Pierre Sep Tonh stood on the sideline as he watched his team work towards clinching their playoff spot in the World Cup. They were playing Otksarin, the hosts of this WC, and the home crowd was rather angry at how the match was going right now.
There was a bench available, but he chose to keep standing. He had never thought he could be standing here at this moment, even just a few short days ago. He dangerously let his thoughts wander...
He had been one of those so-called ‘Pioneers of modern day sepak takraw’ in Dao Chonh, coming up as a young player. As with many things in his home archipelago, even sport was politicized. There were those sports that were native to the islands and their Wishtonian neighbors, and those that felt forced - imported by the Gaulic overlords who still claimed the tropic islands for themselves.
Dao Chonh, or Dachine as the Gauls insisted on calling the islands, was one of their last colonial claims going into the 21st Century (although it was more politically correct to call it a protected territory than colony these days.) Hence, the cultural struggle had become more intense as the Gauls pressed, then pulled back, over and over. They were well aware of the reverse psychological effect their pushing had on the native islanders, but they just couldn’t help themselves.
Football had seen popularity in waves, mainly because of its success in the developing world rather than its touted spot at the top of the Western elite nations pyramid of sports. But it was sepak takraw that held the imagination of the Dao Chongese, more than anything.
When they joined the LSST, they had felt that they stood a chance of having a good showing, but those hopes were dashed pretty quickly. The pride sport of Dao Chonh didn’t make them automatic champions in the greater ST community. They were shockingly outclassed by a lot of nations, most of them in the Melayu Archipelago.
Then the first STWC of the newly established STIC was held in Squidroidia. It was another blow to them at how poorly the Kromochom Rooscheet Sepak Takraw Dao Chonh performed on the world stage. A lot of angry words were exchanged, and admonishments given, but true to Dao Chongese culture, no one was sacked. Redemption was a closely held virtue, and Coach Sep Tonh and his team must have another shot to prove they were serious champions.
They were the cream of the crop after all. The best that the Dao Chongese leagues had to offer gathered on one All-Star team. If they had no hope, what future did sepak takraw have in the islands?
The pressure had been intense on Pierre, as well as some of the players. Even his Franco-Gaulic given name was questioned. Why didn’t he change it like a lot of the Dao Chongese patriots had done? Was he just another Gaulic lackey?
Pierre didn’t much care about the cultural origins of his name. What mattered to him was that it was passed down from his grandfather, and he wasn’t about to dishonor his family in that way, after he already felt he had in his lackluster coaching during their international debut. He said as much in press conferences to the naysayers. They needed to support the players, not rip down the team for such trivial matters as who carried what name.
Like everything, that fell to the wayside as strife in the islands became more intense as the people bucked at Gaulic colonial rule. Dao Chonh was a tinderbox, more than it had been during several protestations and rebellions in the past. Gaul was fighting on other fronts in Wishtonia against the spread of Marxism and the evil operations of the ISVC. They had been clear that they would come down fiercely on the resistance leadership should they be challenged during their ‘peacekeeping efforts’ elsewhere.
More than anything, the Dao Chongese needed a win, or at least a damn good showing, to give the people something to hope for other than the blood of their foreign rulers.
For that, the Coach was thankful. Even if they couldn’t scrape their way into the finals, they had given the people something else positive to talk about and take their mind off the anger and hate.
Herbert Deng hammered the final 21st point home in this second match, kicking it under the arm of Topher Reinhold and through to the court below for the 7th unanswered point. The Coach clenched his fist in victory, then called them in for one last talk before the final tie-breaking match. They had more than hope on their side, they had fire.
