later, Francesco had turned up at the door of a penthouse. There wasn’t a name on the doorbell which indicated Lanza lived, or rather had lived, there. Moreover, one could not tell he occupied it alone from the outside. A little push swung open the door, indicating he was already too late. The content of cupboards had been spread across the floor as if a destructive toddler had been given free reign. But it were the bloodstains on the bedroom wall that worried him more. However, time to comb out the penthouse was scarce - he might have put the night crew on the wrong foot for a second with a false address (“Sorry guys, typo!”) but they would storm in any time now. And after all, he was too late.

Valeria.

Initially, he feared for her life with the marks on the wall giving him the chills. But on the ride home it hit him that whilst clothes had been sprayed across the bed, it were all button shirts, jeans and chinos - not a single item of women’s clothing. Always two steps ahead of you, Francesco mused. However, as clever as she might be, Francesco still considered her to be in life peril. She wouldn’t be the one to whack two mobsters, he thought. He hoped.

In the week after, he had tried to entangle all information, but there was little to go by - either there was little evidence or, an option he pushed to the back of his mind, she had shrewdly wiped all traces. It rubbed him the wrong way that he knew he was a pawn in some play, but that he couldn’t tell who was the puppet master. Even if Valeria had had her hand at the buttons at some point, he knew things had gone south for her and… He couldn’t explain why he needed answers. Closure, that was his current hypothesis.

And Francesco had had plenty of time to think about it. Running out of options, he eventually decided to return to the place which seemed to ooze answers, IlRocca. For a week now, he had placed his car in the most unsuspicious corner of the parking lot, hoping for… Well, initially, he had hoped for a miracle, an epiphany. That she would open the passenger’s door, give a comment about the lame pop music playing and that they would have a chuckle together. But this had been replaced by a far more realistic guest and Francesco now tried to eye every car which drove up, hoping for the fiery red Gianculasi. If he came in time, he had a clean sight of the designated spot with the GDP10 license plate sign.

It looked desperate, ambushing your personal hero during his night off, trying to poke him about a potential criminal track record - yeah I’m a cop but I don’t want to arrest you for it, just tell me where my disappeared colleague could… Eight nights in and Francesco still had not figured out what on earth he would do if he could confront Del Prete.

Eight remarkably chilly nights with the company of a thermos of hot coffee and a family pack of chicken nuggets - he got to the point where he wondered whether he actually liked them or that they were a social construct, always a worrying thought about your favorite food. Maybe this all was no use, Francesco thought around two o’clock as he backed out after another fruitless night. All this waiting was getting on his nerves. The only minor comfort was that he could skip a night or two of duty from now on. After all, tomorrow was the night before the clash against Baker Park - a David versus Goliath fixture as there ever had been. He wouldn’t be in here so close to the most crucial game of his career?

SEVEN DAYS EARLIER

“Then I lose two sons in a week.”
“Well… Then I’m afraid there are no Lanza’s anymore.”

Enrico Lanzafame’s hand had trembled as he had put down the phone, trying to process the wording used by his own mother. All of this because he refused to go to the funeral. The conviction grew in the slipstream of the victorious Sannyamathland game. But he’s still your brother. Well, that’s the point, mum, he no longer was. Stefano was not like him and vice versa, they both chose their path. It was a mantra Enrico told himself for a week or two, one where he would show determination and strong will. He would chose the tough road, breaking definitely with his past and-

And still he stood there.

The sun mocked the mourners as they gathered around the coffin. His father looked an inch shorter, with his shoulders crooked and a black coat. Part of Enrico had expected his mother to be torn apart, with the loud lamenting which you saw in Ortelian television shows where a woman needs to bury her own son. But she stood tall, a strong shield against the few journalists which had gathered in a small huddle outside the gate of the cemetery. Still, Enrico could see the tear rolling down her cheek or at least, that’s what he imagined from this distance. A decent crowd had amassed, he recognised silent uncles and crying nieces, forgotten friends and honourable members of the society, shoulder by shoulder. For some reason, it kind of hurt him to see Gianni from the taverno there - an indication that today, a ‘big man’ of the community got returned to his maker.

It was a closed group and Enrico stood apart. Outside the circle, under a willow on a slightly higher ground, Enrico could see the priest mumble the final words - he didn’t need to stand near to imagine the wordings used. He cursed himself for caving in and going as the experience hurt - but not for the reasons expected. Initially, he had feared that he would become overwhelmed with sorrow. That the memories of people pointing fingers to him for Stefano’s crime, or the dark gummy boots kicking his stomach on a cold Brenecian pier, would suddenly get replaced by the days when they kicked the ball around in a dead-end street or pointed to people on the sidewalk to egg whilst sitting high and dry in their small bedroom window.

It was a different feeling which attacked his tear ducts. Enrico had chosen the straight road, the honest one, the hard one. Working his way up in the ranks, turning a talent into a gift - a gift to the people. Yesterday had been a bombardment, with the Gouvanarch side trampling a nervous San Ortelian outfit in the first forty-five minutes. Yet, Enrico had kept his composure and managed to divert any danger coming his way. The kind of performance that topped off a streak as fifth best defense in the whole qualifiers, some statistician had shared in the news, and more importantly one that had sent the Swordfishes to the World Cup play-offs, a seemingly impossible achievement for a side of their stature.

And still. A crowd grieved for a convicted murderer and he stood here alone, as if his pestilence was showing. Enrico wanted to run, but refused to admit this defeat.

After the final words from the priest, the people dispersed, probably to Gianni’s taverno. Enrico could not help but note the absence from Mario Fancelli, but didn’t think much about it. Some of them looked at him, shortly, like toddlers who had been told not to stare but couldn’t resist the temptation. Some hawked as if passing by a particularly spectacular car collision. Mother looked straight ahead and none uttered a word to him. As the cemetery looked nearly empty, Enrico considered whether he could make it to his car without any awkward near-passes but while contemplating his odds, one woman walked up to him.

She wore a black hood in the style of old widows, something which only accentuated the paleness of her face and nearly blended with the head of thick, black hair. There were dark circles around her eyes and Enrico couldn’t tell if she had just appeared or whether she had been part of the group of mourners.

“My condolences,” she uttered.
“Likewise,” he replied, before realizing that he had no clue who he was talking to.

For about a minute they stood there, in a silence only perforated by the municipal employees shoveling the earth back in place.

“The priest said that death possesses all answers,” the woman spoke as if it was a regular throwaway remark.
“Sounds simple,” Enrico sighed, “if you believe it. I’m left with questions.”
“The answers are always there - you just haven’t stumbled upon them yet,” came the reply and Enrico shortly wondered whether he was hallucinating.

A short but warm touch to his hand answered at least that question.

“I’m sorry. Not just for your loss. You deserved… Better. Maybe we all did, but only you had no chance to really choose for it.”

To any casual bystander, it would have sounded like nonsense but somehow, it hit home for Enrico and suddenly, tears started to flow. Months of fear, anger, frustration and sorrow suddenly flowed over, just over someone offering a second of consolation.

“I’m really sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s ok,” Enrico sniffed, if only because he had no idea what the appropriate reply could be. He wasn’t ok, of course, he was a bag of misery but at the same time he felt relieved as never before. As such, he was nailed to the ground when she stepped away but in a reflex, he grabbed her black coat.
“You… You know…” Enrico tried to construct a sentence from the one hundred sentiments running through his mind, “you know more?”
“I can’t give you answers,” she startled and tore herself away.

With two quick steps, she raced to the exit but before she vanished in thin air, she turned around one more time and spoke, soft but very clear.

“But there might be in IlRocca.”

ONE DAY LATER

Half an hour had passed and they had not spoken a single word. They did not need a single word as their bodies expressed the caring affection they held for one another.

I can’t come to you anymore
But I also realised it’s all I want
I need to hide but you will find me
When the dust settles
And me
With all my heart, A

It struck Gianmarco how Antonella must be the only one that can write a poetic work of literature with just a simple text - or maybe it was in the eye of the beholder. He had been worried sick and experts had called his performance against Gouvanarch ‘absent’. He could not have cared less. Everything he had bothered about now was finding the needle in the haystack. Gianmarco’s capacity for reading between the lines was strong enough to know that he would not solve the riddle in IlRocca but for a few days, he felt that she overestimated him in that ‘he would find her’. Days and nights were spent awake and in the end, he went over every conversation they had ever had. And then, somewhere at three at night, this bit flew in front of the screen.

”Look at you, posh city girl,” Gianmarco grinned as she unpacked the gift he had given her.
She smiled at the expensive purse but placed it aside, “Gianmarco, you shouldn’t have…”
“What, you should look pretty!”
“Don’t I look pretty yet?” she cornered him, but grinning.
“Ok, ok,” he lifted his hands in the air, “then give it to your mother.”
She chuckled shortly, “that will not make her stand out.”
“Why not? To the Sunday market with a gift from her brilliant son in law?”
“Yeah, sure,” she sniggered, ignoring the end of his remark, “she doesn’t go to the Catrallo flower mark but to Razzi farmer market.”
“Oh,” he replied shortly. Razzi constituted the centre of a few small towns on the border with Nyowani Kitara that, due to their mixed population, were either ignored or shunned by a major part of San Ortelians.
“What, are you surprised?” she stared, slowly placing her dark, mahogany wood hand on his increasingly less tanned [thank you, Tikariotian climate] skin.
“No… No, it’s not,” Gianmarco tried to voice his thoughts, “it’s not that I look at Razzi like some… I’m not a xenophobe. It is just that I… I never picked you as a country girl.”
“Born and raised,” Antonella smiles.
“But glad you’re in civilisation now,” Gianmarco attempted to give it all a humoristic tone. Whilst Catrallo is, in an international prism, barely a genuine city, the San Ortelian caleidoscope gave those who were born and raised there the characteristic ‘capital confidence’.
“For now…” she ignored his joke, “but one day I go back.”
“When…” he wondered if this was an open invite.
“When the dust settles. And when I settle.”

It was difficult as a national monument in the most popular sport to ride around a quiet town unnoticed and Gianmarco had contemplated whether this was such a good idea after all. But after asking around a bit, he had managed to pinpoint the right house. An unremarkable row house in a rundown neighbourhood, but the woman who opened the door had been welcoming and warm. Gianmarco had laughed throughout their short conversation, because only the smile on the woman’s face brought her closer to Antonella - albeit in a slightly wrinklier version - but also for the expensive purse which held a prominent place in an otherwise impoverished living room.

“I knew you would find me,” Antonella finally broke the silence.
“I wanted it more than anything,” Gianmarco replied, “and now I found you, I never want to lose you again.”

It sounded fragile, nearly a teenage flick, but he said it with a heartwarming genuinity.

“Come with me, to Tikariot,” he spoke, “you’ll be safe and we’ll be happy.”
“I can’t…”
“Is it, for here? For this place?”
“No, it’s… I can’t be in Tikariot. My passport is still with the Cartola’s.”
“They’re fairly open-minded…” Gianmarco started but he also knew that flying into a different country, as friendly as they were to San Ortelians, without any sort of identification was nonsense - let alone living her.

As to why her passport was with the Cartola’s, she didn’t need to explain. In equal parts, Gianmarco understood where she came from and didn’t care. They had her hostage and…

“I’ll go get it,” he said brashly, “we go get it.”
“You’re nuts, it will…”
“No,” Gianmarco spoke, more confident than ever, “it’s time. I am Gianmarco Del Prete. If I ask it, in public, he will not dare to deny me anything. I’m proud of me and… I’m proud of us.”

She nodded, disapproving but aware that his mind was made up.

“I’m back in San Ortelio ahead of the play-off game. The night before the match, I pick you up and we go to IlRocca.”

SEVEN DAYS LATER

Manager Di Tane had made it a habit that ahead of home confrontations, he allowed his players to stay at home rather than bunking in a hotel. It probably started from an economical point of view by the FA, combined with the fact that the size of the country ensured all players lived in the relative vicinity of the stadium. But in time, Di Tane had discovered that it brought effects of the peace of mind overshadowed the burden of continuous traveling and - a rare incident excluded - the boys had been extremely professional about it, taking care to hit the hay in time. So all players slept tight, in their own bed.

Apart from Enrico Lanzafame.

Having flown in from Brenecia that morning, he simply had no place to go anymore and lacked the courage to call his mother. It felt strange that what would effectively be his last night on San Ortelian soil - or at least, till the qualifiers of the next World Cup - would need to be spent in an anonymous hotel. The walls were concrete and slowly closing in, Enrico believed. The schedule had been clear, a light but nutritious meal, a bit of reading up on the skills and weaknesses of Wadsworth and Simmons and then lights out.

And now he sat here, with a protesting stomach and having reread the same page about the Red League antics from Wadsworth for the fifth time, still not processing the exact words. And it wasn’t just the intricate selection system from Il Bombi, with black and gold teams in specific rotations, that turned his mind upside down.

The woman in black.

He still had not figured out who she was but that didn’t stop her words from chasing him day and night.

“I’m sorry. Not just for your loss. You deserved… Better. Maybe we all did, but only you had no chance to really choose for it.”

Enrico deserved better. He deserved answers. And as he wouldn’t be here for a long time, there was only one opportunity.

Seven minutes later he was on the curb, checking carefully if his shoes were classy enough. Then he held a cab and the short instruction sufficed for the driver - he hadn’t been the first customer heading in that direction.

“IlRocca, please.”

[Siovanija and Teusland]

Score! Magazine

Sources: World Cup Playoff Loss ‘Would Spell End’ for Gavin Hughes

Apoxian has been in charge of Goldhorns for 6 World Cup campaigns

When Siovanija & Teusland’s national football team take to the pitch to kick off their World Cup Playoff against TJUN-ia, a two-legged tie which will determine one of the last 8 spots at the World Cup Finals, they will do so amidst a new report that manager Gavin Hughes could be out the door with a loss.

Sources close to the Siovanija & Teusland Football Association say that there is pressure from above for a change in direction after a disappointing performance at the AOCAF, and struggles down the stretch that saw the Goldhorns lose both of their final home qualifiers - wins in those matches would have bypassed the playoff and sent the national team to Ethane or Taeshan.

‘There’s no ill will,’ one source told Score!. ‘It just might be time for both sides to move on.’ Hughes has now been in charge of the team since before World Cup 82 Qualifiers, and the Apoxian is definitely a true legend of the national team. He’s been the sturdy man in charge for over a decade, and was on the touchline for some of the Goldhorns’ greatest moments.

He led the national team into AOCAF 57, and was responsible for the team reaching the Quarterfinals, after a famous 5-4 win over Vilita and Turori that was dubbed ‘Das Wunder von Northbrush’ and was the break-out moment for several stars of the national team today - Michael Ribbeck and Karl-Heinz Jager among them. World Cup 82 marked a better campaign from the team, before they reached the playoff stage for the first time in World Cup 83. The Goldhorns would qualify for the first time under Hughes at World Cup 84, and reached the next two after as well - of course, their fate in World Cup 87 remains unclear as of print.

In recent years, however, there have been more and more questions around the national team. World Cup 85 in particular was viewed as a missed opportunity for the team - with several star players in their prime, and carrying a 26-game unbeaten streak into the tournament. The tournament ended up, however, in disappointment - a 3-0 beatdown by Eura on the first day, before a surprise win over rivals Baker Park. On the final day, a win against Pot 4 side Terre Septentrionale would have seen the Goldhorns through to the Round of 16, but instead lost to the underdogs.

The performance at the recent AOCAF in Banija was also questionable - the Goldhorns looked poor, winning only 1 game through the entirety of the tournament. The performance mostly flew under the radar - the tournament coincided with World Cup of Hockey 41, and the nationwide party that followed the national team’s second triumph at that tournament - but did not escape the watchful eye of the STFA.

It will be a very tough call to make if Hughes is to go. He is beloved by the fans, and highly respected by the players. But it’s beginning to look as if there is no other option. One main criticism of him in the last few years has been the inability to adapt a style that allows both Michael Ribbeck and Stanimir Ilev to play in the same system - two of the top forwards in world football, and one is usually on the bench. There’s a risk of the Goldhorns getting ‘figured out’ and exposed - and if it happens over the next two games, well, there won’t be any doubt what comes next.

It’s unlikely Hughes would be sacked outright - how can you drop the axe on the man who brought the national team to such heights? Hughes will likely be offered a chance at either the Cup of Harmony or the AOCAF, if he would choose, to switch things up and continue the overhaul to the squad. But it’s understood that he will also be offered the chance to leave and take other steps in his career.

With a new generation of top young talents coming to the top of their games right now in this country, it might be the ideal time to move a new manager in - let them get introduced to the team, and integrate those younger players into a new system. But who could that new manager be?

The STFA have been careful this time not to show their cards - especially as Hughes has gotten older. The disaster that was Alan Dzekov’s spell after he had been considered ‘manager in the wings’ for all of World Cup 80’s campaign has not been forgotten. Dzekov’s name is not on a list of candidates, as we understand - but his success with FK Metropola Borograd means he could earn a second chance one day.

It’s understood that the STFA are wanting to hire a domestic-based manager - someone familiar with the talent of the national team at the youth level. And given that of the 2 previous domestic-based managers, both were Siovanijan, you would think a Teus manager would be top choice for the role. Kasper Knauer will always be in the conversation - the FC Teussen Stelburg manager is a legend back home, and served as an assistant at World Cup 80. He’s getting older, however, and might want to just wind down his career at Teussen instead. Leonard Wagner of FC Felsenkirchen 1879 is another one who might consider the jump - especially given how familiar he is with a number of the young talents. Two dark horse candidates are the two most recent Managers of the Year in the Republikaliga: Robert Feicke of Preisfeld and Ole Sauer of Marzig. Both use two-forward formations at their clubs, and Feicke in particular has been adept at bringing through young players. He might be more willing to make the move - Ole Sauer is said to be committed long-term to his project at Marzig, and while he would reportedly love the national job someday, he might feel the time isn’t right just yet.

In the best-case scenario, however, none of this would be a question - the Goldhorns would advance through the playoff and then have a successful campaign in Ethane or Taeshan, silencing the doubters of the last 18 months and allowing Hughes to finish out his career here on his own terms. Perhaps this has even been leaked to the press now in order to fire up the players - you talk about how much you respect the boss, go out there and show it. Will such a move fire up the team, or backfire horribly? We’re about to find out. Come on you Goldhorns!

Squad for Leg 1: Heuser; Steimle, Jager, Maksimov, Vesele; Kramer, Bahr, Bliznakov; Kokalj, Tauscher, Ilev
Bench: Sveteikov; Richter, Kronthaler; Mihailov, V. Dimitrov, Krukenberg; Ribbeck

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

OOC - opening paragraph shamelessly steals from a couple of Robert Howard descriptions of Conan, mashed together and edited. Much of the rest (up until Tzimisces calls 'cease') is edited from Howard's Conan story 'the Scarlet Citadel. Details on Rejistania taken from the old archived NSWiki article.

So close, and yet... you finish the cliche. Needing a final game win, a final game Trolleborg loss, and to overcome a 5 goal difference in goal difference, Juan Tzimisces - all of him - had come agonisingly close. Instead, the Holy Empire and Trolleborg had found themselves tied on head to head results, tied on head to head goal difference, tied on overall goal difference, and with games won not being factored in (an equation which Tzimisces and the Holy Empire Football Association were well aware would have tipped qualification to Trolleborg regardless) it had come down to a coin toss. An actual physical coin toss; and coins don't (or rather, only very rarely) land on their sides. With Trolleborg winning that coin toss, it was off to a qualifying playoff against South Covello. Tzimisces was only too aware that the Holy Empire's record in playoffs was ... disappointing. But needs must. In the meantime, imperial scholars had found a document dating back to the early history of once-great World Cup nation Rejistania, to the semi-mythical 'Karelan Age'; and this document seemed to involve the Juan Tzimisces who captains the current Holy Empire squad from central midfield.


Hither came Tzimisces the Barbarian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Rejis under his sandalled feet. He was a tall man, mightily shouldered and deep of chest, with a massive corded neck and heavily muscled limbs. He was clad in red and gold, with the royal symbol of a holy empire far away worked in gold upon his rich jupon, and a crown shone on his square-cut black mane; but the great sword at his side seemed more natural to him than the regal accoutrements. His brow was low and broad, his eyes a volcanic blue that smouldered as if with some inner fire. His dark, scarred, almost sinister face was that of a fighting-man, and his velvet garments could not conceal the hard, dangerous lines of his limbs. Yet in his roaming about the multiverse the giant adventurer had picked up a wide smattering of knowledge, particularly including the speaking and reading of many alien tongues. Many a sheltered scholar would have been astonished at Tzimisces's linguistic abilities,

For many days now he had led his armies across the Isle of the Rejis, its steaming jungles no more of an obstacle to the mighty barbarian than the ice fields of the north or the deserts of other nations. None knew how to survive like Tzimisces. Yet this was a dangerous land of many savage tribes.... The Majuveda, the Minokaje, the Hito, the Jis, the Isesi, the Trs, the Ehila~o, the Seleken and the Ly all claimed this jungle as their own, while worshipping their dread gods Relekekansa and Jaortirkansa. What he sought, few knew. And then he had been forced to give battle; an ambush by the savage Ehila~o had left him with no choice.

The roar of battle had died away; the shout of victory mingled with the cries of the dying. Like gay-hued leaves after an autumn storm, the fallen littered the jungle clearing; the sinking sun shimmered on burnished helmets, gilt-worked mail, silver breastplates, broken swords and the heavy regal folds of silken standards, overthrown in pools of curdling crimson. In silent heaps lay war- horses and their steel-clad riders, flowing manes and blowing plumes stained alike in the red tide. About them and among them, like the drift of a storm, were strewn slashed and trampled bodies in steel caps and leather jerkins—archers and pikemen.

The oliphants sounded a fanfare of triumph all over the plain, and the hoofs of the victors crunched in the breasts of the vanquished as all the straggling, shining lines converged inward like the spokes of a glittering wheel, to the spot where the last survivor still waged unequal strife.

That day Tzimisces the Barbarian had seen the pick of his chivalry cut to pieces, smashed and hammered to bits, and swept into eternity. With five thousand knights he had crossed the south-east of Rejistania and ridden into the lands of the Hito, to find his former ally, the Chief of the Ehila~o, drawn up against him with the hosts the Chief of the Hito. Too late he had seen the trap. All that a man might do he had done with his five thousand cavalrymen against the thirty thousand knights, archers and spearmen of the conspirators.

Without bowmen or infantry, he had hurled his armoured horsemen against the oncoming host, had seen the knights of his foes in their shining mail go down before his lances, had torn the opposing center to bits, driving the riven ranks headlong before him, only to find himself caught in a vise as the untouched wings closed in. The Hito bowmen had wrought havoc among his knights, feathering them with shafts that found every crevice in their armor, shooting down the horses, the Ehila~o pikemen rushing in to spear the fallen riders. The mailed lancers of the routed center had re-formed, reinforced by the riders from the wings, and had charged again and again, sweeping the field by sheer weight of numbers.

Tzimisces troops had not fled; they had died on the field, and of the five thousand knights who had followed the Barbarian southward, not one left the field alive. And now Tzimisces himself stood at bay among the slashed bodies of his house-troops, his back against a heap of dead horses and men. Blue-clad Hito cavalry leaped their horses over mounds of corpses to slash at the solitary figure; squat orange-clad Ehila~o with beards ringed him on foot. The clangour of steel rose deafeningly; the red- and gold-mailed figure of Tzimisces loomed among his swarming foes, dealing blows like a butcher wielding a great cleaver. Riderless horses raced down the field; about his iron-clad feet grew a ring of mangled corpses. His attackers drew back from his desperate savagery, panting and livid.

Suddenly, Tzimisces called out: "Cease!" And such was the power of the Barbarian's voice that his foes trembled before him, and lowered their weapons.

"Hard have you fought this day. Legendary shall be your feats of arms - and know this, that I, Juan Tzimisces, have learned a valuable lesson from your orange-blue armies this day." The chiefs of the Ehila~o and the Hito stared hard at Tzimisces the Barbarian, but they did not order their troops to advance.

"Divensi mi'aru hetaki veka altenany!" he said, and the Ehila~o and Hito were amazed as one to hear him speak their language. "Or, as I would say in my own tongue, 'defence is by far the best attack'. Let this be the motto of the Age of Karela! In war, in sport, and in all other fields of endeavour!" And with those words Tzimisces threw a ball of leather, white with panels of black, towards the opposing troops. He marched from whence he had come, and none dared attack him - for not only did they fear his feats of arms, but they knew he had spoken a great truth that day.... one that, in time, would not just inform the mythical Age of Karela, but also the System Karela of World Cups to come.

[Pasarga]

The Wanderers traveled to The Gothanita Isles, knowing that they needed at least a draw, more likely they needed a victory to have any significant chance of overtaking South Newlandia and moving into the top spot of the group and the automatic qualification spot that came with it. It was far from the easiest of tasks to be handed, with the memory of the shock defeat in Torgos a few months before to the very same side still quite fresh on the minds of most of the players as well as the fans. Changes needed to be made to get the side moving in the right direction, these tense affairs were wearing on the nerves of the staff, the players, and the supporters quite so and was driving everyone just a bit wonky. Up front, Boriska Nagy was going to start instead of Réka Szôllôssi while Márió Szölösi was given the starting nod ahead of Mária Vöröss, to try and add some different creative flair and that the Ulsa midfielder felt more comfortable in playing a little further back than the Eqestria based attacking midfielder. The rest of the usual starting line up remained unchanged and the side charged forward knowing the task before them needed them to be on their game.

It was the sort of start to a match that Meriadoc Griffiths had been waiting for all campaign, the side was hemming their hosts in and forcing poor decisions that resulting in a change of possession. Szalyk Földessy collected the poor clearance and sent it down the wing where his brother was able to latch on and dribble with pace down the sideline, weaving past a defender as he approached the byline and cut in towards the area. Feigning a shot, he instead sent a slick low cross that Nagy was able to volley on the first touch straight into the back of the net, and the Wanderers had taken a lead just three minutes into the match. They continued to press on their hosts, looking to keep them contained and unable to string any sort of efforts together or really settle in to the match and it was working brillaintly as the home side was allowed absolutely no time on the ball. It had been a tactical switch to go from the fluid counter attack that the Wanderers were used to, to the gegenpress and it had completely caught their opponents off-guard. However thrice in the first half were the hosts saved by the word work, with two of those coming in the twenty-first minute when a Nagy shot hit the post and rebounded to Müller, but her shot was tipped into the crossbar and out by the Gothanita keeper.

The side was feeling quite good with themselves as they entered into the dressing room at the half time whistle, having gotten the lead and put on quite a dominant performance to try and stake their claim in the Ethane and Taeshan. Unfortunately when they got into the locker room, they were met with very disappointing news, South Newlandia was beating Tumbra and apparently looking quite good for their lead if the radio announcers were right. If that result held, it meant that it did not matter what the Wanderers ended up doing in the Isles, they were going to be bound for the playoff regardless, as the number of things to go right for them to finish in the top three of second placed teams was far too astronomical to even fathom. With that knowledge, Griffiths decided that it was time to start planning for that playoff and brought off Müller for Salai as well as Ildiko Kálmán coming on for Erik Földessy, letting the two main stars of the side get some rest before what was going to be a crazy affair, whatever team they ended up being pit against in the playoff. The playoffs were always such a lottery and it definitely did not sit well with Griffiths that it was likely that was how the Wanderers were going to have to try and earn their trip into the Finals by, however that was football and just getting there was the important part.

The wind had definitely came out of the sails for the Wanderers as the second half got underway as the hosts became more and more involved in the affair, even testing out Ambrus Galambos' reflexes just before the hour mark. Where the Wanderers had definitely been the better and dominant side in the first half, the second half become a more even affair, though the play was getting a bit mired in the midfield and the defenses were standing resolute. Even if they were about to have to go through a playoff, there was still pride to play for and to end the campaign on some positive momentum, which keeping three clean sheets in a row definitely would be. It would show that the match against Hampton Island was just a fluke and that the back line merely had had a bad day at the office to concede five to the visitors that day, a clean sheet would mean that the side would have conceded just a tick above a goal a game through the qualifiers. While far from the sort of dominance in defense that Ko-oren, Taeshan, or the infamous Rejistania might be proud of, it is nothing to be ashamed of, though the side definitely would have like to cut down a few of those goals against and have had a few more goals for.

The full time whistle came and went with little fanfare from either side in the last half hour, a few half chances that were easily saved or missed their target by both and it would ultimately be that early goal and dominance that was the difference between the two sides on the day. Reports from South Newlandia confirmed what the Wanderers had dreaded, the hosts there had done what they needed to do and bested Tumbra, earning them the top spot in the group and forcing the Wanderers to have to go through the playoff system. As the results from the rest of the groups were filtering in, the news came that the Wanderers were going to be matched up against one of the more difficult teams in the the playoff picture, fellow first seeds in the form of Recuecn. This was a team that was not far removed from being in the World Cup Round of Sixteen and was far better than their second placed finish in Group One showed and it left a very poor taste in the mouths of all those in the Wanderers' locker room.

With a side that on paper was nearly identical, if perhaps slightly better, than the Wanderers in all measurements, it was going to be a tense and tight affair the whole way through. The Wanderers were going to have to travel for the first leg and Griffiths had a few weeks to figure out how to get the side able to win an aggregate tie, something that deeply concerned them with the squad's inability to win by more than a goal since being appointed as the manager. That was why they got paid the big bucks though, to solve problems like the one before them and the Wanderers and to claim that spot in the Finals, or else they were likely out of the job at the end of the two legged affair.

[Omerica]

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Poafmersia v Omerica: World Cup qualifying playoff preview
By Sydney Alexander

For all the talk of managers’ jobs being on the line in these qualifying playoffs, one of the sixteen managers is absolutely sure to retain their job regardless of the result: the Incorrigibles’ persistence and consistency over the last two cycles has firmly secured Alexis Stephanidis her job in the Omerican dugout, even if the outcome is—like a Malavan Challengers Cup tie against Cobre opposition—a comprehensive 9–0 defeat.

For the last two cycles, Omerica’s group was decided when the draw was made. Or at least that was the wisdom. While Turori and Siovanija–Teusland quickly ran away with the group two years ago, Omerica were a persistent thorn in the side of Starblaydia and Equestria throughout this cycle. Despite stumbling at the Stade des Marins against group favourites Starblaydia, the Incorrigibles went on a magnificent run and pushed an AOCAF giant all the way to the finish.

For how far Omerica fell off the pace, the Incorrigibles displayed remarkable consistency last cycle: losing all four matches against the top two seeds, drawing all four matches against third-seed Astograth and fifth-seed Valladares and winning nine of ten against the rest of the group; a freak loss to Blampano was the only blemish on that record last cycle. That gave Omerica a larger haul of points in 18 games than they had across the previous 24-game qualification campaign and was enough to finish a solid third in Alexis Stephanidis’s début campaign.

This cycle was even better for the Incorrigibles and, despite the steep decline of Equestria, it had to be for Stephanidis’s side to mount a qualification challenge. Omerica collected the full complement of thirty points from the bottom half (rankwise) of the group, three more than last time out. Omerica collected eight points from the fourth and fifth seeds, double the total from last cycle. And Omerica came away from matches against the qualification favourites with three draws, keeping the top seeds within catching distance. Though four points adrift of second at the halfway point, when the dust settled, the Incorrigibles had pipped the Ponies by a single point.

Whereas Starblaydia won qualification on the back of beating their two main competitors head-to-head, Omerica finished in the top two on the back of consistent results against the rest of the group. It was Equestria, not Omerica, who drew at home to Beepee. It was Starblaydia, not Omerica, who lost in Transvolcanic. It was Equestria, not Omerica, who lost in Lorrana. It was Omerica, not anyone else, who finished the group stage with just one defeat. It was Omerica, not anyone else, who went unbeaten away from home.

Now all that stands between Omerica and a first appearance at the World Cup finals in more than a quarter-century is the most dreaded word in football: a playoff. When all the group runners-up were ranked against each other, Omerica ended up in a tie with the Independent Athletes from Quebec, forcing a coin toss at World Cup Committee headquarters to decide who would play whom. The Quebecois representative called the toss correctly and thus won their team the right to face New Lusitania, while Omerica will have to go up against two-time reigning IAC titleholders Poafmersia, for whom a playoff victory would mark their first-ever successful qualification campaign.

In two prior playoff attempts, Omerica have played five matches and not won a single one, not to mention the absolute shambles that followed each playoff the cycle after. First, there was the playoff against Electrum, which came at the unfortunate time when the very existence of Omerican football was in turmoil; Electrum narrowly won the first leg before somehow only getting a draw in Port Alexandre, deservedly eliminating Omerica from the tournament and putting the country’s national team on hiatus. Then there was the odd World Cup 83 playoff group format, where Kelssek won against the run of play, Savojarna held on for a draw and Krytenia ripped Red Bolton’s testicles off and ate them for breakfast. The next cycle, the Incorrigibles were nowhere to be seen: a clerk misplaced the entry forms in the weeks before an outbreak of Maxtopian Pox afflicted the country.

In the present day, the collective wisdom is that Poafmersia are the runaway favourites—Chromatik publication The Rebel opened a playoff prediction contest and a staggering eleven of the thirteen international entrants picked the IAC holders to win out—, but international audiences would be well-advised to remember that underdogs can and do win playoffs. If anything, this playoff is perhaps the closest of the eight to being a coin toss.

The first leg will take place in Fortress Fiskadaha at the Libira National Stadium, where Poafmersia have not lost since the Holy Empire beat them on matchday three last cycle. Conversely, Omerica have become something of away game specialists, being undefeated since departing Turori on matchday eight that same cycle. If the outcome is a draw, both teams would maintain those streaks and, if the draw isn’t scoreless, Omerica will take a crucial away goal advantage back to the United Republics.

Then it will all be decided in the Republic of the City of Romainbourg at the site where Raynor City United won their sixth world club championship and an unheralded team won their first international trophy: the Stade de la République. Now it’s admittedly a risky move by the United Republican Soccer Federation to host Poafmersia at stadium where they know they can win in a city where Omerica don’t have the best record, but to be fair: where else in the bloody country could the Federation have held this match?

Omerica’s home record this cycle has been mostly unblemished: just one defeat to top-seeded Starblaydia early in the campaign plus draws against Equestria and Darkmania are the Incorrigibles’ only home demerits. Poafmersia, in contrast, have struggled on the road, being comprehensively defeated in Farfadillis and Krytenia, held to a draw in West Squornshelous and stunned in West Zirconia. Thus the risk on the Red Panjia side is that if the tie isn’t locked up before the kickoff in Romainbourg, Omerica can easily pull off a minor upset.

What we can say for certain is that whichever way this tie goes, it will be a high octane affair. Poafmersia and Omerica both share a preference for the attacking side of the game and a belief in the old adages of “the best defence is a good offence” and “the more goals, the better.” Poafmersia and Omerica will both be constantly at each other’s throats for the ball and will rightly view the defence as a first line of attack, be it Poafmersia’s high-pressing back line or Omerica’s love of counterattacking from out wide.

This tie will ultimately not be lost by the team who flinches first, but by the team who flinches more. If Omerica can effectively lock down the middle of the park and seize the flanks, the Incorrigibles will make a long-overdue return to the World Cup proper. If Poafmersia can implement their pressing game effectively, the lowly ‘ome realm is in for a very difficult trip to an insanely stacked Cup of Harmony. But the general consensus in the United Republics is that even if Poafmersia beat the Incorrigibles in a landslide, just getting to this stage represents an incredible victory. So long as Omerica are merely back for the World Cup 88 qualifying cycle without incident—and even if the Incorrigibles lose every game for the next two years—, this playoff will have been an unbelievable success. Qualification would be an absolute godsend. ◇

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Other Football News:
• “Omexit”: Bookmakers peg AOCAF as the favourites for Omerica’s new home, with Rushmore in second and Esportiva third
• WCQ87 decision day: The Incorrigibles hold their nerve in Éternare and pip Equestria to a place in the qualification playoffs
• WCQ87 in review: Ranking all the surprise hits and the shocking misses of the World Cup 87 qualification group stage

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Uniting Omerican sport fans across the United Republics — blogdefootball: a proud member of the Gryphon Pride network

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United Republican Soccer Federation
6 Jacques la Rouge Road
Port Alexandre, MS 18-A40
UNITED REPUBLICS OF OMERICA

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Poafmersia v Omerica
World Cup 87 qualification — Playoff Leg One
Libira National Stadium, Fiskadaha, Poafmersia
Omerica lineup (4–3–3): Valentin Augustin; Alphonse Notley, Charity Kayode, Raphaël Martin, Sacha Sepulveda; Red Bolton (captain), Fearchar Mac Cléirich, Thom Magalhaes; Jessie Beckett, Jean-François Fernand, Jamal Ahmad
Substitutes: Alexandra McGuire, Annelise Betancourt; Darcy Francis, Frédérique Marquetti, Justin Thyme, Felix Zanetti; Maxime Fournier, Soraya Archambault, Nadiya al-Hashim; Maïa Bustos, Alexis Chrysanthos, Adélaïde Argyris

[Tikariot]

OOC Disclaimer: Soundtrack: Heidevolk - Yngwaz' zonen

The sound of a low drum can be heard over the splash of oars, accompanied by deep, male voices. As the deep, sonorous voice of the precentor begins, the darkness lifts and the prow of a ship cutting through the waves comes into view. There is no land in sight, but while the skies are still blue with the sunlight reflecting off the gentle, rolling waves, it looks like some heavy weather is up ahead.

The Shadow: The final book in the series is about to be written, the grande finale.

As the song continues, the camera zooms out, showing what almost looks like a drakkar gliding through the ocean, row upon row of oars in perfect sync, the drumbeat almost hypnotic.

The Shadow: After 18 grueling battles, after everybody thought it would all be over, it continues on. Off to Huayramarca it is, the place many nations dread to travel to, a fortress of its own kind, cradled high up at the feet of the mountains that are considered holy.

Wind seems to be picking up now as the swells begin to grow and in the not too far distance the first whitecaps can be seen as well. Another indication for this is the dark clouds approaching faster than before.

The Shadow: There has been much talk over easy opponents and how Tikariot has managed to avoid the Baker Parks and Pasargas and instead is facing the Condors, but once again, this cannot be put into numbers. You cannot just look at the achievements past and try to draw conclusions. Any nation, regardless of their scores in previous tournaments, no matter who they beat or drew or lost against in this campaign, any of the 16 teams that will be competing in these final two chapters are here for one reason and for one reason only: Because they are worthy. They are not a fluke.

Nobody manages to go through 18 games and by pure chance winds up ahead of eight other teams in each of their groups to now face the final hurdle into the promised lands of Taeshan and Ethane. Anybody approaching it with this mindframe has already put his respective team in a weakened position. Is San Ortelio an easier opponent than Baker Park, just because of where they started from? There is no such thing as an easy opponent, especially at this stage...

As the prow hits the first bigger waves, sending spray across the decks, the picture fades to black and the sound of oars and waves is replaced by the crackling of a large fire and when the darkness fades away, a huge bonfire can be seen atop a hill, with the Huayramarcan mountains not far in the distance, a group of people sitting and standing around it.

The Shadow: From hereon out there is no more room for failure, no time to fix mistakes, it is all or nothing. Now the team can show it truly is a team. The old musketeerian trope of 'All for one and one for all?', well, everybody will have to play their part to ensure that all the efforts so far were not for naught. They say that the sheer altitude of the stadium is like a twelfth player on the pitch for Huayramarca, but look at Oriannor, look at Bul Khungur, the Dark Tide is prepared for you. (OOC Disclaimer: Both Oriannor and Bul Khungur are mining cities high in the mountains, with altitudes similar to Huayramarca.)

The camera switches to right next to the bonfire with The Shadow having his back to it, only his silhouette visible as pitch black negative space within the swirling and dancing red, orange and yellow of the flames. He makes a sweeping gesture around towards the others that are surrounding the fire indicating that it indeed is the national team players that have gathered here with him.

The Shadow: Know that each and every one of them is ready to take the extra step. Each and every one of them will get back up when they get knocked down. Their desire to win is greater than their fear of losing, can you say the same, Huayramarca?

At these words the team gets up and gathers around The Shadow, raising their fists into the night sky, outlined by the flames of the bonfire.

The Shadow: I hope that you are ready for a dance tonight, a dance like you have never seen before. No, not just a mere dance with fire, no, that would be too easy, but a dance on the volcano. Yes, it might seem dormant, but it is there, just lurking beneath the surface. You will not see it coming, for once you notice the cracks, it will be far too late for once the Dark Tide has erupted, it will sweep you away...

Slowly the image fades to black.

[Huayramarca]

Lessons became helpful for the Condors

Written by: Selma González
18/04/1982 – 5:20 P.M.

It was a long journey, a hard one for the Huayramarcan National Football Team, but the support made by the fans in morale and economic terms, adding up the extra support provided by the Huayramarcan Government has paid up some fruits during this World Cup Qualifiers, at our third attempt, the Condors have achieved a respectable duty during this 18 matchdays, getting only two defeats, four draws and twelve victories, summing up 40 points. A well elaborated play by Bryan Tello at the 84th minute, granted by a pass from Gabriel Sayritupac, helped the Condors to break up the equalizer against a troublemaker side of Emastalia at their own turf, that helped the Condors to soar into second place of the group and earn a berth for the World Cup Playoff for the first time.

A surprising feat made by the team and also powered by the mind of Omar Caicedo has put Huayramarca right into the door for their first ever World Cup Finals appearance, but first, they have to face Tikariot in a double-legged knockout series in order to determine who will be the qualified side.

For beginners, the World Cup format is comprised of 19 groups, in each one, the leader qualified automatically; in our group, Audioslavia was the fortunate team to qualify, in virtue of having 43 points and also dominating us in the H2H series, with a narrow 1-0 win and a 0-0 tie that helped them to make 4 out of 6 points against us. Huayramarca finished one point above Northwestern Kalactin, that in virtue of getting a vital win in the penultimate matchday at Sechura that pretty much settled everything in our favor. Adding the hosts and three best second places, we totaled up 24 teams. The other 16 second placed sides will meet up in a knockout series without a randomized sorting, instead, positioning among the best second placed sides were the key factor to decided who will face who and how the matches will be played.

Huayramarca finished with the 9th best record among the second placed teams, our rivals, Tikariot, finished 8th, somebody would ask: Does this make a significant difference? The answer is yes. Tikariot, as 8th placed team will play their home game at the second leg, which means that Huayramarca will start the knockout at home, at the Estadio Nacional de Huayramarca in order to take some advantage of height and also by the fact of being the Metropolitan District.

Some interesting stuff into this format are the technicalities that one should know about the format: Away goals are a tie-breaking criterion, that means that if team A scores one goal past team B while the latter is playing at home, that goal will be considered as a potential tie-breaker for those teams. Let’s suppose that team A loses 2-1 away against B, if team A wins 1-0 at their home, the aggregated score of the series would be 2-2, in this situation, we take into account the goals scored away, team A scored one while team B didn’t, henceforth, team A qualifies for the World Cup.

Huayramarca has to be cautious while playing at home, but that doesn’t mean to lock-up behind, it’s imperious for the team to seek for some chances and try to score some goals, this would mean a comfortable difference that could be useful at the away leg, also, would improve the possibilities for the Condors to qualify. According to Omar Caicedo, the Condors are in front of “A unique chance for us to show what we can do”. This might be due to the possibilities of having scouts from outside clubs watching our players “This would help them to play better in order to provide better chances for a living to their families”. That situation also helps while considering that some of our players do know how the Tikarioti football style works…

According to what Carlos Vilca knows, the Valnohar Rovers FC player refers: “It’s a hard-fought league, the fans are really passionate and they have some experience playing in high altitude locations, their main venue is at 3000 M.A.S.L. so, that means that they will be accustomed to what Estadio Nacional offers”. Then, his teammate Gabriel Sayritupac adds “They are highly offensive, it’s usual for them to attack with a striker and two wingers, even more offensive than what we do usually. They are quite strong physically, so, we have to be faster and smarter than them in order to create dangerous chances against them”. In other words, they seem to be a rival that is accustomed to what we do and the conditions we play, so, will be a really hard-fought series for sure where, probably, a mistake will be a game changer situation.

Omar Caicedo says: “We consider that our chances are 50% for us, 50% for them, they are rookies in this situation as we are, so there’s not something that would lean a balance towards their side. We have a dream, but we know that we are extremely close and every mistake will be paid severely, hence, we need to stay concentrated on what we do, try to take advantage of our talents and be sure that we can read their intentions, so we can try to cancel their plans”.

The game has created a lot of expectation among fans across Huayramarca, large queues were noticed at ticket-selling spots way before the opening time, it was estimated that the tickets were completely sold within a lapse of 6 hours, which is extraordinary for the accustomed pace of ticket selling here. Police has been doing a heavy duty against resellers, basically, they were taking away the exceeding tickets from outside the limit of 3 tickets per person and were devolving those to the ticket-selling business in order to let people go to the stadium and support Huayramarca in what it’s deemed to be the most important match in Huayramarcan football history.

It’s matter to trust into the process, trust the players and support our national squad at the Estadio Nacional this Thursday, 6:30 P.M. Go with your entire family, prepare your throats and support Huayramarca with pride, wave your flag proudly and be prepared for this. The players need your support more than ever, let’s build history, block by block, step by step.

[Recuecn]

Wanted: Suspense/Thriller Writer

WCC Headquarters - As the World Cup qualification groups came to a close Saturday evening, WCC officials expressed concern heading into the playoff round. One inside source who wished to remain anonymous told us that within the WCC offices, rumors have been circulating surrounding which teams have or have not earned direct qualification to the tournament itself. "When that final whistle blew in each qualifying group's last game, finalizing the playoff draw, we all sort of looked at each other," said our source, who claimed to be a representative of 'not a WCC member nation, but somewhere actually important.' "The general atmosphere in the room when we looked at the [playoff] schedule was, 'oh, shit'."

The factor concerning WCC bigwigs, multiverse sports fans, and probabilities nerds with nothing better to worry about is the sheer number of highly ranked countries who have failed to directly qualify for the World Cup and now face the prospect of missing out entirely after a playoff defeat. The list of countries slotted to determine their qualification futures in a home-and-away aggregate series includes names such as Baker Park, Terre Septentrionale, Zwangzug, The Holy Empire, Siovanija and Teusland, Pasarga, and Reçueçn - and that list only includes nations from the top-30-ranked sides who still have a shot at qualifying. Just as worrisome is what could have happened - just one matchday ago for example, Nephara was set to join that list - and what didn't happen: Eura, Hampton Island, Newmanistan, Mriin, Equestria, Kandorith, and Huelavia have all failed to qualify at all.

With such a shocking list of underperformers, a few eyebrows have been raised. Reports emerged yesterday that an international investigation was being assembled. However, no governments or notable organizations have yet announced participation in any such plan. With complaints of rigging, bribes, and thrown matches a perennial topic of discussion, some commentators have derided such fears: one Reçuecian described them as 'just another cry for attention from failing national teams, beating the WCC's dead hobby horse; you can lead a horse to the kool-aid but you can't make this one drink'. (We're not quite sure what he was trying to say but we thought the metaphor was poetic.)

Information from our source, however, points to a much more nefarious theory. Randomness in qualifying results is not due to any human interference: instead, darker, more powerful forces are at work. We've arrived at what the experts call the 'Helvetica Scenario' or the 'Even Worst Case' Scenario. Simply put, Maggie's bored.

Once it's been pointed out, it seems fairly obvious. Margaret, our all-powerful goddess, has grown tired of reading the same insipid roleplays day after day, suffering through indistinguishable match-reports and bone-dry narratives. Any self-respecting priestess such as herself naturally likes to find at least some small pretense of suspense in a story, and finding none offered, her Holiness has clearly decided to insert it herself. Forcing top seeds to wait until not only the very last day of the qualifying groups but in fact the playoffs themselves to discover their qualification fates indicates not cruelty, not capriciousness, but plain old ennui.

On behalf of all the nations trying to get into the World Cup, someone needs to shoulder the burden, pick up a pen, and just really get their inspiration flowing. Somehow, someone had better find some way to get their muses woken up and with a double shot of espresso inside, and really crank out some thrilling tale of suspense. Some sort of noir mystery novel might do nicely. Or perhaps a new genre is needed. Either way, it has to be something on the level of The Arabian Nights, where the story is so suspenseful that it's able to delay an execution for 1,000 days, or in this case, just wring out some less buttcheek-clenching inducing scorelines from the goddess of the third 'R'. Hopefully, if we can find someone who can actually write some sensational suspense, spark a little electrifying expectancy into their work, or draft a death-defying drama, Margaret's thirst for thrill will be in some measure satiated and she'll be able to stop fucking with the scorinators.

Anyway, all that to say that this article is in fact a full-page ad: if you're the one who can add that at-present absent anticipation, give us a call, and we're sure the multiverse will thank you when things return to normal.

[Commonwealth of Baker Park]

BPNT on road to start playoff
by Oliver Stanley
The Post Chief Soccer Correspondent


The mood was light as the National Team got in their workout at the stadium where they would be playing the first leg of the playoff in less than 24 hours, Il Olimpico in San Ortelio's largest city Catrallo. It was not much larger than many of the home grounds in the National League 2nd & 3rd divisions, but otherwise was more than adequate for the biggest match in the tiny host nation's history.

Coming into this cycle, San Ortelio had only a handful of international matches under their collective belts, and as the 10th seed in Group 6 would face off against Turori, Mercedini, and Qasden among the competitors. Baker Park faced the first two nations in the last World Cup, with Mercedini the only team to inflict defeat--twice--on the Black & Gold during qualifying and the Eels being the opposition in the first group stage match in Drawkland—and of course there's no need for explanation as to why the Turkish Vans have a significance.

Which brings the coincidences full circle, as San Ortelio could join the club of nations that have qualified for the Finals on their debut with a performance for the ages. The AO champions know that this is a huge moment for the minnows, a chance to pull off an epic upset with many eyes around the multiverse fixed on the developments in Catrallo and Belle Haven.

Annabeth Westmoreland's hat trick heroics in Dominica City have gotten BP to this point, along with a solidifying of the defense, the first half against Xanneria notwithstanding. Against the Ortelians, the gameplan is expected to emphasize patient ball control and keeping the home side bottled up in their own half.

There has been a definitive improvement across the board in all phases of the squad since the decision to cut off the split squad period earlier than expected. There are now two solid units that have jelled, leading to fewer selection headaches for Ichi Tuzzio and company.

The return match at the BBP Stadium is set for a 2000 kickoff, though currently there are no further public announcements from Metro PD about crowd control or traffic restrictions.

lineup vs San Ortelio gm 1
Gaines; Bartok, Rasanamirsa, Harrison; Delgarro, Sotolongo, Stone, Nolan; LeClair; Simmons, West

[Independent Athletes from Quebec]

I Run To You

PART 10 (50) - Outdoor Sports

'Well, here it goes again,' Frank drew a shallow sigh, as they each ate a piece of traditional fare (egg mayonnaise in this place) slowly. Even on their third year into this smooth-sailing relationship, Frank tried his best to explain to Tessa about how the Lundrigan dinners involved enough delving into potential landmines and even more sources of hidden dynamites, a symptom of coming from the rural nobility and Vdaran monarchy as well, something that Tessa was still getting hang of. 'Mummy won't be happy neither you nor Eileen will make it, but they know business is business and at least papa will calm her so with an old tale from twenty years ago, when he was working with the Foreign Office.'

'Is she still unhappy about what happened back in Christmas?' Tessa asked Frank, her mind somehow still fresh from two-day trip they had to Bron-Yr-Aur estate, when all had gone wrong with the absence of certain personnages the family elders, especially the Baron his uncle, wanted to see. Both Tessa and Eileen, due to Asher opting to spend Christmas at Coxwell Park with the Lauzons, and Frank required to stay in Marzig due to Boxing Day and New Year's Day matches, were absent. Thus their father, the youngest of five, heard plenty from their siblings about those absences. Of course, we cannot blame either of them of course, and better days were spent on Christmas Markets in Marzig and the massive clan they had on that Bridgertonian 8.0 estate, but the implications were still felt. 'You know, your mum would be easier to fly to Vdara if celebrations are what she is looking for...'

'Mummy is mummy.' Frank nodded, as he slowly passed another piece of eggs to her in an act of adorable boyfriend's matter. Not that Tessa was impressed with said act, but hey. 'She likes that you have a clear role in CSKA, and that you aren't breaking hearts, to borrow her words...' Tessa shook her head, signaling him to tone it down in the presence of others. All Frank could do were to smile back at her. 'but don't worry so much about the dinner tomorrow night. It'll all be fine.'

'Listen, if this is because Ash's not saying much about...you know, you don't have to go.' Tessa moved forward, gently touching his hand to gesture not to worry. 'You can always say you're too sick to attend, or have to fly back to Marzig. Of course, this won't earn you favours but who cares?'

'Probably not.' Frank shrugged, trying to highlight that it is in that nature which causes problem for them. 'I think that's even more the reason why I assume, papa asked that I come. Else he'd have just let me travel for the Coupe du Roi. If anything, he's probably heard from those in the Foreign Office and the Party (author's note: reference to Parti Justice du Quebec, third-largest party in the nation with its charismatic leader, Arsene-Pierre Kim) about the...upheavals.'

While preferring to stay out of his brother's affairs, partly due to how tedious they were and the musical preferences- he was much more into rappers back home, some of whom he knew well- Frank Lundrigan wasn't clueless about the sordid tales of madness in every direction about said Smurfgate. Oh the very thought of his brother, whom Frank knew Asher wouldn't have mixed flesh even under those circumstances, stuck in middle of highly awkward situation that involved two of Tessa's future teammates, and Marco Hertel of all persons? Of course, Frank had to restrain his own mind from flying into scary tangents.

'Don't worry about me,' Tessa insisted, hoping that her boyfriend would at least have closure over what she viewed as a typical family dinner. It would be a lie to say that she didn't miss those- most of her professional years she would eat with both her parents (Tim was still working, remember?) five days a year at most- and Tessa liked both his parents in that they knew where to cross the line and intervene, but stayed quiet otherwise. 'Wish Ash the best regards though, alright?'

'Alright.' Frank responded.

---

A day later...

Frank and Asher's parents, neither of them natives to the city, lived in a refurbished version of 19th-century Hanok that drapes much of the capitol's Saint-Lazare district, a recent addition to the houses the pair had lived since their undergraduate days at St. Croix. There were three rooms in the complex, with the master bedroom complemented by office for both their father Robert and mother Athena (de Chanie). The living room, located on a separate building with the kitchen, was fairly packed with groceries and newspapers, suggesting that the space may need some cleaning for another social occasion.

The four Lundrigans, reflecting different state of the family, were coming in different shapes- Athena slim, Robert horizontal, Frank short and Asher filled with girth, and all couldn't have been more evident as they decided to subject themselves to a particularly filling treat of pork belly barbecue.

'So how are you?' It was Asher who broke the ice, as he picked a piece of pork belly from the grill placed on top of the table. 'It's May yet you seem as busy as the taxation agents. Is the Foreign Office still bothering you, as always?'

'Every day, any day,' Robert answered, trying not to make too much of the parliamentary proceedings that had bothered him as of late. With the matriarch, Athena de Chanie, not really answering requests for public enquiries, Kim government officials and members of Parliament had brought him up on regular capacity, causing all sorts of nightmares for the diplomat and former Member of Parliament. 'They have been asking about various current affairs events regarding Chania and Nicosia, as well as upcoming Vdaran elections, something that has brought up the question of republicanism there....all the travesty and pomp those bastards say, getting around with words without substance.' Robert made clear note of his complaint by tapping his neck, the gesture in which Frank immediately responded by pouring Soju at his father's glass.

'So the same old story down in Parlement, the work and whatnot, is what you are suggesting?' Frank asked, trying not to irritate either Asher or Frank. Neither were really bothered about seemingly-apolitical Frank, of course, but this was a Lundrigan family dinner and anything could just erupt out of nowhere. Frank had to do it carefully.

‘Exactly, son. The Foreign Office may request for the ambassador to be recalled, but that’s another matter...a bad sign that neither those in Chania, nor Foreign Office really want to deal with. It’s inconvenient for everybody, you see….’

Asher picked a couple of pork belly pieces with chopstick, before moving it closer to his plate. 'Seems like the same ole. Not that the Vdarans have done much to us anywhere anyway.'

'Nonsense.' Robert responded, trying to remind that the Chania House were still his family, but that second may have been too late. 'Whatever happens there does concern us and whatnot-'

It was the mother, Athena de Chanie, who took grave offence. 'And what makes you the right person to say that, Asher Chania Lundrigan?' She demanded, briefly punching her right fist to signal that enough's enough. 'Is that what you are going to say to your father, after all the miles he went through in order for you and your brother to be born?'

'Well, yes, mummy, but it's clear from the onset that the Vdaran monarchy, however familial, have lost the favour of those people.' Asher tried to reason with her, of course with a careless remark so typical of his. Frank, sitting on the other side of the table, knew this was going to be another long evening. 'It is not really up to us, as gentry, civilians and whatnot..'

'Is that how you are going to say to Eileen?' Athena de Chanie responded, her anger fittingly near the top of the gauge. If there's one word that's going to tick off the former princess, that'd involve Vdaran affairs. Of course, for Asher, it was going to inform any possible slander aimed at Eileen, his boyhood love. 'What will your grandfather, his majesty himself, hear about the matter of practical treason by his grandson, who is back with the woman who destroyed him and will destroy him due time, as they had said....'

'Athena, I'm sure that's not Asher's thinking about,' Robert responded, his glass feeling even more slippery than they were about half an hour ago, when they started grilling the meat and the kimchi on the portable grill. 'But yes, he did not say the most sensible of words when it comes to the matters down there. But it's best not to think about it right now.'

'My apologies, mummy.' Asher gave a half-felt apology, as if he's apologising only out of obligation. 'It wasn't something that I had intended to say, and I will keep quiet for now, about the matter I may know less over.' Frank saw his mother briefly cool down, and slowly rolling her eyes to switch the topic. 'Anyways, I hear that CSKA's playing in Coupe du Roi tonight, hopefully they will do well right?'

'Actually, it just finished an hour ago,' Frank smiled as he raised his shoulders, drawing a nod from both his parents who were much happier when talking about Tessa Maitfield. 'Tess said she'll call in about an hour, so I hope the plane will arrive by end of the night?'

'Tell her not to skip vegetables and of course wash them.' responded the Vdaran princess. 'She's eating well, right?'

'You know better about that than I, mummy,' Frank lightly brushed his hands, to suggest a matter of tease. That's where Frank Lundrigan, Asher's socially-awkward brother, had an advantage over Asher- at least he knew when to provide good humour to his parents. 'I assume we'll probably go out for groceries tomorrow...you know, exactly as the club nutritionist assigned her to do so. You know those people, they are essential to those doing their work.'

'Certainly,' Asher agreed, trying not to make further fight about the spilt milk. 'Tessa will do well with the new manager. I mean, she has to, else the team will be run by a bunch of Zootopia characters, n'est-ce pas?'

'Exactly.' Frank couldn't help but to laugh, as he nodded and grabbed a piece of lettuce.

---

Well, at least the dinner was over.

At least it worked out much better. The last two dinners all four of them had ended up in catastrophes beyond our imagination, whether in the form of burnt meat or a couple of flipped tables over something silly. So, the fact that the Lundrigans were able to avoid a complete eruption over something so petty and simpleton were miraculous on their own right.

As the night progressed, the obvious portraiture of the family had shown. Athena the mother, long burdened with next thousands of days filled with all sorts of daring tasks coming ahead, showed interest in a self-sufficient Schottian with enough issues on her front, so Frank kept her entertained while also chatting about Ortelian teleseries they were happily torrenting under illegal methods. Asher, on the other hand, made sure to entertain updates about Reminiscence VIII, the album by 57-year old conceptual band Hoesahng that Eileen was able to join for one session. The old man, who was a maverick in his twenties, noted with amusement as he watched his son talk about the chords and progressions, before wondering about how time had passed so quickly.


Now both brothers were on their way back home, as they slowly strolled their way back home. For solid five minutes after they left the place, they didn't say anything. The silence, which was only covered by the car noise and the footsteps of night shift workers, were deafening enough as it stood. They both knew what went wrong this time and even though nothing big happened, the same old story had occurred.

'Well, sorry about that.' Asher broke silence, finally acknowledging his fault after three hours. 'I know mummy's still upset over a lot of things bureaucratically here, and I know you don't like those here either. Guess I should have seen it coming.' Wait what???? While Asher was no short in making apologies to himself, him apologising to his brother, whom he didn't really interact much, rarely happened. So this, all in all, was even more of a surprise for Frank.

'It's fine. We know what you go through. I have it easy compared to you.' Frank nodded, feeling the night shiver once again. For one he could feel the Quebecois weather being colder around this part of the day, and thought along. 'She's never at fault, and we all know that.' It only took the entire night and a nearly-spoilt family dinner before something about the familial illness came up.

Frank remembered how he, while lost in middle of a local hospital in San Ortelio en route to pick Asher up, had overheard a conversation between the Tequilian shaman and his brother. Frank knew that based on how obscure of a hospital corner was, and the grim facial expression it held, all seemed clear:

'Don't do this, Asher. You know what is going to happen, and that's not going to be up to the holy Bua himself, to fix the mess you'll find yourself in...' said Isabel the Shaman, warning Asher with graceful hand gesture intended to bring his focus.
'No, Isabel, Eileen deserves someone better than a dying man in me, and that's what you have heard from me.' responded Asher. 'Let the pros come calling, and I'll bless her from the distance. Just watch me.'
'Have you thought of what your happiness means?' Isabel asked. ‘You don’t know what it means to sacrifice-’
'Does it matter? The curse I live with, it's better I die with it than to inflict it upon her!'

Then, like the mangy lion's roar, Frank's thought thread evaporated into the air, as then-fifteen year old Frank ran away, pretending he heard nothing until the morning arrived.

‘...I know I shouldn’t be behaving like this, but you know mummy’s never going to be happy with Eileen for what she knows so little of.’ Asher stroked his forehead, feeling the heat coming out of his overheated head. ‘Eileen, she’s hurt too because I didn’t want her to be hurt by an undeserving lucky bastard in me.’ It was evident that Asher was both the guilty and the victim party tonight, and all were due to layers of personalised feelings that nobody really attempted to discuss on an intimate level.

‘She’s a proud woman. You know that very well, and behave like mummy as well.’ Frank nodded in agreement. Frank wasn’t bitter about what he had seen, and knew why Asher wanted to run away from his expectations, but still, this didn’t help with the matters either. ‘But you do have to make a choice, at some point. Else you're only going to hurt Eileen more. Do you think I'm happy I live on the other side of the continent away from Tessa?’

'Well, no.' Asher shrugged, trying to give off no hint.

'Then you need to prove that you either let Eileen go, or tell her everything.' Frank answered back, looking at his brother for once. Oh, how the time has passed... Frank couldn't help but to realise how the past, from then about seven years ago, and now were overlapping. 'I know you can do it, but please don't drag on for another two years for a commitment you will regret later.'

[New Lusitania and the Algarves]

“IT’S ONLY GONE AND HAPPENED” …
New Lusitania 2-1 Banija
@Estádio Nacional do Jamor (Att: 71 205)

After two months, New Lusitania would see jovial March return to see their final qualifying match from Group Thirteen against Banija, the world champions and ranked number one. With Saltstead playing last placed Belac, the notion that a miracle might be needed was well instilled in the Lusitanian populace.
On Thursday, when the Banijan team touched down at the airport, Lusitanian fans certainly gave them a warm welcome. A crowded hall was a show of Lusitanian hospitality in what would be one of the biggest games of the last matchday. Staying over in the city centre of the capital, the home crowd did not rest and seemed to cause some mischief today carrying the noise long into the night, featuring some not exactly permitted fireworks displays, hoping to give their Selecção any sort of an edge possible. On Saturday evening the stage was set nonetheless and a packed stadium greeted the figures of the moment with some of the nation’s prominent stars and politicians occupying the Tribunal Area. Grilo’s team was a main one and featured Patríce between the sticks; Vinagrete, Ferradura and Cancela in defence; Guerra, Fernando, Palhagueira, Gama and Veiga in midfield with Jota and Paciente up front, Silveira just about fit but the manager not willing to risk it yet. For Banija no chances given with a standard eleven being selected – Tatoh in goal for them, Tibumba, Bultum and Ongosola composed the back three, Okparra, Nzo, Corr and Mboob in midfield as Sene played the roll of attacking midfielder with Jawara and Uster up front.
As the sun was sent over the horizon, the match was underway over the high floodlights of Jamor. A tough game from the start, it didn’t disappoint in any facet of its ninety-minute giving us a true spectacle of the sport with chances, saves and plenty of good football. Jawara constantly tested the wits of the home goalkeeper, Patríce from almost every angle possible, aided, of course, by his counterpart Uster. Both Guerra and Gama got going with hopes for goals through their crosses, but to no avail. New Lusitania surprised the Banijans again with the first goal of the match with the home crowd cheering but hoping this wouldn’t be a repeat of the match in Busukuma as Daniel Jota put it in from a neat cut cross from his left side, coming in from Veiga, controlling it and striking it well. Halftime came and went with the hour mark announcing the ever-persistent concession by the Lusitanian defence. On seventy minutes however, the magical moment appeared.
“Oh … and he’s only gone and done it, it’s in! IT’S IN FOR THE SELECÇÃO!”
Cancela, way at the back, gave an aerial ball which spurred on a great counterattack as it landed on Palhagueira. A through-ball past the half-way line and it found itself on Fernando. With the only one accompanying him being Paciente, he passed the ball once more to move from the defence. One-on-one with the keeper, the Lusitanian captain began the strike. Curving it slightly, it went in and did the crowd go wild. Now the hard part, trying to do twenty minutes of play without conceding, plus whatever stoppages. Corr almost got the equaliser but missed ever so slightly and with the idea of bringing in Leiteiro for Veiga, suddenly a back-four was trying at all costs to last the rest of the match. With the final whistle, the Lusitanian fans could not only breathe a sigh of relief but also celebrate – not only had they beaten Banija but secured the fact that this would not be the end of the road. After the handshakes and formalities, the Lusitanians took to the stands to celebrate in the stands as this was a unique moment in the national team’s history.

… BUT THE JOB’S NOT OVER YET.
Play-Off Preview

So with it all over, Banija was already auto-qualified with forty-three. The Selecção came in second after that win on thirty-eight with an unlikely victory that was detrimental to staying alive after Saltstead had their largest victory on record against Belac (6-0) meaning they finished one point behind. Jeruselem held onto fourth with thirty-three, a large gap to twenty-six points of Oberour Ar Moro. Thibaea (22) edged sixth in a positive world cup back ahead of Vangaziland (21) and Stevidia (20). Melbergia was isolated in ninth with fourteen and The Belacian States only managed the one point.
In the runners-up table, New Lusitania had a competitive group and so finished sixteenth best out of nineteen. The top three, Chromatika (44), Kelssek (43) and Astograth (43) automatically qualified as the top three best of the rest, with the Selecção clearly unseeded. The matches were drawn up by seed and so no draw was needed with New Lusitania getting the most competitive match of them all, against the Independent Athletes of Quebéc (belonging to Royal Kingdom of the same name), who started qualifying one ranking position behind A Equipa de Todos Nós, despite having qualified. In a side by side comparison, New Lusitania scored more (43-38) but conceded more (29-17), roughly double and also finished way behind in the table, evidently the seventh best runners-up. In the rankings update, which acts as an informative stat at the midway point, New Lusitania may have climbed up to the Top 40, but Quebec are now 33rd due to this stellar performance
An extremely attacking side, it will be interesting to see this clash. New Lusitania first travel to Quebec for the match on Wednesday night with the returning clash being at the Jamor, the third match in the stadium this cycle. New Lusitania had made it once to the playoffs when such a phase has been created, back in World Cup 81 where at the time a mid-ranking table team faced Nova Anglicana where two defeats occurred, first a 2-3 defeat at home in the same venue and then a 3-0 loss away at Kelly Park at the time. Francisco Grilo now in command has said “It’s amazing we made it all things considered but now it’s eyes forward and we’re going to give it all we got to make it. It’s definitely a tough tie but we have hope and think it’s possible”
Coragem Nova Lusitânia, there’s still a lot to do.

[Ethane]

Don't you worry, don't you worry child, see Maggie's got a plan for you.

Cutoff for round 1 of the playoffs.

[PotatoFarmers]

Previous RP [Chapter 4 Part 1]

RP Series: Getting to the top
Chapter 4: Can we finally get a different ending?
Part 2: One down, one left

Jabik Henderson, the former goalkeeper and vice-captain of the national team, was reading about the upcoming match his very own Poafmersian team will be playing - the first leg of the playoffs against Omerica. He has been reading up. Apart from helping with the coaching at his former club, Bikarish, and writing guest columns for the two biggest sports newspapers of Poafmersia - The Poafmer Times (which is the biggest news outlet anyway), and Sporting Daily (the biggest daily newspaper dedicated to sports), he was reading up on this up and coming playoffs, between 16 teams all equally capable of being in the World Cup proper. Not to mention that he previously saw the playoffs predicition contest that The Rebel of Chromatika hosted, and he submitted an entry that somehow managed to reached the newspaper in time.

The spread of news reports across the various newspapers was interesting. There were reports that Goldhorns manager Gavin Hughes would be out of the door if they lose their playoffs against TJUN-ia. Jabik Henderson, bucking the trend, clearly predicted for TJUN-ia to win on aggregate against Siovanija & Teusland, without winning away. I mean, he made lots of weird predicitions. He predicted Poafmersia to draw 1-1 at home to Omerica, then draw 2-2 away to advance on away goals. He thought San Ortelio would be able to hold on to Baker Park at home before getting beaten at home. He thought Pasarga would need a win at home to seal the deal. Well, almost none of his first leg predicitions came through. Except the one about Zwangzug winning. And Huayramarca and Tikariot drawing. But Jabik is a very unorthordox person. Maybe to Poafmers, he is unorthordox. There is a reason why even his childhood club, the club he has been in for 20 years as a player, has not called on him to take over as assistant manager when there was the vacancy.

But things haven't been weirder around the multiverse. 2 months ago, before the qualifiers begun, if you have said that this would be the teams at the playoffs, and said that these other set of teams qualified, you would be whacked. Back then, Jabik Henderson said that he predicted that this qualifiers would be a close fight, a rise of the 3rd seeds, and that there may be one or two nations who may risk missing out. Turns out, he was on the right track, but nowhere close to the nonsense that we saw today. But that story has been said many times over, and it would be stupid for us to reiterate that story again.

Poafmersia being in the playoffs, and being just 180 minutes (or 210 minutes and a penalty shoot-out, if it really happens) away from the biggest stage in football, Jabik Henderson took an extra look at the qualifiers few days back, when the entire list of playoffs came through. Understanding about the abilities of Omerica, Jabik Henderson was pretty pleased with the performance of the Red Panjias today. His first post after the match on Chirp.er, Poafmersia's main social media site, was short and sweet. "Good 90 minutes, just 90 more to survive. #GoPoafmersia" Many Poafmers looked at the match with bated breath. Apart from the tens of thousands of fans that were in Fiskadaha to support the team, there were lots more that were around the nation, and yet still had their eyes glued to the match. Starting at 7.45pm local time on a Thursday evening, you would probably be surprised at the number of people. But there was just that many people there, wanting to cheer the Red Panjias on.

The match was a battle of offence. It was literally a race of who to score first. You cannot blame the defence for leaking goals - you should ask whether the offence can put enough pressure and score more goals. It is the same picture as against Farfadillis, just that Farfadillis loves to put so much pressure that they just suffocate you when they are in tip top form. Omerica loves pulling a fast one on you - if you don't keep your eyes on the ball, then it is checkmate for you. That was what happened 8 minutes in, when rightback Sacha Sepulveda ran quickly by the sidelines, did a one-two with midfielder Thom Magalhaes, and then passed the ball to Jamal Ahamd. He then ran forward into space, and as Sandi Jaliaha push the ball out of goal, the rightback ran for the ball and slot it into the other side to put the Incorrigibles ahead.

Poafmersia isn't one to slack when losing by a goal so early on. After all, they can certainly outrun most opponents - the name Red Panjias, or Red Horses for the non-native speakers, is actually representative of the team's abilities. Run as they might, they quickly regrouped. The home crowd just cheered 6 minutes later, when Dargis Walshor made a powerful shot from the left side of the field to equalise. A lot of front-and-back happened, with the ball moving really quickly. There were some nice shots, such as the stinger by Jessie Beckett that Sandi narrowly parried out, or the really close attempt by Pete Carisa that hit the top bar. Nevertheless, it took another 26 minutes for a goal to show up, this time by Joel Haodao who was there to tap the ball in as Daas Taisg made a through pass from 35 yards out.

The second half wasn't short on excitement after all. Gisiik Moonar made a bicycle kick from a clearance by Alex Hoboson in the 56th minute, but the goal was narrowly ruled offside as Gisiik was out of position when the clearance occurred. Then just 3 minutes later, Shakira Handris failed to double the lead after a foul by Charity Kayode on him in the box. A penalty was given, but Valentin Augustin predicted it correctly and collected the ball. In the 62nd minute, it would be an Omerican set-piece that gives the away side an equaliser. Charity Kayode made ammends for that bad foul after heading in the goal from a free kick. It was really well taken. Captain Red Bolton swerved the shot just nice into the box, and Kayode was just in position to head the ball into the top corner, out of reach of the goalkeeper. But you don't count on Poafmersia to take that goal lightly. Just 6 minutes later, it was Whitney Rios who scored this time, after making a real speculative shot from the far side as she recieved the ball from Moonar. It was a terrible shot, but a really good attempt, as it went into goal past a stunned goalkeeper who probably never saw it coming. With 21 minutes left, there was lots to play for. After a series of changes from both sides, it was the Poafmersian captain Shakira Handris, player at Audioslavia's 1830 Cathair, who would double the lead, running past 2 defenders on his own and then beating the goalkeeper on an one-on-one. He may be getting past his prime, but his abilities are still there.

One game down, and Poafmersia maintains a 2-goal lead, albeit not the best 2 goal lead with 2 away goals in Omerica's pocket. Poafmersia will head to the Romainbourg, in the Stade de la République, to play the second leg, needing to not lose to get the golden ticket. Many Poafmers have fond memories of the stadium - after all, it was the place where the "miracle of Omerica" happened. History remembers that fateful night where Poafmersia scored 2 goals in the last 10 minutes of regular time to take the match to extra time, and scored in extra time to create the biggest upset ever, to take the IAC trophy on Poafmersia's 2nd attempt.

It is the yet another night that will go down in history. For good or for bad. Hopefully, nothing bad comes out of it.

Poafmersia 4
Dargis Walshor 14'
Joel Haodao 40' (assist by Taisg)
Whitney Rios 69' (assist by Moonar)
Shakira Handris 84'

Omerica 2
Sacha Sepulveda 8'
Charity Kayode 63'

Lineup for Poafmersia (3-4-3): Sandi Jaliaha; Nasri Sanchez, Mitchel Rosales, Alex Hoboson; Dargis Walshor, Gisiik Moonar, Daas Taisg, Whitney Rios; Joel Haodao, Shakira Handris (c), Pete Carisa
Substitutes: Makana Tuft (Carisa 59'); Hansel Tang (Haodao 75'); Kirsti Nieminen (Moonar 88')

[Zwangzug]

The Kerlagrad Courier

A goal from Sophie Munshi twenty minutes into the encounter at Wayr Stadium was enough for Zwangzug to defeat Terre Septentrionale in the first half of the qualification playoffs. As the second half looms, the football federation has turned its attention to a new dilemma: how to prevent former manager Brandon Sonnabend from accessing the Reçueçn press. "You just know he's going to try to write a derivative tropey doorstopper if given the chance," said beleaguered bureaucrat Ashley Spencer, "and instead of advancing the plot or having characters communicate with each other, he'll just start a subplot complaining about how the kids these days are out of touch and pretentious, and it won't go anywhere."

"Not that I disagree," she admitted, "but there's only so much of that you can take in a nominally football-adjacent publication."

Other sources urged caution, pointing out that Sonnabend is unlikely to be able to spell "Reçueçn" without a long detour through the copy-and-paste functions, and that he probably has better things to do with his time than create such fanciful works. "Honestly, if we hold on for at least a draw in the second leg, I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to take credit for the whole thing," said Claire Hobson-Gledd. "You know, underperform in the first half, motivate the rest of the field to really show what they're capable off. Peace out and make the federation look like hypocrites. Then trust in the players to turn it around, build momentum, and enter the proper on a high. All the cool kids have galaxy brains, and Sonnabend is...well, neither a kid nor cool, but I wouldn't put it past him."

Speaking of cool kids (not really), it may be noteworthy that Munshi was named to the Galactico longlist for cycle 78. The selection is a testament to how she's contributed for both club and country; in her first cycle as a full-time starter for Zwangzug, she has played well on both offense and defense. And of course, the Mierton Manatees' bold pursuit of her paid dividends as they won the Taeshan Premier League with a dominant +68 goal difference. Certainly, both Sonnabend and now Kate DiMarini can consider themselves fortunate that they have her talents to draw on.

What is perhaps more noteworthy is that three other Zwangzugians also made the list, all holdovers from last cycle; Paige Daunten of La Nueva Avenida, Joshua Twoni of Arlington City, and Sydney Stefred, also of Arlington, who went on to make the medium-list XXIII in addition to her Hall of Fame credentials. Her Hall of Fame credentials, because she, like Daunten and Twoni, is nominally retired from national team play (although she was part of the side that defeated Sporting Esper to continue the all-Zwangzugian domination of the Taça das Confederações). Is this, perhaps, a sign that our aging systems are too demanding? If those three are good enough to mix it with the world's elite, aren't they still better options than the unheralded Troy-Vees and Kent-Maners and Gannetts we're stuck with?

For Hobson-Gledd, the answer is "no." "It would be one thing if our league was as organized as some of these other countries and people could have followed McCue and Kowalski on their way from league and IFCF success to the national team. But they can't. So for a nation like ours, Galactico nods are effectively an acknowledgement of long-term class compared to short-term form--yes I understand it's a fallacy, but people like Twoni at least there's data on."

"I'd have rather seen Daunten in there," admitted Charles Loniki. "But that's easy to say in hindsight when you see how the new guy floundered. And playing in Farfadillis is enough to age anyone, innit."

To her credit, Daunten has not been deterred by the Farf Freitball Ligá's, and now the Shango-Fogoa Premier League's, hypertakilan emphasis. The country's attitudes towards large-scale death and devastation, however, may have proved a bit too blasé for the gentle soul. "People die in these fan brawls," she noted, "and when I point out that that's, you know, bad and stuff, my teammates are just like 'eh one death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic.' And that...doesn't make any sense. I thought they were supposed to be good at math." On the other hand, her knowledge of the Ecstasy of Winging saga may make for better tropey doorstoppers than Sonnabend's preferred fare.

Asked for comment about her place in history, on a metaphorical "bench" that includes such legends as Lauren Cheney, Farago rue Cazade, and Xixi Êns, Stefred gave a response that only needed to be bleeped out by the Bassabook bleepinators twice. Perhaps she is mellowing out in her semi-retirement.

[Savojarna]

SavojarSports.sj - inside reports from all Savojarna
Holding on, just about: Savojarna return to the World Cup

By Jaukka Halanen

It was closer than it would have had to be, in the end - but we made it. Facing Königlich Wasserstein, a nation that appears to speak an interesting variety of German not using cases, at home should have been a comparatively easy finish to the campaign. An offensive side that enjoys playing through balls and a flat, central game, they should have been easy pickings for the likes of Victoria Maersk, Roman Forsberg and Polina Zirkova, but it turned out to be different. After six games with only one win, a crucial 4-1 over Abanhfleft at the Bjurman, the team seemed insecure, and despite the team being much closer to the Best XI than we would have expected, Savojarna begun cagey and prone to error, including a lot of missed passes. A diagonal ball by Klaebo in the direction of Misha Jashkin eleven minutes in was illustrative of their issues, as he missed widely and sent it into the stands.

It got worse five minutes later as Maersk made a rare mistake, over-committing on the charging Ziegler and missing Ludwig Dietrich overlapping behind, giving him an opening to cross from the midfield to allow Marius Schreiber a header from close range that Pakanen was hopeless against. The goal seemed to have shaken up Savojarna, and just a few minutes later they almost returned the favour, had Morten Poulsen’s shot from twenty metres not bounced off the crossbar. Maersk then made up for her mistake by a through ball onto Jacobsen, who faked a shot to the bottom left and got a reaction out of Hans Heiko to step over and chip the ball into the now empty goal in style to equalise. It seemed as if Savojarna were now pulling away, with Voynov exploiting the three at the back of Königlich Wasserstein to dazzle the audience with a sharp hook, a tunnel on Alex Lange, and a shot to the near corner to put the score to 2-1, standing quietly in front of the fan block to celebrate. Voynov did not have a joyful air about him, but an air of someone who has simply re-established a natural hierarchy, and this was the feeling with which Savojarna proceeded.

The opposing strikers now no longer seemed to matter, Fuchs and Schreiber not seeing a ball in the five minutes after the goal, and Ziegler made a fool by Maersk multiple times. Jashkin dashed down the right side shortly before the end but couldn’t find Jacobsen on the cross; however, on the corner after, Keller held back Forsberg and earned the Northlights a penalty. Victoria Maersk stepped up, converting to the top right, leaving no chance to Hans Heiko and sending Savojarna into the break with a 3-1 lead, seemingly enough to let them book their flights to Taeshan or Ethane already. Even Königlich Wasserstein’s second goal following a corner didn’t shake that hope, especially after Poulsen converted a pass by Jashkin after 57 minutes to set the score to 4-2. With the game under control, Savojarna went for the defensive approach, substituting Poulsen for Ilkkanen and changing to pretty much a flat five in mid-field.

At this point, the audience still seemed to be all in good form, but then things started to shift in the last twenty minutes. First, out of nowhere, Fuchs got a stumble through the back line and shot from close range; Pakanen getting his arm in between resolved this one for the moment. However, four minutes later it would shift as Timo Franke broke through and was hit on the ankle by Forsberg, resulting in a costly and painful second yellow for the central defender as well as a penalty for Königlich Wasserstein. Marius Schreiber stepped up to the challenge and scored his second of the night, setting the score to 4-3; it also led to Savojarna now playing with ten men. The Northlights were trying desperately to hold on against a Königlich Wasserstein that had found new hope, but six minutes before the end, a bad pass was intercepted and caught them out. The ball was almost cleared, but in the box, Lukas Horn found the ball and pushed it over the line, equalising for the guests. They threw everything at the Savojar goal in the last minutes, but thanks to Pakanen, the team managed to hold on and secure the first spot in the group.

Savojarna 4-4 Königlich Wasserstein (3-1)
Nationalstadion Carl Gustaf Bjurman, Sjoedrhavn/SVJ, 76’800 visitors (sold out)

Goals: 16’ Schreiber 0-1 (Dietrich). 25’ Jacobsen 1-1 (Maersk). 29’ Voynov 2-1. 43’ Maersk 3-1 (penalty). 51’ Böhm 3-2 (Lorenz). 57’ Poulsen 4-2 (Jashkin). 79’ Schreiber 4-3 (penalty). 87’ Horn 4-4.
Yellow cards: 20’ Skov, 41’ Keller, 60’ Forsberg, 86’ Zirkova (all foul).
Red cards: 78’ Forsberg (foul, second yellow).
Remarks: 20’ Poulsen hits crossbar.

Savojarna: Pakanen - Viipuri (71’ Pedersen), Forsberg, Zirkova, Skov - Klaebo (80’ Nymark), Maersk - Voynov, Poulsen (59’ Ilkkanen), Jashkin - Jacobsen

[TJUN-ia]

By Peter Davis

So then...here we are. The greatest TJUN-ian WCQ campaign of all time, with 13 wins and a remarkable 41pts, sends David Seems and his Jaguars to another 2-legged playoff to decide the final entrants of WC87. The situation has changed, of course. The first leg isn't against 36th ranked Chromatika in the National Stadium, oh no. Instead, it's 22nd ranked Siovanija and Teusland in the land of the Goldhorns. David Seems vs Gavin Hughes, Jaguars vs Goldhorns, the United Republics vs the International Community. Add into the mix TJUN-ia's imperious road record (only losing points 3 times out of 9) and the fact that rumours circulating in Score!, the S&T equivalent to Boot It!, hint that Hughes' position may be in danger with a TJUN-ian victory over the 2 legs, and you've got yourself a big game and one that would live up to the hype by the final whistle.

The atmosphere was electric by the time the game kicked off as Siovanijian, Tues and even the of TJUN-ian away section prepared for this epic contest. TJUN-ia in the Orange and Blue away kit, S&T in their Gold and Black. It would be a first-half full of tight football as both teams tried to find the first advantage in a contest as important as you can get. The first 20 minutes were absolute hell for both sets of fans with Kepo Ulawaya and Stanimir Ilev having great chances, but someone did manage to break this deadlock. That would be Lojze Kokalj who send a nice shot past Harold Gylfisson to give the hosts the lead in the 24th. So, we were in a hole, but Joe Green refused to believe that fact. He completed a nice run, started by a Peliniho pass, and shot beautifully past Ewald Heuser in the 34th to tie this contest in front of the home fans. The rest of the half returned to the tightness of before and at half time, it was 1-1. TJUN-ia had the away-goal advantage, but that was the only thing that separated Jags and Goldhorns here.

An advantage on away goals sounded nice of course, but that wasn't enough to David Seems. He wanted a total advantage to give his team the best chance of advancing to their and his first-ever World Cup in front of the National Stadium. So he gave it all in the 2nd half, bringing on the dynamite duo that has turned up for this team ever since the fall of Galar: Prince Carter (on for Peliniho) and Archer Andrews (on for Vladimir Podolov). If TJUN-ia is to qualify for this WC, then it may be on the backs of these two Galarians and many others. The Duo got straight to work, putting in pressure on the S&T backline for a long while. The back four refused to let go and let the Jags get a definite advantage...until they did. It was as simple as a Carter through ball to Andrews in the 76th that finally broke the wall. It would get better from here in the 83rd, a Pedro Vasquez corner headed in by the Prince and sending absolute scenes to the away section. S&T would get a goal back in garbage time (Lukas Tauscher in the 90+1), but that wouldn't change the scenario at the final whistle. TJUN-ia weren't here just to make the numbers anymore and now, they had a 1 goal advantage with the away-goals rule entering the home game in the JagBase in a few days.

The National Stadium hasn't been the best place for TJUN-ian football in its short history, the pre-WC (6W-5D-9L) and WC87 (1W-0D-2L) records can attest to that. No matter who comes to town, this stadium hasn't been the best due to always demanding to host the biggest names in the sport. But this time, this curse that the home of TJUN-ian football can be exorcised even with a defeat. It has hosted some of the greatest teams in the WCC, former champions and rising stars, but if the Jags were to get the job done in front of their faithful, then the scenes would be like none ever seen in TJUN-ian sports. It would be the Block Six in New Washington times by 100, the Slaying of the Dragons in the Unity Center times 400 and Jungle Fever times 500. Ninety minutes separates TJUN-ia's first team with the golden gates of the World Cup. The question is, can the Jaguars step up to the challenge on home turf? Or will the Goldhorns produce a blow so big, it may send us all down the dark path? TJUN-ia City, and potential history, awaits us all. GO JAGS!

---

PLAYOFF - vs Siovanija and Teusland (22)
1st Leg (Nationalstadion, Stelburg, Teusland?): W 3-2
2nd Leg (National Stadium, TJUN-ia City):

[Pasarga]

Lights

There were tons of them, flashes from cameras, phones, and other assorted electronic devices that brought an extra layer of illumination to the field of the Stade Nationale in Reçueçn. The home side was wearing their traditional purple kits with the yellow sleeve and red band across the center of the chest, while the Wanderers were in their white strip with the scarlet accents and green shorts. The stadium was packed to the full thirty thousand capacity, and although the majority of the crowd was wearing either the purple or silver kits of the home side, there was a visible section in the away end wearing the traditional green and a few of the white and even vanta black kits of the visitors. While maybe only numbering around two thousand strong, there was some support there for the traveling team, and thanks to the way the coin flip happened, it would be the end of the pitch that they would be attacking towards in the second half. Handshakes were given, the traditional exchanging of pennants, and then the national anthems were put to the crowd and stadium, the first whistle set the play in motion.

Camera

Griffiths had spent the past month analyzing all of the footage that he and Anna Kováts could muster from the qualifying cycle of how Reçueçn performed, yet he also had their own footage compiled as well. It was not enough to examine the enemy and try to figure out what their tendencies were, where their strength was, and if they had any glaring or subtle weaknesses that could be exploited, the coaching staff needed to assess their own team for those same things in order for a comprehensive assessment to be made. They were going to have to build the right tactic and pick the right starting eleven for that tactic to try and nab a victory in a difficult place to play against a side that had made it to the knockouts of the Finals in the last two tournaments. The margin for error was as thin as the edge of a knife blade and the braintrust of the Wanderers had to exhaust all of their options before them if they were going to find the right formula for getting a result in that first leg. Reçueçn in Griffiths opinion represented the most difficult team that the Wanderers could have gotten in the draw but the task had to be done, so he was going to do it.

Action

The Stade Nationale was brimming with energy, they clearly wanted to be that extra force for the home side to get the advantage and send them to the dual islands with the advantage in the tie. The Reçueçn side was known for being a defensive power house, not quite to the same standard as that of Ko-oren or regional rivals Taeshan, but they were definitely a side that was difficult to break down. However with this being an aggregate affair, Griffiths was banking on the home team deciding to try and attack while in front of their fans and then resort to their usual tactics when they went to the Stade de Torgos, it was what he was counting on in fact. Reviewing the footage had shown that their hosts were in fact difficult to break down, as their reputation had suggested, but when they opened themselves up trying to get that advantage, they could be found out at a pretty decent click. On the flipside, for all the possession that the Wanderers enjoyed in their usual tactics, they were not converting goals at the same way compared to when they were playing in a more fluid counter attacking shape, allowing their foes onto them and then springing the trap and hitting out quickly with their pacy attacking players.

Per Tegeler would give those thunderous home fans something to celebrate as they got onto the end of the cross from the opposite wing and slotted a shot past Ambrus Galambos, as the Turkish keeper could not get back quickly enough across his line to stop the far shot effort. By any measure, it was a well worked effort that had definitely deserved the finishing touch, the fear for the Wanderers though was that now that the home side had their goal, they were going to sit on the lead and try to choke out the game. It had only been twenty-three minutes into the first leg of the affair and yet it seemed for a moment that their entire tactic for the tie was about to be undone. However, this was not the case, as perhaps because of being at home, the hosts continued to try and press their advantage and though they were definitely having the bulk of the possession, their efforts on goal were being kept to long range efforts that were easy enough for Galambos to save, the half coming to a close as one to nil in favor of the hosts. It was not the sort of half that the Wanderers had hoped for but it was far from a nightmare either.

The half time team talk was surprisingly muted, the boss merely telling the side that they had to hold firm and continue to push on, to believe in the plan that they had put in place for this tie and that they result would come. Vojmil Topić was told to warm up, he was being brought on to start the second half, ending Pellegrin Csapó's day about a half hour sooner than the winger had expected it to. It was not an unusual change but it was one usually done on the hour mark or closing in on twenty minutes to go, not at the half, and it definitely ruffled Pellegrin the wrong way, but Vojmil was already getting limber and ready to come on. Elek Salai to was limbering up, as he expected that he was likely to see action in the second half as well, these were the sort of moments that made and broke players careers and he fully intended to make his mark now. On the whole, the squad seemed eager to go back out as the second half started, none too dissuaded by the way the first half went or how Griffiths was remarkably calm at the half time team talk after looking so anxious the last two months. Perhaps they should have been more worried themselves but there was a real feeling of confidence that they just needed one bounce to go their way to be back in the tie and then the ascendency.

The Wanderers' faithful in that end only had to wait for nine minutes into the second half for that bounce to come, as a clearance from Gerauld Firaut took an awkward bounce off of the head of Raoul Lavigne, landing at the feet of Szalyk Földessy. Latching onto the ball, the Ibnii FC midfielder quickly advanced the play before sending it down the touchline as his brother got onto it, whipping it back towards the top of the area. Mária Vöröss chested down the cross and then unleashed her shot on the half volley, that Firaut got a hand to but the pace of the shot kept it going into the top corner despite the keeper's efforts. The breath was taken out of the air of the stadium as the referee signaled the goal and restart while the few thousand Pasargans roared into celebration. There was not only an equalizer but a very important away goal, meaning that a nil nil draw at the Stade de Torgos could see the Wanderers' through if the result held. The hosts themselves knew the situation and despite it not being their forte, they had to keep attacking to at least get a goal advantage going into the away leg.

Unfortunately for the hosts, that was playing exactly into the game that the Wanderers had prepared for, especially when Vöröss was replaced by Ubul Kuruc instead of one of the other two more attack minded midfielders, with Kuruc being a ball winning destroyer in the center of the park, just like Szalyk Földessy. The wall was now built and the waves of the Reçueçn could do nothing but fall upon them and retreat as a coordinated and disciplined Pasargan defense and midfield shadowed every attack and challenged every fifty-fifty ball. This was their time and they were rewarded as Topić swept up one of those loose balls and lofted it over the defense of the home side, Júlia Müller coming out of nowhere with a diving header that sent the ball to the other side of the goal than what Firaut had anticipated and now the Wanderers had the advantage with fourteen minutes left on the clock. Ten minutes later and it was once again Júlia Müller who would get on the scoresheet, using that pace she was known for to break the defensive line and round Firaut once in the box, cheekily lofting the shot over a last ditched effort from Emanuele Cutrona to prevent the score. She stood in front of the Pasargan crowd, pulled her bowstring, and then fired off her top into the crowd, revealing a thermal shirt with the words "All who Wander are not lost" on it, gladly taking the yellow card for the celebration.

Three to one, a massive advantage and yet Griffiths was not at all content with the final result. The team was congratulated and even given a half day off from training for their efforts in the second half, but there was still the worry of what might happen in the trip back to the dual islands. The last time the Wanderers had faced a talented and high ranked foe in the Stade de Torgos, they had been humbled greatly and this job of his had come under fire and scrutiny. A score draw, a win of any measure and the Wanderers and he were through once more to the Finals, it was a strong position to be in, yet doubt and concern beset him. Perhaps seeing the other scores had put that fear in, where only two of the home sides in the first leg had managed to win their game. Playoffs were a lottery, everyone knew that, and even though the first three of the six numbers had all come up the right way, there was still a whole other half to go. A whole other ninety minutes where they had to contend with a talented squad, now one with their backs to the walls, but they would have to attack to do so, something they were not comfortable doing and as his team had already shown, they were more than wiling to play a counter attacking game to progress. At least he'd be able to sleep a little easier on the flight back to Torgos, the tactic already wrote itself...

[Commonwealth of Baker Park]

BIg Flashing OOC Disclaimer

There is NO intention that I am expressing hard feelings about anyone or anything that has been ICly written through the course of this WCQ. Any and all talk or ribbing or joking either IC or on Discord has been taken in the spirit intended. I am in fact quite amused and honored that I've reached the point where "the only thing worse than being talked about is Not being talked about".

MOE on SPORT

Are we the Baddies, now?
Moe Carlton
The Daily Mail Sport Columnist

There's been much talk in the media here and especially abroad about how the World Cup qualifying tournament has played out for the Commonwealth of Baker Park national team, over the course of the 18 matches each of the 190 entrants played; much of the concern at home has been about form, and the perception that perhaps the retirement of half a dozen major NT stars has left gaps that can't be easily filled quickly. We'll tackle this head on, then come back to the way things are being seen elsewhere.

First of all, when placed in perspective, this WCQ campaign has been just about normal in terms of points per game; in the previous five qualifications, not counting World Cup 84 obviously but beginning with cycle 81, BP have averaged 2.44 ppg, and for this tournament, they averaged 2.33. Since their debut in WC 80, when that side lost 6 and drew 2 of 18 matches (not including the playoff versus Qasden), the NT have only lost a total of 10 WCQ matches (83-15-10). That doesn't seem like a fall-off in performance to me.
Additionally, the main issue that has alarmed supporters and pundits alike has been the number of goals allowed, and admittedly is has been unusual to see scores where the Commonwealth have allowed 4 or 5 to their opponent. On the flip side of course is the fact that Vdara & BP were the highest scoring sides in all of the competition at 3.8 goals per game, and the defense has made huge improvements over the current 6 match winning streak.

Let's return to the overseas press and their takes on our progression to date, because it has ranged from puzzlement to amusement. On the one side were the various reviews of the field that expressed surprise that the BP side were not running away with Group 4, which is a backhanded way of saying that Xanneria, Hapilopper, Vdara and Electrum were somehow not quite fit to be on the same field with us, which you and I know is completely insane.
During WC 84 and often again since then, I have been told by fellow journalists and people at random who I've had conversations with that Baker Park are regarded as one of the fairest sporting nations—our supporters, our press, our teams—in the multiverse. We do not disrespect opponents before, during or after a match—ok, there are a couple of prominent examples that really are the exceptions that prove the rule—and I have seen our NT players offer to swap shirts with opponents almost as a matter of fact gesture. Even the Qads deep down know that we aren't really evil.

At the opposite extreme are the tiny minority who revel in our misfortunes (I give a free pass to the above mentioned Vans, because really if anyone has earned the right, it's them), and maybe we've come far enough that we can shrug off those jabs and barbs as part & parcel of being the champions of Atlantian Oceania and a consistent Top 10 nation. Maybe the saying that “my haters make me more famous” is the attitude I should take—because these are really gut reaction feelings I have, not necessarily how the general fandom or the national team themselves feel. No one would ever rationally argue that Moe Carlton has a finger on the pulse of the general public, not if you've read more than two columns of mine through the years.

San Ortelians, welcome to our nation and much respect to your team. We expect that we'll be crossing paths on the road to the World Cup again in the near future.




Moe on Sport appears twice a week in The Daily Mail and every other week in The Mail on Sunday.

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

That most precious of results - an away playoff win with two away goals - had gladdened the heart of Juan Tzimisces (each and every one of him); yet South Covello's 89th minute goal ensured that the return leg would still be a nail-biter. Tzimisces had tried training himself in goal - had even considered removing his goalkeeping self from the Ordinary Reality space-time continuum to give himself a couple of centuries of subjective time practice before deciding this might be construed as cheating - but it definitely remained the team's weak spot. He was embarrassed at being so clearly out of position for a goal that had given the opposition a lifeline going into the return leg. Elsewhere, an acquaintance in Banija had made the Holy Empire Football Association aware of a story relating to the latter country's future (as observed from the mundy perspective of World Cup 87), though it takes the form of a synopsis of a possibly somewhat dramatised film made a year or two after the events it describes.

It is the time of World Cup 174. Kabaka Albert V sits on the throne of Banija; the Isebantu (and Waziri) is Albert's ambitious son Mugisha.

This is, alas, a time of strife. The Kabaka is much loved by the people, but the Isebantu lusts for power. His supporters seek to undermine the Kabaka at every turn. Mugisha plots with many Omugabe and other nobles to force his father from the throne. Though Banija has risen to economic prosperity under Albert's rule, many groups of bandits and other petty criminals roam the streets of Istria. This saddens many who had seen Istria become one of the economic, technological, and cultural capitals of Atlantian Oceania before the recent unrest.

One apartment building on the outskirts of Istria has been attacked by bandits many times. Its residents are tired of the lack of support they have received from the authorities. Taking matters into their own hands, they have placed a call for independent private security consultants to protect the building from another attack. In this time of technological wonders, seven cyber-samurai have answered the call. Though the pay is low - no more than food and lodging for the duration - honour and duty drive the cyber-samurai.

They are:

Juan Tzimices, a war-weary but honourable and strategic samurai, and the leader of the seven; his name seems oddly familiar to the residents, though they can't quite place why.
Simeone Di Bradini, An old friend and former lieutenant of Tzimisces whose name also seems oddly familiar.
Kikuchiyo Tanner, a humorous, mercurial and temperamental rogue who seems to be hiding a secret from his past.
Katsushirō O'Reilly, the untested son of a wealthy landowner, whom Tzimisces has reluctantly taken in as an apprentice.
Heihachi Chico, an amiable though less-skilled fighter, whose charm and wit maintain his comrades' morale in the face of adversity.
Kyūzō Lee, a serious, stone-faced and supremely skilled swordsman.
Gorōbei Britt, a skilled archer and knife-wielder who has helped create the master plan for the apartment block's defense.

Together, they have journeyed to the Istrian apartment bloc, where the locals treat them like poisonous toads. Despite the deep and abiding gaps of mistrust, the seven gradually win over their hosts, as well as training them for the battle to come. Along the way, Katsushiro O'Reilly falls for one of the resident girls, in a move that certainly won't end in tears and hurt feelings for all concerned.

The first skirmishes go well, as the residents kills two bandit scouts and capture a third (and tear him apart despite Tzimisces disapproval). A raid on the bandits' warehouse headquarters leave it burning to the ground. They suffer loses themselves, however: Heihachi Chico is killed at the fortress, and a subsequent attack claims more of their number. The bandits have laser guns; only three, but enough to make the lives of the cyber-samurai more difficult given they eschew modern ranged weapons in favour of martial arts, ancient weaponry such as bows and swords, and their technological advanced cyberware and bioware (neurowhips built into their arms; cyber-eyes enhancing their vision; enhanced reflexes; etc.). This prompts Kyuzo Lee to steal a laser gun from their camp and destroy it; and Kikuchiyo Tanner follows suit (in his own unique is-he-drunk-or-what style).

Subsequent raids winnow the bandits' ranks further, as Tzimisces lures a few of them in at a time, and then cuts them off from their supporters. It works, but Kikuchiyo Tanner's earlier stunt with the gun leaves a key defencee unmanned, and in the resulting chaos they lose several residents and Gorobei Britt.

That night, Tzimisces tells them his strategy to defeat the bandits once and for all: lure them to a nearby football pitch. As the apartment residents pretend to play a football match, and deliberately mistake the bandits as an opposing football team coming to play them for a game, the samurai will prepare an ambush. The girl's father shows up and objects to his daughter falling in love with Katsushiro O'Reilly. They gradually talk him down though, and the residents get ready to play football. Katsushiro O'Reilly and the girl make sweet, passionate love through the night.

Said football match arrives in the middle of a pouring rainstorm because storms always make these things more dramatic. Strangely, the bandits are initially so non-plussed by the residents playing football that - in their confusion - they agree to actually play the match. This ends in a 3-2 victory for the residents following a dramatic late winner by the father of the peasant girl. At this point the cyber-samurai emerge from their hiding places, and attack the bandits. Though they are victorious, they are caught unawares by two of the bandits - who may have been confused by the football match, but took some basic precautions - who were still carrying their laser guns. Kyuzo Lee is killed by a laser, and so is Kikuchiyo Tanner - though before he goes, Kikuchiyo performs a truly miraculous feat by killing the bandit chief with his titanium cyber claws that are in no way, shape, or form based on cyber claws wielded in other forms of popular culture. Alas, Katsushiro O'Reilly's love has died in the cross-fire, uniting O'Reilly and the girl's father in their pain.

The three surviving cyber-samurai, Tzimisces, Di Bradini, and Katsushiro O'Reilly are left to observe the residents happily leaving the building to finally do some shopping safely, and without risking bandit attacks. The samurai reflect on the relationship between the cyber-samurai and the residents: though they have won the battle for the residents, they were unable to play in and win the football match. "Again we are defeated," Tzimisces muses. "The residents have won the football match. Not us. We have merely shed blood. Theirs is the greater victory."

[Tikariot]

OOC Disclaimer: Soundtrack: Wardruna - Helvegen

Darkness. The howl of the wind can be heard, the soft rustle of grass. The screech of a preying owl pierces the blackness, which is slowly lifting to show a solitary torch set in the ground at what looks the edge of a precipice, sparsely illuminated by the pale light of the moon that is barely penetrating the cloud cover. As the camera moves closer to the flickering torch, it does not manage pass through the ever wandering, dancing shadows across the hood of The Shadow’s robe, looking out across the vast expanse of darkness ahead and below. Without acknowledging the presence of the camera, he begins to speak in a low voice, barely above the sounds of the wind yet with an edge that gives it distinction to be heard loud and clear at the same time.

The Shadow: Light is the fuel of life, it is what keeps things going. It has since the beginning of time. Take away light and slowly life will wither away and die. It is the same with hope. If you see every strand of hope slip out of your hands without you being able to do anything about it, you, too, will begin to wither. But this also is the exact moment in time, where a decision is made. Give in to the darkness or fight it. Let yourself wither away into oblivion or take fate into your both hands and take over the rudder.

Now you might wonder about people like me, who keep to the shadows. Shine bright enough of a light on me or the Dark Tide overall and banish us from existence.

The shake of his head is barely visible.

The Shadow: Even the brightest light will cast a shadow. But even the brightest light you could conjure up, will not be able to stem the Dark Tide from washing over you, taking you away. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.

The cawing of several crows can be heard, even though they cannot be seen in the darkness, but the image slowly shifts to the view of a stadium, on the outskirts of Bul Khungur, partially built into one of the steep mountains surrounding the town, its outer wall built out of black basalt.

The Shadow: People have been wondering why one of the smallest stadiums in one of the most forbidding places would be chosen for the most important game of Tikariot's history. The Temple of the Crow.

The camera moves along the wall towards the entrance, which looks even more foreboding, with a large crow's head jutting out over the turnstiles leading into the stadium proper, torches the only source of light in the fading twilight, their flickering flames almost giving the carved head the impression of movement.

The Shadow: There is no more fitting place for the game. There is no need for glitz and glamour. There is no need for the bright lights and the shiny and sleek modernity.

The inside of the stadium reflects that, with black basalt forming the stands, even the seats all black for the occasion. Where in most modern stadiums there is ample space for the attending fans and wide open spaces, the Temple of the Crow feels tight, almost cramped with its terraces steep and narrow, making even the empty stadium emanate this ominous, intense aura as every seat feels closer to the pitch than in other stadiums.

The Shadow: The first match ended 1-1 in Huayramarca, leaving all options open for the second and final chapter of the qualifying campaign, a tug of war for who will be the last nation standing. And so they come out about the psychological advantage of having drawn abroad. Of how a 0-0 would suffice, about this and that. This is not about mathematics anymore, this is about winning, nothing else. The one psychological advantage they are right about, is to play at home second.

The picture cuts to standing on the pitch and as the camera turns, it shows the cavernous hollow that half the stadium is in, the steep terraces, which together with the black basalt creates this feeling of the stadium looming over you, of the seats and the roof closing in, making the atmosphere feeling almost claustrophobic.

The Shadow: Look at the Temple, imagine it filled to the last seat. Seventeen thousand fans dressed in black. The thunder clap, performed in perfect unison, the shouts, the claps resonating within the stadium, being amplified. Feeling like they are right next to you. Now you have the pressure to score, to make the first move. You have the pressure to come from behind, but have the Dark Tide standing against you, eclipsing the sun, its darkness seeping into your spirit, leeching off your confidence. Welcome to the Temple of the Crow!

During this part the picture of the empty Temple of the Crow is interspersed with brief shots of it filled with fans, depicting scenes as The Shadow described.

The Shadow: You can bring your shamans if you want, Huayramarca, you can beseech the gods to come to your aid, but it will be for naught. Just like every empire will fall, like every monument will crumble, your hopes will also turn to ashes. Your games will soon be the ruins of your past and when the night finally will fall upon you, this campaign will be nothing but a fleeting memory, a spectre dissolving into darkness…

While saying these last words he flings the torch into the air, the dying rays of it getting lost in the all consuming darkness below, leaving behind nothing but blackness and the howl of the wind.

[Omerica]

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Omerica v Poafmersia: Well, it’s been nice knowing you, folks!
By Sydney Alexander

But the general consensus in the United Republics is that even if Poafmersia beat the Incorrigibles in a landslide, just getting to this stage represents an incredible victory. So long as Omerica are merely back for the World Cup 88 qualifying cycle without incident—and even if the Incorrigibles lose every game for the next two years—, this playoff will have been an unbelievable success. Qualification would be an absolute godsend.
— Sydney Alexander, Poafmersia v Omerica: World Cup qualifying playoff preview

So the first leg in Fiskadaha has probably cooked Omerica’s hope of a first trip to the World Cup finals in twenty-six years.

And let’s be honest here: the historical record had exactly zero good things to say about playoffs for the Incorrigibles. In the dying days of the Omerican Football Federation, Omerica were defeated by Electrum at the Olympic Stadium before being knocked out by a draw at the Arena la Rouge. Sixteen years later, the Incorrigibles were overcome by Kelssek in Busukuma, eliminated by a draw against Savojarna the next matchday and humbled by Krytenia in a dead rubber. Now eight years on from that disaster, Poafmersia have become the latest team to get one over on the Incorrigibles in a qualifying playoff, winning 4–2 in their own home ground to get one step closer to their first ever appearance at the World Cup finals.

By all rights, Omerica are nominally still in it, as a win by three goals of more or by a 2–0 or 3–1 margin will win the tie for the Incorrigibles. Several teams are currently sitting in objectively worse positions: South Covello and New Lusitania lost 2–1 at home, Siovanija-Teusland lost 3–2 at home, Reçueçn lost 3–1 at home, San Ortelio lost 4–2 at home and Terre Septentrionale were the only seeded team not to score in the first leg. And unlike (say) New Lusitania, who had to beat reigning world champions Banija to advance, Omerica have not outright defeated a higher-ranked team—such as Poafmersia—in a qualifying match in two whole cycles: the last time was when a second-string pulled one over on Qasden in a final matchday dead rubber. Those other teams have hope; we realistically only have prayer.

As for the match in Romainbourg, Stephanidis’s side are taking an uncharacteristically defensive stance. One of the main goals for the second leg is simply to not concede an away goal, lest Omerica’s job be made more monumentally difficult than it already is. As such, the attacking Triad will be taking a step back in favour of a strike partnership: Jean-François Fernand will be benched, leaving Jessie Beckett and Jamal Ahmad to carry out the main offensive work for Omerica. Fernand will be replaced on the pitch by a fifth defender in Frédérique Marquetti, furthering Stephanidis’s usual goal of locking down the centre of the park, which the team struggled to do at the Libira National Stadium.

On the opposite side, Adnan Suliaha’s side has more positives to take from the first leg than negatives. Poafmersia’s high-pressure tactics, when combined with the high stakes of the tie, were highly effective at breaking the nerve of the visitors. While Poafmersia would be perfectly justified in parking the bus and trying to pounce for an away goal to seal the tie, why mess with a tactic that has worked like a charm? It’s not as if the Red Panjias don’t know how to score at the Stade de la République—they had to do it twice in ten minutes against a highly favoured Huelavia side to take the IAC X grand final to extra time. Surely they want to do it again.

“We made too many sloppy mistakes in Fiskadaha and Poafmersia rightfully made us pay for it,” Stephanidis stated. “Poafmersia are a quality side who deserve their plaudits and I see no shame in losing a playoff to them. It was tiring work fending off Equestria to get here and we have to overcome that if we want to qualify.”

And boy was it tiring work indeed. After leaving Canterlot with a draw, the very concept of this article sounded unbelievable. Luckily Lorrana opened up a golden opportunity for the Incorrigibles to take second, but it took four wins on the bounce to get to seal it. Equestria refused to blink in the last three games, forcing Omerica to be absolutely perfect and to set a new record for their longest ever unbeaten run—previously thirteen games between the start of IAC 7 and an ill-fated trip to Brigantii on matchday 9 of World Cup 83 qualifying—to hold on. It’s not beyond the pale to imagine that it all took too much out of these players and that Omerica were overdue for reversion to the mean.

It’s a Newmanistani journalist, namely Taylor Larson of The Rocket Report, who put it best: “Isn’t that what Omerica always does? Hang around to make people notice and get concerned but never actually advance?” We’ll just celebrate the fact that the Incorrigibles are here in the first place, give Poafmersia a warm welcome back to Romainbourg and wish the playoff winners-elect well in their World Cup finals début. ◇

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Other Football News:
• Off The Pitch: A Casimir Paquet presidency becomes virtually assured with an endorsement by the governing Socialists
• WCQ87 playoffs: TJUN-ia stand on the brink of the World Cup finals after stunning Siovanija-Teusland in Atlantian Oceania
• CoH 79 preview: Handicapping the unusually stacked consolation tournament in Cassadaigua and Northwest Kalactin

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Omerica v Poafmersia
World Cup 87 qualification — Playoff Leg Two
Stade de la République, Romainbourg, Romainbourg
Omerica lineup (5–3–2): Valentine Augustin; Alphonse Notley, Charity Kayode, Frédérique Marquetti, Raphaël Martin, Sacha Sepulveda; Red Bolton, Fearchar Mac Cléirich, Thom Magalhaes; Jessie Beckett, Jamal Ahmad
Substitutes: Alexandra McGuire, Annelise Betancourt; Darcy Francis, Justin Thyme, Felix Zanetti; Maxime Fournier, Soraya Archambault, Nadiya al-Hashim; Maïa Bustos, Jean-François Fernand, Alexis Chrysanthos, Adélaïde Argyris