Oberour Ar Moro 2-3 Tumbra
(4-3-3): 13 - Jones; 3 - Renton (18 - Hawthorn, 83'), 20 - Wyatt, 4 - Kerr, 2 - Mercurio; 6 - Harrison, 8 - Finnemore, 10 - Batten (23 - Monaghan, 63'); 9 - Crossley (17 - Hardaker, 75'), 7 - Wells; 11 - Harding
Scorers: Harding (15'), Wells (68', 90+5')
Player of the Match: Valerie Wells
Aleiusia
Pee-pee-peeeeeeep!
And there it was. The final whistle had blown, and the Junior Eagles had avoided extra time once more thanks to a Valerie Wells winner. Really, she'd spearheaded the counterattack, starting the resurgence after going 2-1 down in the first half. Her first goal - the third of the tournament - ended up being on the fast counter, with a Paul Harding through ball to the advancing winger catching her, before she masterfully cut in and scored on the edge of the box. Her second goal — scored in injury time, no less, was the result of a Stephen Kerr tackle, a pass to that boundless source of energy, Trudy Harrison, who herself went on a run, found Wells on the edge of the box with another long pass. Wells duly put it away, in what proved to be the last kick of the game.
That kick ended up winning the Under-18 World Cup. Tumbra's first international trophy. Something that could never, ever be taken away from them. Senior team or not, it was a trophy.
And as the team gathered on pitch to receive their medals - the question of who would lift the coveted trophy in the air remained. Typically, the role went to the captain, but there hadn't been a captain named. Barton had told Stephen to go and receive the trophy — he vaguely mentioned something about "controlling the narrative now that the story had gone out of control" — but as he gazed upon a slightly crestfallen Trudy, who'd been passed over, a pang in his heart for his newly-found friend told him to do something else, to defy what Barton had said, and to make the issue that Trudy wanted to focus on — the merging of the women's and men's game in Tumbra — take front and centre stage on the news. If the media were going to post this - and they had to, for their victory had become common knowledge in Tumbra — they were going to post a picture of the two of them lifting the trophy.
So he beckoned her with his hand. She initially shook her head, but after he repeated the gesture, she smiled, gave in, and hopped over to the trophy. She smiled, as the grasped one ear of the trophy, and he the other. On the count of three, they lifted the trophy, and the 23 young men and women, adorned with their gold medals, cheered as the confetti fell around them, and the shutters of cameras went off.
It felt good to win.
Later
The two found themselves alone in the airport, a moment of peace in the relative chaos of everyone preparing to head home. To Tumbra. It'd felt like an eternity since they were last there, and soon they'd be home - a mere eight hour flight separated them from the absolute chaos that was about to go down. It was late at night in the departures lobby, and most of the team was asleep, trying to catch forty winks before the red-eye flight. Both of them knew this might have been the last chance to talk to each other, and as soon as they made sure that there was nobody else awake to listen in on them, Trudy went up to Stephen, sat down, let out a long sigh and relaxed her shoulders. Stephen knew exactly how she felt.
"What made you do that? Barton himself said that you'd be in charge of lifting the trophy."
"Trudy, don't you dare tell me that you would've let me live it down. Plus, I only thought it fair."
"Is he...mad at you or anything?"
"I smoothed things over with him. Said that since it was out of control, anyway, we'd try to steer it onto our own paths."
"I'm not ready for this, Stephen. Whatever awaits us in Straton..." Trudy looked away. For the first time, the veneer of self-confidence had faded away, and for the first time Stephen saw just a teenage girl, thrust into a world that she was struggling to survive in. Gone was the shouty, assertive leader on the pitch, and now she seemed genuinely afraid of what was to happen. Nobody could blame her, of course. The Tumbran media was known for being unflinchingly brutal, and several tabloids would reserve some of their most venomous comments for the slow march towards gradual equality. Granted, of course, the election would and did dominate home - but after the Under-21 team's 5-4 loss to Pemecutan, a sharp distinction would be drawn between one Junior Eagles' last minute winner and the other Junior Eagles' last minute loser. There was a reason why every professional Tumbran football player had been made to go through a media relations course - but Trudy and the rest of the girls had never been afforded this luxury.
"But I am," said Stephen, voice lowering, delicately, as he tried to assuage the defensive midfielder. "Me and the boys'll do my best to handle them. All you and the other eight girls need to do is walk towards the bus. Don't show any emotion, don't show any fear."
Trudy looked back up, the glint of a tear appearing in the corner of her eye, but trying to do her best to muster a smile.
"I'm really sorry for all I've done."
"Hey, I told you it was okay. I'd have retwiited it anyway."
"You're a good friend, Stephen. You're a good man."
"You do know that twiit went viral, right? Several clubs have reached out to Daniel. And Daniel, well, he reached out to me. They want to take you guys on."
"They, meaning? And from where?"
"Well...apparently there were a ton of clubs who were interested in you lot, after the performance in the quarter-finals against the Agave-Blues. Dan let me know that clubs from all over the globe - Chromatika, Quebec, Kelssek, Brenecia, Cassadaigua...they were all interested."
Trudy's eyes widened at the words Stephen had just uttered. It was difficult to describe, but it was the look of hope. That she, and the rest, would be able to pursue professional careers outside of Tumbra. And these weren't just any old nations either. The first four were highly-rated, and Cassadaigua, even if they weren't as highly rated, were well-known, and would be ascending the ranks of global football soon. That, and they were well known for encouraging female footballers.
"You're joking."
Stephen smiled again. "I'm not. I wouldn't. Especially not with this. I know you care. And I do, too."
"But why?"
The smile turned into a wide grin, and Stephen saw his opportunity to finally get one back over Trudy.
"Because you're interesting." He barely got a laugh in before another one of Trudy's slaps landed on his arm. There it was. It stung, like usual, and as he rubbed his arm, he noticed Trudy trying to look mad, but her expression gave it away. She, too, got the joke.
And, instinctively, he put both his arms around her, and embraced her. She was caught off guard, of course - but once she got over the shock of it, she returned the embrace. It was warm, enjoyable, and perhaps the best hug Stephen had had in a while, and when it eventually came to an end, both looked away, perhaps sheepishly.
"And what was that for?"
"To say thanks. On my part."
Straton
The flight had been peaceful - for the most part, the lights had been off, and Stephen had been watching Four Happy Families on the way back to Tumbra. He sneaked occasional glances at Trudy, who'd been just glancing out of the window into the star-encrusted sky, one of the few members of the team who weren't still asleep. He wondered what she was thinking - then, as he glanced at the in-flight map, he realised they were closer and closer to a landing.
And his heart began to sink. For all the assurances he'd given Trudy, and all the browbeating he'd done to the rest of the guys to protect them — Richard Russell, who'd been dropped for Vic Jones halfway through the tournament, was a particularly hard one to convince — he still wasn't confident. He'd gotten all of them on his side, in the end, but they were a bunch of 16, 17 and 18 year olds, who in no way deserved to be interrogated by the press (he thought) like this.
And as the plane landed on the runway with a gentle bump, the lights came on, and everyone groggily packed up their stuff and headed over to the terminal. It was a cold, crisp morning in Tumbra, by the look of things - the sky had been rapidly brightening, and now resembled a shade of azure than the navy it was a few hours back - and it was time for another day in Tumbra.
Immigration was easy, remarkably so - everyone knew who they were, so there had been no problem coming back into the country - and as they waited for the luggage to come round, several of the team caught the media scrum that had gathered outside, and sighed.
"All right, what we've feared is here. Them. We've been over this. We know what to do."
The company nodded, determined, and after the last player had picked up their luggage, they walked bravely into a new world - one of vicious camera flashes, questions being bombarded at every angle, et cetera. But they just kept walking, with the guys stopping occasionally to give a non-answer. Stephen followed behind.
A microphone was shoved into his face.
"Stephen Kerr, you lifted the trophy along with Trudy Harrison, a female player, no less. What are your thoughts on females in the modern game - do they have a place?"
"I think that everyone has a place in the modern game, and we should be exploring options to allow, of course, more participation into the People's Game. Of course, if you want more information, you'll have to ask the Federation, since I'm not privy to the options they're exploring."
Walk, just walk. Trudy's up ahead. Why is she so far behind?
It turned out that she'd completely frozen, a microphone being shoved into her face. She tried to stammer out an answer, but couldn't think of anything. Once more, Stephen went to her side, put an arm over her shoulder, and spoke with a tone that she'd hardly heard before.
"I think if there are any questions, you'd be better off asking them to me, or direct them to the Football Federation proper. If you'll excuse us, we've got a bus to catch."
He guided her away, and as soon as they reached the bus, he guided her to the back, where they both collapsed, essentially, and she buried her face into his jacket. A small sob could be heard.
"It's all right now. You're with me." He patted her on the arm.
"Thanks...I was...really scared out there. Winning a football match...? Easy. Dealing with them, out there? Whole 'nother matter..."
"I know. I know. You'll get used to it."
The bus set off, pursued by the chasing reporters, but they gave up after a while. Scoop-less.
A Few Weeks Later
Stephen had signed a professional contract with Straton - a formality, of course, given the team's victory - and had begun training in earnest, with the hope of breaking into the senior team sooner than later. He'd already begun training with them - and had come face to face with Vázsony Sallay, the club's next big star. Soon, Stephen thought, he'd be sharing the same pitch with them. And then? On to bigger things.
Trudy had stayed in Straton, too - as had the rest of the Nine, as the media had nicknamed them - it was, after all, easier for them to negotiate contracts with the teams that wanted them. The Federation had originally not wanted to pay for the hotel lodgings, but in the end, they'd relented. They were already facing a PR nightmare over the future of females in the game, and the last thing they wanted to happen was for another scandal over restricting female players' rights to sign contracts, especially when they were so disadvantaged already. Dan Galbraith, too, had flown in from Perce; he'd be guiding the contract negotiations, and hopefully convincing some of the Nine to sign for his club, too.
In the meantime, Stephen and Trudy had met up several times, doing different things each time - one week it was a museum, the next, an ice-cream parlour; enjoying each other's company, getting to know each other more, becoming closer and closer.
Then, on their sixth meeting, she broke the news. It was another shimmering evening, the sun setting over Straton Harbour. The orange glowed over them, as it had their first meeting in Kven, all those weeks ago. Once again, he was the first one to speak.
"It's been a beautiful day, hasn't it? It's been nice. Same time next week?"
"Stevie..."
"Yeah?'
"Stevie, this'll be the last time in a while we'll be meeting."
"What?"
She turned to him. "I've signed a contract."
"That's wonderful, wonderful news, Trudy! Oh, I'm...oh." The realisation dawned on Stephen, and as much as he wanted to be happy for Trudy, he couldn't help but wish she'd stay in Tumbra. It was wishful thinking, of course, but...
A small but wistful smile escaped from Trudy's lips. "I'm going to Chromatika. They've got one of the best youth setups in the world, and...well...I had to. I'll keep in touch with you, Stephen, I promise. And if I ever find myself back in Tumbra, I promise I'll meet up with you."
Stephen nodded. "I know. All of this...all of it, had to come to an end, someday. It sucks that it couldn't last longer. But...that's the end of it, I suppose."
"That's the end of this chapter, perhaps, but the beginnings of a new one. Plus, you've got my number. And we can video-call."
"I know." A swell of emotions was welling up, and a tear began appearing in his eye.
"You're not...crying...are you?"
"How am I supposed to answer that?"
"Aw. I'll miss you, you know. But I'll always be here for you. No matter what."
"I know. I'll miss you, too. And I'll always be there for you. I promise."
And underneath the setting sun, both of them walked towards each other, and they embraced once more.