World Cup LXI (61) RP Thread

[Wild Isle]

WildIsle 2-2 ArcadianIsles






Pua'o sat in his small hut, reading a thick, worn out book, the title read:

Micho ur Taparuamotu

Pua'o could recite this book from memory, but he read the first page anyway...


Taparuamotu Legends

The beggining of the Uhungawha

In the beggining, there was nothing, nothing but whatwha, whatwha was everywhere, and nowhere, whatwha was the only thing that existed. Then a mystical force pulled every last drop of whatwha into a sphere. That sphere remained unchanged for thousands and thousands of years. Then again, the mystical force beagan once again, shaped out of nothing, came fiiwha. Fiiwha, unlike whatwha was uncontrolable, and it thrashed out in all derections, it smacked the sphere of whatwha.The whatwha, engulfed the fiiwha, for the whatwha was scared. The fiiwha, defeated, curled up and became stonwha. The fiiwha, now stonwha, submitted to the mystical force, inside of the whatwha, the Fiiwha sunk inside of the whatwha. For thousands of years, this cycle continued, that is until the whatwha was too weak to defeat the fiiwha...





Pua'o closed the book, he would read the next page tomorrow, before the game, for now, he shared the story with the team, hoping to increase their knowledge of the legends of Taparuamotu.

[Kiryu-shi]

from a scrap of paper found in a trash can outside of a small convenience store in Sakaino, Kiryu-shi

pain, immediate and constant, there is nothing but pain that starts from that first whistle and the beat of feet against me but that is existence, nothing but pain

picture this me a small orb mostly white barely bigger than the heads of these people who exist to torment me, kicking me, over and over. this is the first of many to be sure these games with them that call themselves
Kiri
wearing white against those others in that other place north of banrodesia perhaps, loud with the sound of impatience
with the sound of newness
the sound of first times
the genesis of football
in this nation, at least. and for me and my kind - for there are
many of me, interchangeable but always singular, the point of attention but never the focus
there is a balance it seems the Kiri have the upper hand, or foot as they circulate me around with soft blows
the pain is not as severe this way as i am still more often
than not

the stillness doesn’t last long the impatience of the crowd reflects in that of the people
the blue and black shirts coming for me
over and over
spikes flying towards me disrupting rhythms that should have been soothing
instead
constant worrying constant worrying the worry of constantly being barraged by hungry feet belonging to the impatient men urged on by tens of thousands of patriots yelling for my death or at least for me to be battered, destroyed there is such impatience in inception there is such power in that moment or series of moments that determines the what is this dawn of international sport

and yet those Kiri remain stoic diffusing attention, protecting me and i begin to feel affection perhaps for those pitterpattering feet that keep me away from harm and that unbridled
passion
as most of those spikes go flying by me as quick taps and solid strikes send me flying from one set of feet to the other and this begins to be something of a pattern
going from
Kiri to Kiri to Kiri to Kiri
interrupted
only that every once in a while by the graceless abandon of those other feet with those other color

after time passes the monotony of the match of the protection is broken by the increasing presence of the blue and black moving up all of a sudden where there was one or two there are three or four there are so many and they are so forceful and they are striking me more often and i begin to get nervous
rightfully so because it comes

a black foot connected to one of them the one that they seem to call Kellock drives down into me and all i know is pain again nothing but and i am flying like i have never flown before this was my genesis too i was born christened in front of these people who are louder than ever louder than i can imagine but my flight is interrupted not by a person nor grass as i have come to expect but the dull thud of metal as my body is for an instant less sphere and more abstract before i catapult rebounding and safely nesting in hands rather than feet before it comes a throw and i am flying and players are shouting running and the Kiri are swarming up as they kick at me with more urgency perhaps and i find myself a knife carving the pitch cleanly and they use me to hew a path far beyond anywhere i’ve gone before and now the blue and black fall away and there is me and the one whose touches are the most soft but the most sure is pressing and i find myself dancing between her feet as white lines pass below me and hands reach at me but they are not able to touch bursts of movement so clean and so elegant and

it stops the crowd the noise is gone and i am engulfed by a net, a white net, a whistle blows but the atmosphere is changed there is nothing perhaps nothing but the Kiri yell and shout trying to drown out the silence with their own noise

and the match continues

nothing is the same, though, that pounding from earlier never comes as close to threatening as ever before
the crowd
regains some passion maybe but never the same they are never threatening the Kiri no longer have to protect me as i am not in danger there is safety

and now the final whistles blow and it all stops till next time i suppose there is talk that the next time will be much worse that there will be stronger strikes that there will be much more danger there is no safety against that team they call Saugeais who have yet to play but
we have time before that to rest
and recover
from this

this genesis


[edit, ooc notes: I am incorporating dictionary.com’s Word of the Day into my RPs, today’s word is ‘hew’. Also, as should hopefully be evident, this is written from the ball utilized in the matches of Kiryu-shi, and hopefully accurately represents the writing ability of inanimate objects]

[Farfadillis]

First match, first win, best win.

Today, as you probably saw on TV, Farfadillis defeated Antoletia 2 - 0. It was a match played on Antoletia, which makes it even more heroic. The game started well for us, with a 17th minute volley from Numbá almost being saved by Antoletia's goalkeeper, but almost isn't enough, also Tuzzio's cross was fantastic, almost as good as Numbá's volley. Then, Antoletia also tried to score, but Chinsúa was having a perfect match and it was impossible to pass, unless it was through the flanks. But, surprise! Greffe was a "Tactical Mastermind" again, he stopped everything on his flank. And Frêndê had a decent match defensively. Farfadillis created opportunities mainly on counterattacks in which Dandalleion just ran until he got the ball, or our creative duo's playmaking, which today was even better. Statistics were slightly on their favour when we went to halftime.

On the second half, things didn't change much, Wanderis had an outside the box kick which hit the crossbar and Numbá missed a one-on-one, Antoletia also had chances, two free kicks hit the post and one went just over it. They also missed one one-on-one and almost scored on a 56th minute chance which Lisdiren sent to the corner heroically. On the 82nd minute, O'rosso sent a cross from a corner which ended on Chinsúa's head, who rounded up his performance with a goal, setting the score as 2 - 0, nothing interesting happenned after that. Johans entered for Numbá on the 87th minute, but couldn't do much with such a little amount of time.

I, sincerely, would like to congratulate the entire team for today's performance, they've brought joy to an entire nation. They've also brought some hope, just a little bit of hope, on qualifying to the group stages, which would complete the feat.

Manager Fendergéson Numbá speaking with Ander Numbá about yesterday's match.

F. Numbá: Well, what a good game, we managed to play a solid offensive game, with little to no problems on defense, your cousin scored that volley frome Tuzzio's fantastic cross, and Chinsúa could head that O'rosso cross in. And it was at their home.

A. Numbá: Well, yeah, I told you Chinsúa was up for big things, that's why we replaced Saindí after all.

F. Numbá: Yup, and we haven't regretted it yet, he looked solid during the entire game. Also, O'rosso and Tuzzio played fantastically, they never let us down.

A. Numbá: Well, O'rosso never lets us down, Tuzzio hasn't played enough games for us yet. He may have some tricks up his sleeve. Who knows? Also, I think another one who played well was Dandalleion, his constant sprints were the reason why our counter attacks always ended up being potential danger to Antoletia.

F. Numbá: I liked Dandalleion, too. His story is unbelievable, just think about his past as a Swamp Football player, but look at him now....

A. Numbá: Agred, it's incredible. Also, did you see what Antoletia's media said about the match? They said we played horribly, that they ran circles around our defense and should've won, bad losers.

F. Numbá: Pfffft, they can't be serious, we're playing a very offensive play, and yesterday we had a solid defense, nothing else. They can't be that blind...

A. Numbá: Well, it looks like they are....

[Mytannion]

6 months ago

Isaiya Aliev, a 50-something man. He looks pretty normal really, on the face of it. He has dark, short hair, it is clear to see that he is balding. He has a small beard, he often wears trousers and short-sleeved shirt. His job... Is non-existent. He is one of the huge numbers of people in Mytannion that are unemployed, poor and find it nearly impossible to survive. Aliev is a clever man, he studied at Royal Kombarov University, he achieved a first-class degree in engineering. He is like millions of Mytanars who have done extremely well in education, but remain unemployed due to the poor financial situation in the country. This is a situation where there is a large underclass, all poor and all finding it difficult to afford even the most trivial of things, things that would be taken for granted in most other nations.

At the other end of the scale, there is a small ruling class, made up of the royal family and people who were favoured by them in the resulting years after Anatoliy Tolik was murdered and democracy was brought back to Mytannion, along with a royal family that had hugely limited powers. They still had a lot of sway and a lot of money however. They funded people, these people quickly became rich and now, in the present day, they make-up this ruling class, this elite that watch the rest of the Mytanar people scrape by on tiny amounts of money whilst they live happily, in luxury. These people would be considered some of the richest in pretty much any country in the world.

Aliev may have been pretty normal. He may have been only one of the many who lived in the poverty of Mytannion. He was normal, until you began to explore his past. Isaiya Aliev had been 15 when the Tolikists came to power in 1965. He fell in love with their ideals, equality for all, jobs for all, bread for all. It seemed a far cry from the days before, where the majority were poor and the ruling class were rich.

Aliev looked at the society he lived in and saw the similarities of the current situation with the situation he had been born into. They had been exactly the same. Sure, people were freer now. That was indeed a great and admirable thing, but it had perhaps gone even too far. People were allowed to use whatever drugs they could get their hands on now, with out any regulation from the government. Aliev saw the modern Mytannion with people working purely for the newest pair of trainers or to eat food from one of the foreign fast-food chains that had sprung up all over the nation, Fritidien! and the rest. The system had been outgrown by the people, who wanted to consume constantly, it shows the problems of the capitalist system. This system sickened Aliev.

Aliev enjoyed freedom, the freedom that many people enjoyed was too much. It made them lazy, it made the ruling class get richer, even though they did very little actual work. The workers who did work, saw their money fizzle away, spent on keeping them alive, spent on overly expensive food, the prices set by the ruling classes in order for them to become even richer.

Aliev was determined to change this. Only the rich were able to be a part of political parties, he knew that there would have to be another way of changing the system, changing the way things were run. He had connections still, in the SVPO, the Mytanar Secret Service. Even they were discontent, some of them. Isaiya Aliev was well known to many abroad however, and it was this that he would use to work for change. The system was corrupt, no longer worked, social and economic problems were wide and permeated every part of Mytanar society.

Aliev would need people on his side, he knew this would be a fairly easy part of his work for change. Lots of people were discontent, they didn't want to be unemployed, they didn't want to be poor, they didn't like the few rich people in their nation. He could easily rouse the people, he was used to get the young people to convert to the communist cause under the Tolikist regime of years ago. He was one of the important members in the Young Communist Movement, back then. He could easily fulfill the role again, when it was more needed, now.

---

Present Day, Esca, Mytannion

"Look, we're going to draw attention away from the situation here." Isaiya Aliev said, "I have links across Rushmore, and in the Estanian Union too. The Othebians for example, there is a separatist group there.. We don't have to care about the results, but if we give them support, through whatever means, hopefully, that'll keep people distracted."

"What happens when we start blowing stuff up back home Isaiya? You sure that nobody will notice.. Seems there is a pretty high chance of someone seeing us blowing up the House of Representatives even if there is a situation in Othebia." One man said.

Isaiya looked over to Zinovy, one of his oldest comrades. They had been together in the Young Communist Movement all those years ago, they had helped to destroy capitalist propaganda together, had served in the army together and had been together when communism fell for the first time. They had fled the Utilists as they tried to hunt down any remaining Tolikists, who 'opposed freedom', to try and imprison them somewhere. It wouldn't have mattered if they had been imprisoned, Aliev and Nazarov, both of them had been imprisoned in the gulags a couple of times before. As fresh-faced 15 year olds, spreading communist propaganda under the evil monarchy, they had been imprisoned twice. Sent to the gulags, in the freezing wastes of the north. They had been together for a long time, and Isaiya had always kept his promises.. Why was Zinovy questioning him now?

"Zinovy, my old friend, you needn't worry about this.. Trust me, all we want is this thing they call an 'army' these days distracted, we just don't want them to be able to combat our movements. I promise you, we have links in the FSSO, the Eurans, I have contacts.. We will be provided with some of the best weapons there are, we will be able to fight however we are needed to." Isaiya smiled, "Sure, they will notice what we are doing. But by then, they will be in Othebia, a long way away and by this time, we will hopefully have control to fight the capitalists that run our country under the guise of a socialist regime."

Zinovy Nazarov narrowed his eyes, he did trust his friend, but he could see problems all over this plan. He'd go along with it, so far, but Zinovy knew he could do well out of this no matter what outcome there was. If it worked, he would be his friend's right hand man. If it started going badly, he knew what he could do. He could easily tell the authorities what was being planned. They may never believe him but, he would have been the one who warned them. They would remember that. He would make a good living out of being a supergrass, a double agent, whatever you wished to call his role in this. He would agree to continue with the plan, but he would be planning throughout, for when he would leave the plan or try to take a more advanced role.

"Isaiya, this sounds good, it could very well work. But we will have to see if this is the case.. I shall take part in this. It will be a pleasure to be part of the communist movement again." Zinovy smirked.

"Now, the rest of you." Isaiya began, "I need you to oversee the delivery of weapons to Istocna Obala, they are being shipped in from the FSSO, the Eurans have agreed to supply us with guns and a whole load of ammunition. Of course, because of how lax pretty much everything is in Mytannion.. We should be able to get all of this through the port with out any questions being asked." Isaiya paused. "However, if there are questions, I want my men there on the ground and in numbers, to defuse the situation as quickly as is possible."

Isaiya smiled. He knew his planning would work.

[Audioslavia]

Scoop: A World Cup 61 RP

Jeremy watched Rubio amble off towards the general direction of the cafe. He turned towards the building, the head offices of the recently-locked Emberton Post. The goal: To get through security, a barrage of locked doors, retrieve his coat - not his good one, the one in the glass cabinet in the office of his fierce rival, Rami Niblick - but a good coat nonetheless. He knew for certain there was a very expensive hipflask in the coat pocket and, although these days it was only full of ribena, it was a damned nice hipflask.

Hmm. Now how to get past the heavily armed, heavily muscled and heavily frowning security guards. If he knew what firm they worked for he could possibly engineer some kind of mutiny via phone. Hmm. Was it worth finding out? There was probably another way...

Ah. There's another way.

James Ballworth (pronounced Bay-urth to all but Jeremy) had had a few run-ins with the Audioslavian in the past. A couple of years ago, James covered for Cleo Phillips' holiday leave, taking over the editorship of the Post's sport section for two golden weeks that would, for him, become his golden opportunity to prove himself capable of running the division. Jeremy, never a fan of the politicking Ballworth, had made his fortnight a living nightmare, leaving the unfortunate Ballworth a nervous wreck, his repuation significantly less than before his temporary tenure began. Ballworth had gone back to his desk, writing flowery and rather pompous reports on horse-racing, showjumping and polo and thinking twice before entertaining further aspirations of power. Jeremy had gone back to the pub, another victim in the proverbial bag.

James was milling around a few feet away from Jeremy, nervously looking in the general direction of the front doors, as if expecting them to open at any moment, a smiling owner, recovered from his fatal heart-attack, apologising and welcoming the career-journalists back to their offices. Every few seconds, James was putting his hand in his pocket, feeling for a smartphone that wasn't there. Upon realising, over and over, that his phone was still on his desk, James would panic and reach for his phone, repeating the cycle. Jeremy approached.

"I heard they're going to hand out everyone's smartphones" said Jeremy, testing the water. Whether it was true or not didn't matter, if James turned and looked at Jeremy with his eyes wide, ready to accept unquestioningly the ray of faint hope - as he did now - then it meant he'd be willing to believe anything, and that would play straight into Jeremy's hands.
"R.. really? Do you know when?"
"A couple of hours" said Jeremy, witnessing the collapse of James' shoulders and the departure of his hopeful demeanour almost as quickly as it had arrived. "There might be something I can do thought but... but... well..."
"But what?"
"well, y'know, the owners are old money, I simply don't have the connections to pull it off."
"Connections, you say?" asked James
"Yeah" said Jeremy, "old school ties, fathers in the same golf clubs, 'my stepfather once fagged for his second cousin', that kind of thing. I never went to public school, y'see. That'd be an advantage at times like this."
"I did!" said James, excitedly, "I went to public school!"
"No, really" exclaimed Jeremy, mustering a look of utter shock - it was the single most difficult piece of acting he'd ever had to do. James's look, from his striped ties to his rosy-red cheeks and foppish hair, communicated that he was an ex public-schoolboy more effectively than if he'd said "tally ho chummies" while listening to Elgar while wearing cricket whites in a 14th century bording school dining hall during a rowing club's post-regatta dinner.
"Why yes, old chap, I went to Saint Smithensweights, seven years, boarder, used to smuggle vin rouge into the dorms via my jodpurs while 'teach' was ogling the sixth-formers' shapely buttocks."
"Funny you should say that, actually. See the gentleman by the door? He's a Smithensweight oldboy himself."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Underneath that stab-proof vest I saw he has the old striped Smithensweight tie. The classic colours of.... y'know. The classic Smithensweight colours.... of..." Jeremy was desperate for James to but in at this point.
"Gold and cyan!"
"Gold and cyan. Right. He has a gold and cyan tie on underneath, you can almost see it in the reflection of his third platinum tooth, which I believe has the Smithensweight coat of arms embroided into the false enamel.
"Well, rather, but... I say... he doesnt look like an old-boy..." said James, with a look of concern that Jeremy would have to wipe away. The man did have a point. It was difficult to see where exactly a six foot-three, three hundred pound skinhead with a beer belly, knock-off sunglasses, one more facial tattoos than facial scars and a Krytenian football club tattoo on his left tricep would have fitted in among the moneyed elite in the halls of a private school. From the looks of him he'd barely be classy enough to be hunched over an ashtray in front of the greyhound racing in an inner-city bookies.
"Apparently he fagged for the head prefect" said Jeremy. A total shot in the dark.
"No!" said James, his doubts leaving him immediately. "But that's such an honour."
"Yup. So I've heard. He's too modest to talk about it, though. You should go up and ask him. Maybe you two can hit it off, start chatting about the old school song and the rugger team trouncing allcomers."
"Ah yes, rugger. He does look like a hooker."
"Tell him that, too"
"You know" said James, fixing his tie and smartening up his jacket, "I think I will".

Jeremy followed behind the poor James Ballworth as he made his oblivious way up the steps to his certain doom. As much as he'd have loved to stay for the fireworks, he had work to do. He got his phone out and started sending a text. Rubio the recipient.

"Collateral damage so far: James Ballworth". Click. Send.

A raised voice. Angry. A yelp. Two security guards barelled round the corner of the building. More approached from the other side. Jeremy slipped his phone into his pocket and slipped, unseen, round the corner of the building.

He could here the muffled kerfuffle in the background as he scanned the windows on the first two floors. None open. Damn. One on the second floor but, well, he wasn't a young man anymore, and these days the risks of scaling any height over ten feet outweighed the possible benefits. Even the fall from inside a toilet window to the cheap lino beneath could fracture an ankle. Jeremy slipped round to the side doors. Padlocked. Nevermind. Looking down at his own ankle, he reached down, rolled down a sock and removed a small, soft case from his sock, opening it to reveal a miniature lockpicking kit. Always prepared. A quick glance left and right revealed no threats, a quick glance down revealed an industrial strength padlock fixing a chain that looked like it could comfortably hold the weight of the entire building let alone withstand a hearty attack with a crowbar. Jeremy took the lock and his picks in his hand, insierted one, then another, jiggled them in a way he could no longer explain to a casual observer - some skills, like flamenco guitar and touch-typing, were only attainable through practice, and any attempt to teach the skills would be met with confusion by both parties, neither entirely sure of what their fingers are doing or how to slow down the process enough for observation.

The lock pinged open. Jeremy carefully undid the chain, passing it through where it affixed to the door and placing it on the ground as quietly as possible. Now for the door's lock. The picks again. Two seconds. A faint, jangling crunch. One lock down. Another lock. Another two seconds. Gone. The door creaked open.

Suddenly, a crash.

Jeremy looked round to his right to see a surprised looking James Ballworth spin gracefully into a tree. The burly, platinum-toothed security guard, apparently annoyed at being referred to as a 'hooker', strolled towards stricken Ballworth, draped hazily from a branch.
"How dare you call me a hooker you posh twonk" came a gruff, guttural south Emberton accent. "I was a flanker"
"Sounds almost right" thought Jeremy, as he slipped, unseen, through the double doors.

A flight of stairs. A small cloakroom. A long, swooping mackintosh - Jeremy's. The Audioslavian flicked it from its peg and swung it round his shoulders with a flourish, pausing to adjust his hat and place a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it with a click of his left thumb on a lighter permanently attached to the inside lapel of the coat. He checked his watch. Forty-four minutes until he was due to meet Rubio in the cafe, ten minutes away up the street. Assuming he'd need ten minutes to make good his escape without risking being caught and having his jaw dismantled by a neanderthal. That gave him a good twenty minutes for a bit of good old investigative journalism.

First stop, his own desk, and a smattering of important-looking bits of paper, not to mention half a packet of digestive biscuits, smuggled into his coat pocket. Over the other side of the desk he retrieved Rubio's laptop, slipped it inside the case dangling from the back of the chair. Hmm. What about Rubio's computer? Would Rubio have anything he needed saving from it? Can't very well take that too. He didn't have time to turn the computer on, find a zip drive and download the contents. How about just taking the hard-drive out?

A quick foray into the caretaker's cupboard revealed a couple of small-ish phillips screwdrivers, as well as a pornographic calender that, from the six seconds of attention Jeremy gave to it, told him that March's girl was much more desirable than February's. Jeremy made his way back to his desk. He jimmied open Rubio's computer and, carefully, released the hard-drive from its holder, slipping it into a spare pocket in his mac. He'd have done the same with the hard-drive of his own computer but, save for a few high-scores on minesweeper and some specialist pornography he wouldn't be able to find until he next visited Karditan, there was nothing he needed from it.

Jeremy stood up and looked around. There were footsteps but... not anywhere close. Sounded like someone going down the stairs, from the floor above, past his floor, to the floor below. Nevertheless, he'd need to remain vigilant. He scanned the room looking for the best exit. Probably that same stairwell. The elevators appeared to be out of action. That wasn't a good sign. He wasn't stupid enough to attempt to use one for his escape, but the sound of an elevator moving to his floor would be an unmistakable and early sign for him to get out of plain sight, and would free up the staircase for an easier escape. He jiggled the screwdrivers and two lockpicks in one hand. Hmm. What else could he accomplish with these? James Ballworth's computer? No. Nothing valuable on there. Nevertheless, he scooted over to his desk and picked up the unfortunate hack's smartphone, popping it into his pocket. Wait a minute. There was a message. Best read it.

"Hi, Jamie, chummy, Tarquin here. I'm just at your place of employment, actually. My security firm are going to lock it down for a while, but give me a shout if you need to get in quietly. Anything for an old boy. Ta-ta. Blake."

"Well I'll be damned" thought Jeremy. "'Blake' must have been on the other side of the building. Tough break..."

Jeremy rounded a few desks, heading for the stairwell and the exit beyond. He paused at the top of the stairs. Downwards was a likely escape. Upstairs... the offices of the management, including that of the owner. Was anyone up there? Perhaps the young owner was up there himself.

Murdo MacSwell. MacSwell junior, new owner of the Emberton Post, a struggling newspaper that the young entrepreneur shut down immediately after inheriting it. Jeremy hadn't met the young man before. He figured the chap to be almost certainly the sort of person he'd hate on sight, but people with money and power are worth keeping on the good side of. Jeremy hoped he wasn't up there as he found his feet scaling the stairs to the management's floor.

The floor was, seemingly, empty. As were a good three of Jeremy's pockets in his mackintosh. How many hard-drives could fit in those? The manager's, certainly. Accounts? Possibly, though Jeremy was sure he wouldn't be able to make head nor tail of the numbers therein. A bribeable accountant with one of those metaphorical fine-toothed combs would be needed if Jeremy wanted to find out exactly how much money the Post had been losing all these years, and what, if anything, MacSwell senior had stood to gain from shutting the paper down, or stood to lose from keeping it running.

Ten minutes and several turns of the screwdriver later, the hard-drives of head accountant and manager alike were snuggled safely in Jeremy's pocket, as was a bag of skittles badly hidden by a staffer. He considered breaking into another computer, possibly that of the manager's PA. The owner's computer was off-site in a huge out-of-town mansion laughingly called the 'Northern Office'. There was nothing officey about it. It was simply a way for the owners to call themselves 'at work' without actually being there.

Jeremy was stopped in his tracks. More footsteps. A torch. Jeremy slipped silently into the corner office, usually habituated by the head of sales, and hid himself behind a closed blind, one eye trained on the tinted windows facing onto the stairwell entrace.

A tall, dark figure emerged from the stairs, a torch - completely redundant in the middle of the Krytenian daytime - shining over the office.

"Hello?" came a voice. "Is there anyone there"
Jeremy didn't answer. He noted, however, that the voice was rather posher than he'd expected. Could this be the elusive 'Blake' that so failed to save James Ballworth's bacon?
"I see you opened the side-door without us noticing. Broke a twenty-dollar lock in the process. Very impressive" Blake continued, slowly moving around the office, looking under desks and into doors. "Are you going to make this easy for me or are you going to waste my time? I'm going to find you eventually, sir, whomever you are.."
Jeremy sunk deeper into the office, slowly moving a curtain round him. He tried to think of possible ways to get Blake out of the top floor, but the only idea that came to him was to blow him out of the airlock, and that was a non-starter. Publishers rarely had airlocks, and even if they did, it would take far too long to suck all the air out of the surrounding area

Jeremy's phone rang. A torch shone in his direction.
"FUCK" exclaimed Jeremy, falling over in panic. The door to the office opened. Blake stepped in, narrowing his eyes at Jeremy.
"Well, looks like I over-estimated you. Leaving your phone on during a break-and-enter. Rookie mistake. Jeremy felt faintly embarassed, but decided that, if he was to get out of this particular situation, he'd need to think fast and, above all else, have a fierce, confident exterior.
"Do you mind?" asked Jeremy, accepting the call on his mobile without first looking at the number, "I'm on the phone".
"Hello, is that Jeremy Jaffacake?" came the voice.
"Indeed it is" said Jeremy, as matter-of-factly as he could muster. Blake folded his arms.
"Good, I was hoping you could do me a favour, Mr. Jaffacake. My name is Jeff, I work for the council here in Cathair and,,,"
"Oh really?" said Jeremy, "You know, I was hoping you would call, do go on, take as much time as you like..."
"Well, It's just that, we have a young female reporter who we'd like to, erm, get experience out in the field, and we were thinking possibly that you could mentor her, she could work for the Emberton Post with you, maybe. If you could engineer that then... that would be very, very good and.. erm.."
"It's a deal, tell me more about this generous offer" said Jeremy, buying more time. He was barely registering what the man on the phone was saying. Blake took a step towards Jeremy and nodded towards a nearby open window, menacingly. Jeremy hung up.
"That was for you" he said. Blake stopped.
"Don't be stupid" said Blake.
"He mentioned a 'Blake' specifically" said Jeremy, hoping to god that he'd guessed correctly. Blake's eyes opened wide. Bingo.
"What? How did... who was that?"
"Didn't say. Mentioned something about gold and cyan and something about a mason, and something about me and something about not killing me. I was a bit scared you were going to kill me, you see, so I didn't..."
"Oh"
Blake took a step back. Jeremy raised an eyebrow.
"I have places to be, you know. I have a coffee appointment in... ten minutes. Can I go now?" said Jeremy, trying to disguise the hope in his voice.
Blake pursed his lips.
"Go on. Go. Now. And don't you dare come back."

---

A few thousand miles away, Jeff was sending an excited text to Sue Dysos, the lady who had so effectively blackmailed him just half an hour ago. He'd had three days to get her some kind of paying job as a writer, and he'd succeeded needing inly 1/152nd of that time. He sent Jeremy a text after, thanking im and giving him details of the flight times he was planning for Sue's trip to Krytenia.

---

Jeremy walked past the tree where the semi-concussed James Ballworth still hung, forlornly. He took James' phone out of his pocket and slipped it into James' inside pocket, offering a quick "sorry, man" to the hapless hack. Jeremy checked his own phone and read Jeff's message, frowning at what he'd accidentally gotten himself into.

Rubio was waiting inside the coffee with a strong coffee.
"Got the coat, I see" said Rubio.
"That's not all I got..."

To be Continued

[Camerania]

Norman: Good afternoon, and welcome to our first 'World Cupdate' of World Cup 61, I am Barry Norman, and with me is my new co-host, Katrina Solensky, welcome Katrina.

Solensky: Thanks Barry it's great to be here doing the post-match report alongside Camerania's greatest name in sports.

Norman; You're really too kind. Today we go to out first match of World Cup 6 Qualifying. Today the Fightin' Commies faced 81st ranked Sarrbia. It was a heated match, With Camerania staving off three shots on goal, before scoring in the twenty-first minute of the match. That goal was followed by another by Camerania, in the fourty-second minute, finishing off the second half at two to zero in our favor. Katrina, the second half ceratinly was a bttle, wasn't it?

Solensky: Indeed it was, Barry. Sarrbia scored twice early on in the second half, in the fifty-fifth and sixty-first munites of the match. The rest of the second half was a stalemate, however, until in the eighty-sixth minute, Sarrbia pulled off the goal necessary to win it, but boy was it an intense match.

Norman: I sure agree, Katrina. While we couldn't quite win it, it still looks good for us this year. Until next time, I'm Barry Norman,

Solensky: And I'm Katrina Solensky, keeping you posted.

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

"I say, chaps, a splendid day's outing, wot?"

"Quite, Gervaise; six of the best against Johnny Foreigner. Rah!"

"I must say, Tarquin, one did rather feel for the little blighters at the end of that manly display of amateur footballing virtue, wot?"

"Rather!"

"And one's so pleased for Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich- grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwustle-gerspurten-mitz- weimache-luber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shönedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of New Nicea - a hattrick!"

"Yes, well, Gervaise, when I saw the first goal by Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich- grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwustle-gerspurten-mitz- weimache-luber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shönedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of New Nicea, I knew we were in for a rather easy afternoon's play."

"Though one must point out, Nigelo, that the second goal by Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich- grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwustle-gerspurten-mitz- weimache-luber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shönedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of New Nicea was rather splendid too."

"I quite agree, Oliver, though not a patch - I'm sure you'll agree - on the third goal by Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich- grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwustle-gerspurten-mitz- weimache-luber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shönedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of New Nicea, which was also just the sort of goal that we'd expect a fine chap like Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich- grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwustle-gerspurten-mitz- weimache-luber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shönedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of New Nicea to score."

"Yes, there's no doubt about it, Jethro... that Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich- grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwustle-gerspurten-mitz- weimache-luber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shönedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of New Nicea is quite the player."

"So, fancy some roast peasant tonight, then chaps?"

"Rather; but Juan says we should get out of the habit."

"Out of the habit of eating roast peasant? But what's a chap to do? Down a few G&Ts without some fine peasant breast."

"Well, Vivian, it seems that the other participating nations don't eat their peasants; some of them, in fact, protect their peasants from being hunted down, shot, and eaten by their chaps."

"These Ordinary Reality nations are barbarians! Barbarians, I tell you!"

"Perhaps, but Juan rather seems to think we should stay in their good books until we really show them what's what, wot?"

"What?"

"Yes, what's what, wot."

"Ah! Wot wot!"

[Passo Tonale]

Tonale Today

World Cup debut shows promising signs

Passo Tonale provided no upset this evening as they were, albeit toughly, dispatched 2-0 by a well organized Romili side intent on making sure they side did not get there first World Cup cycle off to a fairytale start.

The first half was a very cagey affair, the Tonalean midfield monopolizing their greater possession to provide wingers Trevisani and Palermo with plenty of quality service, but their end product was poor not just in the first half, but was during the entire game, leaving Lo Duca looking almost stranded at times up front on his own. Despite the stranglehold on possession, the deadlock was broken just after the half an hour mark after Romili's star striker Cerit Suhuio latched onto a beautiful lobbed ball by Juk Jucio, and finished it emphatically into the top left hand corner leaving the stricken Passo Tonalean players heartbroken.

The Romili players were visibly buoyed for the second half due to having taken the lead and came out into the second half all guns blazing, looking to take full advantage of a reeling Tonalean team. It didn't take them long to put the ball into the back of the net again, as Roberto Baresi got his angles all wrong when lunging in for a challenge on Cerit Suhuio 15 yards out, and a penalty was given. Despite the best efforts of Pagnotto in the Tonalean goal, with a pretty exuberant dance on the goal line in an attempt to put Suhuio off his penalty, the striker calmly slotted the chance into the bottom right hand corner to all but bury Passo Tonalean hopes to grab anything from their competitive debut. Lo Duca was kept out expertly in the dying minutes, but save that chance Passo Tonale didn't offer much resistance after the penatly in the second half, seemingly condemning themselves to defeat.

Camerania, ranked 106th in the world, will have the 'honour' of being the first team to visit the Passo Del Tonale National Stadium in Vasuchi for competitive international football. It will likely be an unchanged side to face Camerania, with the young but talented side currently being deployed likely to be used throughout the qualification stages, to give them invaluable experience for later tournaments. It remains to be seen whether or not our young squad will be able to hold their own in the big bad world of international football, but we will get a much better idea after the first few matches after this cycle.

[Khytenna]

Island 6 news

Disapointing start to opening game

Falconwhereveryouare: 2

Jarrel 61st
Marrero 63rd

Khytenna: 0


Khytenna played well for most of the game, but in the end defensive errors resulted in a lose for for what should of been a win for the away team, the boys in black will only have themselves to blame as they slump to a 2 nil defeat.

a small following of away fan's followed the team to the stadium, they where big in song and noise, there cheer was heard amongst the screaming home support, it most of pushed them to give a fantastic first half performance.

Firestone lead the assault on the Falcon defence, being a pain to mark and a constant threat to the keeper. the Falcon defence read his game well though, catching him on the offside trap a few times, also the keeper kept his eye on him, shouting at the defence to make sure he was marked, watched, however the in the 16th minute, the offside trap failed, Firestone was left in the box with the keeper, the defence scrambled, Firestone took the early shot, fingertip save by the keep saw a great shot go begging, Firestone put his hands on his hip and shock his head, denied by a great save.

Pellet was soon to get into the action in the corner that followed, heading home a fantastic corner kick by Evelyn, it was straight at the keeper who reacted fast to put it over for another keeper, Khytenna was gaining momentum fast, confidence was building with the attack, but through out the first half, Khytenna couldn't capitalise on their attack, and so it ended 0-0.

the falcons had a fire under their bellys in the second half, pushing hard on the khytennans making up for being in the back foot for most of the 1st half, but Testerman ran his defence well, and tried to stop Jarrel making a break, however, this was all for nothing when a defence error saw Jarrel get the opening goal of the game, he was left total unmarked on the edge of the box, it was Brockburg's responsibility, he slipped in for a through ball Brockburg, darted back to cover him, but it was too late, a low powerful shot saw Jarrel get the opening goal of the game.

Khytenna was all over the place, after that goal, The Falcons went back on the attack, Khytenna didn't recover in time, and in 2 minutes, They got their second thanks to a run in box by Marrero, he coolie chipped the keeper for the second of the game, and shortly the winner, Khytenna tried in vain to get back in the game, but the final whistle went, 2-0 and Khytenna was left kicking themselves.

Coach Gianino said after the game, "that was a painful lose, the defence was scattered and all over the place when it needed to be tighter, in the end we where outplayed, how we didn't get a goal in the first half is beyond me! Very disappointed, but we have to take it on the chin, and move on."

Next game will prove to be a tough one for Khytenna, when to play world number one the Holy Empire, Khytenna will play an unchanged side.


GK 1. Roary Troy (31 Blue Bay)

RB 15 Oliver Testerman ( 27 Dunboor FC , Cafundeu) (capt)
DC 23. Brian Bowman (25 Blue bay)
DC 18.Tao Xin ( 22, Persepi Sharks)
DC 17. Nelson Bohannan(30 Alterdamm Merchants, Gray harbour)
LB 2. Jonah Brockberg( 24, Drakes City )

RM 21. Noel Falcon (23, Keltyme Foresters)
CM 4. John Carmichael (22 Central FC)
LM 7. Trever Evelyn (22 Blue Bay)

FW 9. Fergal Firestone (25 blue bay)
FW 10. Lini Pellett (21 Atlético Jutense, Cafundeu)

[Mesoland]

MBC Sports News
Coverage of the LXI World Cup in Valanora

MESOLAND PRODUCE STUNNING DISPLAY TO HOLD JERU FC TO A DRAW

Mesoland produced an exceptional defensive display as they (just) held the number 6 ranked Jeru FC to a goalless draw in front of a crowd of almost 20,000 Meso fans.

The game started well for Mesoland as Vava hit the post in the ninth minute with a powerful strike and was then denied by Reece Weathers a few minutes later, however these were the only two shots Mesoland got away in the first half as Jeru FC retaliated, showing their effeminate skill and prowess on the ball as Hayley Wills was denied a goal thanks to a superb diving save from Akazambaa. Mesoland's defence struggled to cope as the Jeru FC ladies hit shot after shot in the direction of Akazambaa, who made an astonishing fourteen saves that half. Centre Back Beni Arfa went off with an injury in the fortieth minute after Carla Kunk committed a dangerous sliding tackle on him, earning her a yellow card. He was replaced by Neil Tofa who had a decent game.

Something must have been said to the Meso squad at half-time because after the break they shot out with fire in their bellies and the willingness and readiness to have a crack at the (mainly) female Jeru FC team. Vava and Nukaba ravaged the Jeru defence for the first fifteen minutes of the second half, both getting away four shots each, two on target from Vava and one from Nukaba, however world-class keeper Weathers managed to stop each and every one of those three. There was a lapse in attacking play between the 60th and 85th minutes, with the Meso winger Karaji Karaji earning a yellow card for a foul on Tregan Sallad and eventually being subbed off for Zuraya Bahazio. Jeru FC resumed their attacks in the last five minutes, with another lapse being seen in the three minutes of injury time.

The Jeru FC side looked positively stunned as they left the pitch after 93 minutes of play, more at the fact that they had been unable to get a shot past the solid Akazambaa than at the draw. Mesoland's first World Cup campaign had got off to a far better than anticipated start with the 0-0 draw against the 6th ranked team and look to overcome The Islands of Qutar in their next match. The Mesoland goalkeeper, Ziza Akazambaa earned the man of the match accolade thanks to his sensational performance in keeping his goal empty.

All World Cup and BoF news and results can be found on the MBC website, http://www.mesolandbc.mz, under the sports section. Article by Hugh Biakalwe.

[Leorudo]

"Welcome to Leorudo Olyimpic Stadium!"...
a cold yet happy ticket-collector shouted into his megaphone. I was snowing today on top of the mountain, and even though it was the middle of summer, no one could predict the mountain-topped city's weather. The collector was welcoming a crowd that had been camping out since last night. Leorudo was to open her first match at her new stadium, and they had quite possibally their toughest competition they had faced since Vilitia. The atmosphere was the first of it's kind. The brand new stadium's gate were about to open, and people were more than ready to take their seats, getting snowflakes covering their faces while enjoying some complementary hot-chocolate and watching the game. Meanwhile, on the field, Scena Tartarus was practicing stopping shots from Luke Moore, which was quite a show in itself. Luke would shot it, Scena would stop it, Luke would shoot it faster, Scena's reactions would get faster. This was a very repetitive drill. Even once in a while Luke would shoot it past Scena and they would restart, but in the most part, it was save, rebound, shoot, save, rebound, shoot. Over and over agian. The snow began to slow down, and employees of the stadium where begining to clear up the pitch. The gates had been let open and people had filed in. Concession stands were stocked, everyone seemed like they were having a good time. It was still another couple of hours before kickoff, and the main concern was really everyone getting a look at the brand new stadium. Urban artist's had been granted a portion of the stadium's walkways to work on the walls, and the vibrant colors expressed the local urban culture of the area, a favorite of the fans was the painting that of a young boy wearing a Leorudo jersey who jumped over the wall behind one of the goals to greet the team during a game. The painting next to it is the boy running with his arms spread and the ball in the back of the net. Meanwhile, in the Leorudian locker room, the manager was talking to Rashid Yussu about their shared college playing days, joking about how Rashid missed the shot that would have put them in the finals of some tournement twenty years ago. Atop an ivory tower across the street, a bar was filled with fans placing bets on games going on all over the World.

The night wore on, and day turned to dusk. The seats were almost completely filled. It was offically listed as eighteen minutes before kickoff on the big scoreboard behind the Leorudian net. The sun fell behind the clouds at last, and the stadium lights glowed to life, illuminating the pitch. The fans began cheering, using this as a cue, the sound system began blasting arena rock music, and the crowd did not stop cheering. The sound grew, and quickly, the stadium grew from a warm and welcoming atmosphere to a fanatic, impassable wall of sound atmosphere. The annoucer's were preparing to go on the air, and they had the perfect backdrop.
"Welcome to Leorudo Olyimpic Stadium, and, well, I can hardly get my words out! Just listen to these fans." The cheering had not showed down. Back in the Leorudian Locker Room, Sam Orlandus' pre-game speech was muffled out by the fans in the stadium. The room seemed to vibrate with noice. The rookie manager mouthed out "That is for you." and Carlos Azulis jumped up from his seat and ran towards the entrance. The rest of the Leorudians followed suit. The crowd erupted with even louder cheers. This nation had never had a sporting team to represent them, and never had the fans themselves been able to represent their country. They did not disappoint. The roar did not die down, and when the Qazox team entered the pitch. The noise did not change tone. It did not boo, it did not silent, it just simply ignored the presence of the team that entered the arena. Meanwhile, atop the ivory tower across the street, the noise could be heard faitly through the glass window. The men in the bar were watching the game on television, and they were baffled by the ammount of noise the Leorudian fans were exposing into the night. The crowd was turning in a riot atmosphere, banging on anything that would make noise. The employees were starting to wonder if the stadium could handle this, well, the only ones wondering were the ones who were not involved with it. Down on the pitch, the refferee carried a brand-new football to the middle of the pitch, and he placed it down. The Leorudian players took their positions, and Curtis Osano stepped up to the ball. It was time for a good-ol' game of football.

[Cyborg Holland]

Mary's guide to surviving the World Cup
A lonely girls struggle in a footballers world: Part 3: Our Journey Begins

Well, with my foot in plaster and my brain in swirls due to the heavy painkillers, I couldn't go out and see the sights of Fenbar, if there were any. So it was the hotel for me. In some ways, that was good. With Ellen gone at the crack of dawn with the team, I was able to get up nice and early and enjoy a lovely breakfast by the lake. I ordered bacon and eggs and sat back on my reclining chair and looked across the pristine lake.

However, I was here to talk about football, so I had the assistant coach, James Bruckhem, keeping me updated via Twotter. I ate my food with gusto and paid the small bill and limped back up to my room, much to the amusement of the under-paid hotel staff.

Taking into account my broken foot, I couldn't do any serious exercise. No with crutches. So I decided to watch TV. And something that I'd get very used to over the next month, was that foreign TV was awful. All the adverts advertising random back-yard **** and they all spoke so damn fast and incomprehensibly. The shows were strange, mostly chat or talk shows, with intermittent clips of monkeys falling over and throwing faeces. I was very unamused with the TV, so I had to amuse myself some other way. The grounds of the hotel were lovely and green, but there were too many stone steps around, so it clearly wasn't a wheelchair friendly hotel.

So I went back to the spa and searched for a hot tub. I found one outside with a young couple, from somewhere in Esportiva, I gathered. There I managed to get changed and put on a waterproof slip over my leg and clambered into the hot tub. The water was warm and inviting, and I quickly fell asleep. The painkillers had been doing wonders for my sleep problems, but sometimes it made me drowsy during the middle of the day, which was not going to be helpful when riding an elephant in Astograth, or whatever you do there.

Several hours later, I was thoroughly horrified to find myself with severley wrinkled skin and looking very flustered indeed. The young-couple had gone, and had been replaced by someone familiar. Then it hit me. I looked across at the man sitting opposite.

"Phillip, aren't you supposed to be playing?"

"Yeah, we won. The ground's only 5 minutes down the road. Mark (the coach) is pretty mad with you."

"Why?" I said, becoming nervous

"You were supposed to be there. I don't know where you got the idea that you weren't coming. It's five minutes by bus, and you could sit for the whole game"

"Where is he. You know him, he's gonna kill me"

"Meh, he's in a good mood. We won"

"Okay, I've got supper now, when are you eating"

"We've got team supper at 9:00pm. So you've got" He looked down at his watch "12 minutes"

"****"

*********

I slowly approached the restaurant with apprehension. I was wary and on the lookout for my boss and team coach, Mark de Veer.The 39-year old, nicknamed "Mad Mark". He had been the most vicious defender in the National League, before the ABPD had banned overly vicicious playing. He had little to no hair and a vicious personality.

I sat down at my table for one and once again scanned the room. No-one. Just some foreigners talking in weird TV language. I ordered some pasta, and brought out my laptop and typed this section. My food arrived and I put the laptop away, beleiving it to be safe from Mad Mark. But then. It happened. A tall, bald man. Wearing familiar tracksuits...and drawing a line across his neck...

[Mashiki]

One Game. One Win.

Mashiki made an excellent start to their first ever World Cup campaign with a win against much fancied world number 83 Baltskandio. They recorded a 2-1 victory over their opponents at The LKRC Arena in St Bradley's. The two strikers were most certainly the men of the match, as they both scored a goal in a thrilling game.

As they kicked off Baltskandio started well with a couple of decent attacks as well as a load of pressure with players coming forward from the midfield. But after a mistake from their left winger, Bashka Wimpal-Mateng picked up the ball, and showed off his unbelievable speed, outpacing two Baltskandian defenders before picking out Papovska who drilled the ball into the bottom corner from the edge of the box, leaving their keeper no chance.

As the match went on and was about to hit the half-hour mark, an antelope came running out on to the pitch with its gracious antlers and strides. The crowd was shocked, but then the home fans began to applaud the creature, as it was their national animal. However, the suddenly stopped applauding when they saw it was heading towards one of the opposing players. He suddenly fell to the floor, as the animal hit him head on, and clutched his rib cage in pain, he was stretchered off to a standing ovation, and the Antelope was quickly transported to a veterinary nearby. The match continued.

There wasn't much action until the referee blew on his whistle calling for half time. After the break, a refreshed and better-minded Baltskandian side ran out from the tunnel. 10 minutes into the second half, the Baltskandian defensive midfielder picked up the ball 25 yards out, and unleashed a belter of a strike that left Dimitor Vashalka stood still, they went off to celebrate at the corner filled with renewed hope that they were back in the game.

But 2 minutes later there was disaster for Baltskandio, as Papovska caught the ball on the break and sped towards goal. The Baltskandio centre-back just couldn't keep up with him, and attempted a daring challenge, but it clipped Papovska's foot as he was about to shoot, and he went tumbling to the ground. The calamity of the challenge was enough to see the Baltskandian centre-back back to the changing rooms for an early bath. Papovski stepped up to take the kick and slotted it in the bottom corner, almost identical to his twins goal early in the match.

Mashiki dominated for the last 20 minutes, including a Menz half-volley that hit the bar, but they couldn't find the net again, and so the score at full time was 2-1.

Mashiki 2 - 1 Baltskandio

So here is the fixture list so far :

MD1: Baltskandio (H) 2-1
MD2: Urbis Tractus (A)
MD3: Starblaydia (H)
MD4: Aexalla (A)
MD5: Bye
MD6: Geisenfried (H)
MD7: Ko-oren (A)
MD8: New Montreal States (H)
MD9: The FSSO (A)
-----Mid-Qualifying Break-----
MD10: Baltskandio (A)
MD11: Urbis Tractus (H)
MD12: Starblaydia (A)
MD13: Aexalla (H)
MD14: Bye
MD15: Geisenfried (A)
MD16: Ko-oren (H)
MD17: New Montreal States (A)
MD18: The FSSO (H)

Bold - Next Match
Green - Win
Blue - Draw
Red - Loss

The next match is against Urbis Tractis as you can see, who played in the same Baptism of Fire as Mashiki last year. They are believed to be at around the same level as Mashiki, and it should be a tight match.

[Liventia]

Defiant Lefevre blows top
Neverend, LIVENTIA— New Liventia manager Dennis Lefevre caused a stir today by storming out of his first post-match press conference.

Lefevre, the first full-time manager for the national side since their return to international football, is understood to have taken offence at a repeated line of questioning by a journalist from the Desert Star newspaper.

The unlucky reporter, who was then rounded on by his press cohorts for making them lose a valuable interview, had asked Lefevre six times about his decision to leave 28-year-old captain George Bowler out of his starting lineup, and not bring on the solid centre-half even with the team down 2–0.

Lefevre had said at the start of the press conference that he would not be entertaining any questions along those lines, sparking rumours in the press corps of a falling out between the new manager and the long-term national captain.

Prior to his antics, the manager did answer a number of questions, and praised the contribution of stand-in captain Reece Wilson, who was elevated to the role over his strike partner and long-serving vice-captain Paul Garner.

"I thought Reece played well, he set the goal up very nicely for Mike [Byford] and had an all-round solid game."

In his post-match interview, Wilson was similarly coy over Bowler's exclusion, saying only that it was "a matter between Bowls and the manager to settle".

He also paid tribute to Garner's assistance in helping him get over his nerves.

"Paul's a top lad and he helped me ease into my role as match captain, and I can only thank him for that. Unfortunately today we lost but I'll grow from this experience, as will the team."

Liventia side against Mapletish: Ramsden; Daniel, Radcliffe, Hodge, Davis (Maskell 73'); Coburn, Grant (Byford 73'), Johnson, Baines; Garner, Wilson (capt.)
Liventia goalscorer against Mapletish: Byford 77'
Liventia bookings: Daniel 31', Maskell 80'

[Wight]

.

[Carmadin]

(OOC: I have just learned I will be away from sunday until the saturday after, and as such, the Carmadin Cup will be a tad difficult to do. So, you will have to live with these boring RPs...

---

Kihxaw Jahp stood on the sidelines, biting his nails, and dancing around rapidly, hopping from one foot to the other, as he watched the Audioslavian midfielder, Txordin Velazquez, dribble the ball. What a name, he thought. Even harder to pronounce than some Carmie names. Kihxaw had nothing on that T-x combination. He watched, sighing in relief, as Txordin was stuffed by Xer Xán, who brought the ball up the field, towards the Audioslavian goal.

The game had only just started, and already he was on pins and needles. He looked to his companion, fellow coach, and best friend. No longer in the Carmadin uniform, Dowv Daz sat calmly on the bench, in a blue windbreaker with the Carmadin compass rose on the chest, and the word "Kārmādìn" emblazoned in yellow lettering across his back. It was a very nice windbreaker, Kihxaw thought. Then again, he was wearing the exact same thing, and of course it looked nice on him. He turned his attention back to the game, his momenetary moment of narcissim, and the ensuing moment of redundancy, passing.

Chehri had the ball now, trying to get around onto the wing, but was having a whale of a time of it, as he had to battle against his Audioslavian counterpart, Calaexa Jeroen. Now, that wasn't a hard name at all, he thought, as he glanced at the Audioslavian team sheet he held to confirm that his name was, in fact, Calaexa Jeroen. It was. Apparently, he also played for Inland Peaks of Vilita. He could learn all kinds of things about this guy, just by looking at the team sheet. That was what they were for, after all. He felt slightly stalkerish, so turned his attention back to the game. The Audioslavians had the ball now. He promptly began dancing again.

Dowv Daz looked at his longtime teammate and friend. The two were excellent friends, having played together since Baptism of Fire 44, and ever since then, they had seemed to engage in constant friendly, stupid banter. Just yesterday, in fact, Dowv Daz had shot up in bed, and accidently knocked his wife to the floor when his phone began to ring at maximum volume, at 2:00 in the morning. It had been his goalkeeper friend, reminding him to rest up for the game.
"Dammit Kihxaw, I was resting"
He realized that any sentence he said, or thought, that began with "Dammit Kihxaw", would serve only to bring that omnipresent grin to his friend's face. He saw it now, and had a moment of alarm, thinking his friend could mind-read. However, his smile was directed at the field. Ohlaht Chehsheht had just made a sliding stop on a shot, and sent the ball out to the Audioslavian zone again.

"New kid can play"

"Kihxaw, that's why he'd on the national team. This isn't a U-12 girls team"

"Sometimes, with you around, it seems like it"

"Dammit Kihxaw"

Dowv saw the irrepresible grin on his friend's face, and returned to surveying the game from his seated position on the bench. He watched his boys, in blue, running all over the field. It was nice to be at home for your first game, it meant you could get off on the right foot, get started with strong support. He closed his eyes, and allowed the spirit of the game to overwhel--

Kihxaw jumped on top of Dowv, tackling him off the bench and onto the ground. The ball whizzed overhead, coming close enough for him to read "Wold Cup 60-official match ball" on it. He lifted his head to see Xer Xán's grinning face.

"All right there coach? Sorry about that"

Even when in the middle of a heated match, Xer could find a way to embarass him.

"Whatthehellwasthat?"

"Oh, that? It's called a clear, coach. Weren't you wantching the game?"

"Throw the damn ball in"

As Kihxaw got up, he could hear the laughter of Carmadins and Audioslavians alike. It wasn't every day you got to see two coaches attack each other, though. He scanned the crowd, and saw the omnipresent face of Audioslavian journalist Jeremy Jaffacake, writing something on a notepad. That escapade would be in Audioslavian papers tommorow.

But, it should be in the papers along with "We lost, and the coach attacked his assistant". Kihxaw smoothed out that attractive windbreaker of his, and returned to dancing.

"Do you need a potty break?"

The voice of Dowv Daz came from behind him, and his dances immediately stopped. Another for the papers, he thought.

"No. Now shut up and do tactics or something"

"Wow, this is going to be an interesting campaign"

"Campain i sright, woth you around"

"Come on! Of all the stupid humor in the world, you choose "Campain"? What kind of comedian are you?"

Kihxaw spoke through gritted teeth.

"A coaching kind"

It would have been quite menacing if he hadn't started dancing again.

**

"Thiyp thowjj"

The Audioslavians gave the Carmadin team lots of odd looks as the two lines of players shook hands and exchanged pleasantries as they walked down the center line. The game had ended nil-nil, and both teams recognized the skill of the other. It was slightly dissapointing for Carmadin, as they were ranked about twenty places higher, but a point was a point, and it had been an excellent game for both sides. Kihxaw shook hands with another player, patting him on the back, and greeting him with a
"Thiyp thowjj"
He was returned with a look that said "watch your mouth". He shook his head. "Thiyp thowjj" was a phrase communicating that they had competed excellently, had been a worthy opponent, and earned the teams respect. He reached the end of the line, and brohugged the Audioslavian coach, earning him yet another strange look. Dowv, not to be outdone, happily brohugged the coach as well, evening the standings. The team stood together, and let the crowd cheer a bit. It could be louder, probably would be if they had scored, or won. Ah well. The usual routine was followed as they returned to the locker room:
Go to the tunnel, be swarmed with arms holding things to be signed, sign them, and inevitably wind up with some kids teddy bear, return it, be thanked profusely, light up the little kids face, feel a sense of pride. Kihxaw had long gone through that routine. The next step was usually "go into the locker room, and be chewed out by the coach, lose your feeling of pride". But this time, he was the coach. He smiled slightly. He'd save the chewing out. That feeling felt good. He got over his momentray moment again, grunted "talkt'yall t'morow. G'hom'nd sleep"

He went home, and followed his own instructions, though it was only 3:30.

[Jeruselem]

After Jeruselem's win over Cotdelapoms at Dazza Dallas Stadium

Amy: Hello, this is Amy Pond for Naked News Jeruselem. This is live at Dazza Dallas Stadium. I'm with Jeruselem coach Princess Sofia and player Princess Melody, who's Sofia's daughter if you don't know.
Sofia: Hello everyone
Melody: YEAH !!!
Amy: She says that a lot.

Sofia: Yeah she does.
Amy: Wonder where that comes from
Melody: No idea Pondy
Sofia: Yeah Pondy

Amy: A good win over Cotdelapoms, Sofia.
Sofia: Yes yes, but it could have been better if little me didn't miss that easy shot.
Melody: Hey I was tackled from behind first ya know.
Amy: Some of the young kids showed nerves first up

Sofia: That's normal, they have get used being on a bigger stage. You were the same where had your first game.
Melody: I wasn't nervious.
Amy: What's the real story behind the retirement of Princess Shay? Was she pushed?
Sofia: Nah, she was getting old and all that travel was getting to her.

Amy: So what's she doing now?
Sofia: Babysitting.
Amy: So she's taking care of your little Katy?
Sofia: Yeah

Amy: So, what you think of today's performance.
Sofia: We did better than jeru FC girls.
Melody: Scoreless draw at home, shame shame
Amy: Yes, that was a shock

Sofia: Well done Qazox SIX NIL
Amy: I thought you'd mention that.
Melody: Yeah
Amy: How is your single Look but don't touch going Melody

Melody: Great, but the usual complaints about the song degrading women
Amy: It is about a guy who looks at other women.
Melody: There's lots of guys like that.
Sofia: Pretty of oogling going on.

Amy: Well, this Naked News and oogling is normal.
Sofia: Look but don't touch guys
Melody: Yeah
Amy: That's it from us at Dazza Dallas Stadium

[Western cuba]

Havana Tribute

The #1 Newspaper in Western Cuba

Good Start for Western Cuba in Qualifying

Jorge Ramirez

Western Cuba got off to just the right start they wanted in World Cup qualifying. Markin's boys would bring a 2-0 victory for Western Cuba against Ipeland. The result is a huge victory for Western Cuba. Ipeland is the second highest ranked team in Group Six, ranked 46th in the world. Western Cuba is currently ranked 66th in the world, third in Group Six.

The win brings hope for Western Cuba in world cup qualifying after disappointing runs in the Cup of Harmony and the Copa Rushmori. Not to mention the recent friendly that Western Cuba faced off against Cyborg Holland, who is ranked 67th in the world currently in a 3-2 loss.

One guy really stood out yesterday against Ipeland though, and I bet anyone who did not watch the game or read the paper could not guess it right. That man was Armando Santos, who is Armando you say? Well Armando is our national starting keeper. With Hector Diaz retired, a spot for the starting spot was open on the roster. Armando had stepped in quickly to take over the starting job, many did not know much about him. He sure did cause attention yesterday though, and it was good.

While the defense did play solid, Armando came up big on numerous occasions. Including a huge save in the thirty-second minute off a direct free kick just outside the penalty box. James Gunn, the keeper for Ipeland while having a solid game, could not say the same.

The Western Cuban offense did not explode, however it managed to get the job done for the three points. And that is what matters. Edgardo Mendoza did his part, scoring a goal in the twenty-fifth minute. And another surprise occurred. Guess who scored Western Cuba's second goal, just like Armando Santos, you probably wouldn't know.

Well it was Vincent De Santa, the guy who replaced Cayo Vargas. De Santa would connect on a header off a beautiful corner kick by Goyo Soto to secure the game for Western Cuba in the sixty-eighth minute. However when you think about it, you shouldn't be surprised. De Santa was the captain of the U-18 team and has proved to be a team leader. In a few World Cups, De Santa could find himself leading this team. However with this being his World Cup debut, I say I should stop before I go too far.

It was simply just wonderful watching the team play yesterday. It did not look anything like the Copa Rushmori or the Cup of Harmony. Hopefully Anatoly Markin and the national team have that behind them, and will qualify for the World Cup for the first time.

[Darmen]

Darmen defeats Deadmans by a goal, after dropping friendly to New Montreal States

After Bryan Faulkner turned in an impressive performance in the match against New Montreal States where he scored twice, so fans were disapointed when Faulkner had to leave the match early after twisting his andle in the 12th minute against Deadmans. But that didn't stop Tor Tong Lee from scoring three, while Charmaine Hooper made a suprise appearence in the match, and finished off one of the most important nights of his life with a goal in the 86th minute.

"Hooper has a great game," said Captain Tor Tong Lee. "I'm proud of what he did tonight, he was really impressive, and the winning goal from him was really important." Manager Tim O'Donahaue was also impressed by Hooper, saying, "I couldn't be more proud of the young chap. Well I can't say that he'll be making an appearence in the starting lineup for our next match against Dorian and Sonya, that honor will most likely go to Dan Baker. But Hooper could possibly make an appearence in the matches later on."

Lee's hat trick was one of the only things that kept Darmen in the game, as the back line had trouble early on in the match, allowing the strikers of the Deadmans to sneak through and make Goalkeeper Troy Osborne look bad. "It's the first match of qualifying, so we're going to be a bit rusty," said O'Donahaue, "but I'm not going to tolerate such bad play by the defense against Dorian and Sonya."

Defender Dustin Nguyen didn't feel like talking about what went wrong, but he did comment on what will go right against Dorian and Sonya. "We're going to close down and put pressure on the ball. We can't let them (Dorian and Sonya) get into the box, or they'll slaughter us and Osborne. They'll tear us to shreds."

[Arcadian Islands]

Distributed in seven islands
the winged soul beats
over our islands that are set
for sailing towards esperance

We are history and future
hearts that illuminate the dawn
Fighters in nobility
defend the bright pillar of freedom.

Together as one we dream
the dream of peace on the wide sea
that love and peace will rule forever
over our beloved country
over our beloved soil
over Arcadia

Gareth Sully looked up at the sky as the Arcadian national anthem played. A sky that was familiar yet foreign. A world away from the sugar cane fields of his youth, the familiar sky reminded him of those long days beneath its gaze as he worked the fields with his father and brothers. Days of sweating beneath the hot summer sun under the ever critical eye of his father, avoiding cane snakes and the occasional crocodile. Afternoons of driving in the truck to the local mill, unloading cane as his father had a smoke and a beer with the other leather skinned cane farmers.

His father and brothers had always guided him, moulded him into the man he was proud to be today. The ideas of honest work, determination and never giving up were all instilled in Gareth from a young age. Not that he had shown any of those characteristics recently, which his father had so blunty reminded him of on the eve of the Satinbirds' departure to Wild Isle.

Gareth stewed on his fathers criticisms throughout the Arcadian Air flight to Wild Isle; it hurt more than any of the vitriolic criticism he had read in many of the cheaper rags across the archipelago. The look of his older brother, Mark, had communicated his feelings better than words ever could; don't stuff this up.

Gareth knew this was it; a series of poor performances in the Baptism of Fire meant the pressure on him was rising. Considered the number one striking option when selections were initially made, his failure to score to date had been slightly embarrassing for the twenty six year old. Gareth was determined to change that today.

Match Summary

---

Wild Isle (2) 2 - 2 (1) Arcadian Islands

Ruramoutuawhengakai 22', Moamu 43'

Sully 37', 72'

Yellow Cards

Harau

Jamet, Sinclair

[Yesopalitha]

Sparky's Stance

Rustika 0-1 Yesopalitha @ Crow's Nest Stadium, Rustika

Sparky here, bringing you the latest World Cup 61 Qualifying news for our team, the Yesopalitha Flames. Well, as the squad starts its fourth attempt at qualifying to the final thirty-two, they were beset by the strange schedule: They would first face Rustika, not one of the premier teams of the world, and then have a BYE day before having another warm-up game, followed by their first crack at a very strong Astograth side.

So, in a rather controversial move, Sir James Handel decided to let the Reserve XI start this game against Rustika, saying that his Starting XI could use a bit more rest and a bit more time gelling together. He promised that the Starting XI would start the third game. And so it was that Housen, Yersau, Tern, Peirot, Marquette, Vanasse, Patterson, Park, Kemp, Caheim, and Hellion started together, as a unit: A glimpse of the future of Yesopalithan football.

After the match, I talked to Jacques Kemp, and he stated this: "I couldn't believe it when Sir James said that we were all starting. It was all of our first official cap as a member of the senior side, and oh my goodness was it an honor. Rustika did play us hard, but we won at the end, and it was a great game."

Great it was. The kids really stepped up after the first initial minutes of utter confusion and nerves. The Crows, with the crowd behind them, did grab the first two shots on goal and a corner kick, but Terrance was on key today, blocking all of the advances and calmly waiting for his teammates to awake.

By the thirtieth minute, the defense had really started to tighten up, and the few fans of the Flames supporters who had made the long journey started to see the same type of game that the Starting XI played. Rapid counterattacks that threaten the opposing goal only seconds after the opponent failed to score. The "Lightning Strike" game started to work.

Clarence Patterson connected from a Jacques Kemp cross at the thirty-third minute that was the Flames' first real shot at scoring. To the roar of the home crowd, Tao blocked the kick, punching it away, but the ball went out for a corner.

Kathryn Vanasse curved the ball in, and the six foot, four-inch Patterson out-leaped Flynn and Cairbre, striking the ball into the goal. Instantly, the young striker knelt, bowed his head, and pointed to the "DP" on his uniform, remembering his young cousin who lost the battle against cancer.

Sir James did substitute in three of the senior side in the second half to give them some more playing time, but he didn't play either of the big names: Jane, Hilary, Ivan, Nadya, and Isaac all sat on the bench for the whole match, cheering on their younger teammates.

The score ended with a one-nil victory for the Flames, but with the defense looking exceptionally stout and all the youthful exuberance shown on the field, it was a great day for Yesopalithan football.

Said Hilary Vander Rox, on her fourth cycle with this squad: "It was good to see all the young players play, and play well. Now, if any of us gets hurt for any reason, we can be assured that we have a other team behind us who can fill in if needed. Also, I agree with Sir James about today. Best for us old people to rest up and then get going just in time to test ourselves against Astograth."

The team will be traveling back to The Sacred Heart for their BYE.

It's been Sparky. See you next time.

Starters for this match: Housen, Yersau, Tern, Peirot, Marquette, Vanasse, Patterson, Park, Kemp, Caheim, Hellion
Subs: At half: Yersau out, Galvin in
54th minute: Tern out, Von Helz in
Goalscorer: Clarence Patterson '34 (Kathryn Vanasse assist)

---

Maharamba in Wight

Perhaps it was that Maharamba the demon-child assassin should've felt guilty about what he had done to all the people in his past and his present, and perhaps his future; but the poor creature (or maybe not poor at all) didn't know how to feel sorry. He had never apologized in his life for doing any action, big or small, no matter how much he'd hurt anybody. To him, he had won, and they had lost, and that was that.

"Now then," stated Maharamba to Búa, King of Uncertain Dimensions, "Why won't you answer my question? Are you so all-powerful that the minions of Wight allow you to do whatever you want, including the purchase or acquiring this tremendous amount of land? It makes me wonder how your subjects are so loyal to you, O King, to let you spend money as lavishly as that. Forgive me if I sound too rash, or don't, that is of no consequence, but I would have you tell me why you have bought this land, and caused this change where the dead can live on the land of the living once more."

Young he may be, and unruly too, but one thing Maharamba was not was stupid. He was cunning, cruel, and he had no regard for anybody else but himself. Sticking this question to the King, and getting an answer out of him, would be quite pleasurable.

In order to get his answer, the demon-child pounced on the King of Uncertain Dimensions, determined to not let go until his curiosity was sated in the same manner as drinking the blood of a young female who'd mistaken him for a lost child.

[Kinitaria]

KINITARIA'S World Cup flops produced a disappointing start to their qualification campaign with a dismal draw against Backyard Sports - 293rd in the world.

Boss Tofiq Yurovič could only stand by and watch as his charges struggled to muster any chances of note, making for a drab game which never really came to life as a contest.

The squad which was named before the match was one of the strongest available to the Kinitar side, but it became apparent early on that the side lacked much of the flair which had sealed them an admirable third in the qualifying group for the previous World Cup.

Although Kinitaria attempted to take the game to their lowly opponents early on, they were repeatedly frustrated as Vacarestič and Pročazka on the wings saw their tame crosses easily cut out by the Backyard Sports defence.

It was Kinitaria who would dominate the possession and the chances, but these too were squandered. Captain Kovačev drilled an effort straight at the opposing goalkeeper, and then when Luka Sabčot burst free of the chasing defenders, he could only scoop his shot over the bar and into the fans behind the goal.

A packed home defence, obviously having set out their stall to stifle the Kinitar attack and play for a point, largely limited Kinitaria to shots from range. Indeed, the blue-clad front line were queueing up to have an attempt on goal, but the closest they got was when Sabčot's curling effort was pushed behind by the Backyard Sports keeper. The resulting corner predictably came to nothing.

The hosts did manage a flurry forward themselves from time to time, even though they were largely limited to the occasional, ineffective counter-attack, but when they did manage to break through the Kinitar defence, Costin Petran in goal was never troubled.

As the first half wore on, Kinitaria pressed hard against the resolutely unbreaking back line, but just couldn't find a way through. They came close on occasion, Mihalcič forcing the opposing keeper into an acrobatic save more than once, and Sabčot sending a snapshot just past the post, but the breakthrough just wouldn't come.

The first half would be summed up when Kristijan Preda was brought down just outside the penalty area. Stepping up to take the resulting free-kick himself, he could only send it flying into orbit from 20 yards. The match official promptly did everyone a favour by blowing the half-time whistle.

Yurovič promptly stormed off the pitch looking ready to give his players the proverbial hairdryer, and it seemed to work as Kinitaria burst out of the blocks in the second half. Substitute Naoumov saw an effort crash off the post before Sabčot stepped up to deliver a fierce shot which stung the palms of the opposing keeper as it was diverted away for a corner.

The expected attacking flurry failed to materialise. Within ten minutes of the restart, Kinitaria found themselves back in the same pattern, struggling to break down what Yurovič would later describe as a "flat back eight". They went close when Mihalcič's dipping effort looked to have fooled the keeper, but he was back to claw it away desperately.

"It's not good enough. Not for me, for the fans,
for the nation, and I recognise that. I'd expected
a lot better from the side I put out today and
they've failed to deliver. It's all we can do to look
to the next game, which is home to Tryienne, and
I think I speak for everyone in Kinitaria when I
say I'm expecting nothing short of a strong victory.
You can talk of their anti-football tactics but
there's nothing that should have stopped us
getting a win here today. No excuses."
Kinitaria manager Tofiq Yurovič

Tempers started to flare amongst the frustrated Kinitar players, and Luka Sabčot found himself in the book for a petulant kick at a defender who had stolen the ball away from him as he shaped to shoot. Karl Sala was lucky not to join him just a few minutes later for a cynical challenge in the midfield area.

As time wore on and Kinitaria showed no signs of improvement, Yurovič threw on Malpomir for Sykora, a move which meant that Kinitaria were effectively playing with six in attack for the closing fifteen minutes. The move failed to ignite the side, and although Malpomir had a few chances himself, he couldn't create anything and the game dragged on.

With time ticking away and still no change in the circumstances, Kinitaria were restricted once more to long balls down the middle, each and every one of which were cut out by the packed home defence. Yurovič watched helplessly from the sidelines as the game limped along to its turgid conclusion, the referee's whistle bringing welcome relief to everyone in the ground.

BYS 0 - 0 KIN
(39%) Possession (61%)
(4) Shots (26)
(2) On target (9)
(2) Fouls (5)
(0) Corners (7)
(0) Offside (4)
(1) Yellow cards (1)
(0) Red cards (0)

Kinitaria team ratings: Petran 6, Sala 5, Lupei 6, Sykora 5, Spirlea 7, Vacarestič 6, Preda 5, Kovačev 7, Pročazka 5, Mihalcič 4, Sabčot 5.
Substitutes: Naoumov (for Preda 45) 6, Malpomir (for Sykora 74) 6.

---

A blog by Amur Tulkmanov, Mi'ato
Defending Paulo Naoumov

Ah, Paulo Naoumov. Has there ever been a player so vilified by the Kinitar faithful? But - and this opinion's proved unpopular in the past - I like Naoumov. Here's where I explain why. A brief intro for non-Kinitar readers first: Naoumov came through the youth ranks at East Mi'ato, a small club down in the C-league. It was obvious he was always destined to go far, though, they got Chyri in the Cup and East Mi'ato lost 3-2, but Naoumov scored two of the best goals I've ever seen and from that moment, the big clubs were after him. Litora and City had big-money offers waiting in the wings, but apparently Chyri officials got in touch with him right after the game and snapped him up, there and then, eight years ago. Players go mercenary all the time, sure, they sometimes have their heads turned, but the reason he's so detested is that it's Chyri that did it.

Chyri, their proper name is the Chyri Football Union, are the unofficial representatives of the Chyr region, which occupies a large peninsula in the west of Kinitaria. Before revolution hit, there were significant moves towards Chyr's independence and people here resent them for it. Even today, Chyri style themselves as though they were a national team, their badge is a national emblem and they put numbers on the front of their shirts rather than a sponsor, and all of this irks people and authorities here. They used to be content with signing the best players from Chyr and these players were usually quite happy to go there, and everyone just tolerated this, and then they signed Naoumov. Kinitar born and bred, Naoumov was off to Chyri. For a good while, at away matches, he was treated like he'd just pissed on the flag or something. He still is, at some grounds.

Naoumov (left) holds off Cevale as Chyri take on Tirinthea

But he held his head high, he didn't let it get to him and he got on with his football. He gets dog's abuse every single game, being called a traitor and a Judas and all the rest of it, and he's come out of it being one of the best players in the Chyri lineup, one of the main reasons why Chyri have been able to sneak into the top six. He's a quality footballer, and he has proven it. He's scored some decent goals from midfield and there's not an attacker in the league who'd fancy their chances against him. He's a versatile midfield player, exactly the kind of player Mi'ato need right now. What's more, he is an established and expierienced member of the Kinitar national team, and he's doing quite well for himself there. Decent run in WC60 qualifying, amazing in the BoF win, and he was even one of our best players in the horror show against Backyard Sports. Maybe it's time to leave off him a bit, don't you think?

Speaking of the Backyard Sports game, dear god, what does Yurovič think he's doing? He's got one plan, one plan only, lump it up to the attackers and see what happens. Sabčot, for all the hero-worship he gets, isn't tall enough to pick up on those. If you must whack it downfield at every opportunity, get a big, strong attacker, someone who can make their presence felt. How about Pomič at Amzaberg? They're not doing great but he's scored over half their goals and he does what's needed of him. Wasted at a club like Amzaberg but I digress. The midfield is left doing nothing while the strikers chase after a hopeless cause. They're near the bottom of the world rankings and it's all we could do to draw against them. Much better is expected in the next game to make up for it.

Here's the thing - we're playing a flat 4-4-2. Fine at a lower level, but we're playing against top quality international sides. The front two are man-marked and the play just goes over the midfield, whether we're attacking or defending. This leaves a flat back four to deal with any incoming threat, which they find it very hard to do, considering our system of zonal marking. Fortunately we didn't have to deal with that against Backyard Sports, they weren't good enough to pose a significant attacking threat, but teams like Polar Islandstates - the kind of team we'll be meeting in the World Cup if we ever get there - are that good, and this qualification campaign is going to be a marker to see if we can be consistent against some of the top teams in the world. We're only fourth seeds, remember.

Sala put in a good, solid shift and so did Malpomir when he got on, but you can't just throw everyone into attack for the last 15 and hope it saves you. For the next game, how about some good positioning, a bit of man marking, and some patient build-up play instead of just someone having a go whenever they feel like it? They had a certain swagger about them which doesn't fit a team outside the top 10, so it's down to Yurovič now to get them all back down to earth and put in some decent preparation for the next game. Much better expected, hopefully with Malpomir playing from the start.

Oh, and Mi'ato lost. More about that debacle in the next post.

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Popular articles on this blog:
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1. Maja 2-4 Mi'ato: On our way

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[Astograth]

((OOC: None of this is, of course, meant to be taken seriously. I have permission from Audio to sort of use his setting.))

From the Archives of RL Sports

In the deepest, darkest corners of the Internet there lies a website dedicated to simulating the running of whole countries, an "online political simulation game that lets you build and rule your own nation". It is called RLStates; large and varied, it spans numerous on- and off-site forums that go above and beyond the game's scope. One of these, comparatively small but vibrant, is the one dedicated to sports. Its most important event is naturally the association football World Cup - while they prepare for edition 20, why not go over the previous ones?

World Cup 9

England: The FIFA Congress gathered in Tokyo has voted! The results, to see who should follow up the bestest World Cup of all time, are as follows:

Mexico: 52
Argentina: 32

Argentina: NO! NO! Not again! GRRRRRAAAHH! Where's the re-open bids option?

England: Re-open bids?! This isn't the WCC, we're trying to get things done here!

Argentina: But what has Mexico ever done to warrant this? I practically made WC1!

America: Just the past Olympic Games. Which he beat you to as well. And which I won

Soviet Socialist Republics: Don't remind me D:<

Mexico: A glorious day for CONCACAF!! I'll set about organising the qualifiers ASAP! And on the topic of the Olympics... Estadio Azteca will be making its return

Argentina: I hate that stadium.

Haiti: good news for haitia nd cnocnafa!!!! the peopple are in the streetsa nd the kids are playinda nd the wimen are sninging evryon is happpy1 :););)(;)();:)

---

El Salvador:

CONCACAF Final Round Second Leg
El Salvador 0-3 Haiti

Since El Salvador won the first leg, they finish level on points; a play-off in Kingston, Jamaica will decide who goes to the finals.

*phew* I thought you'd count aggregate for a moment there, heh. Say, you've been counting this RP I have going on with Honduras in II right?

Mexico: Um... no. No, I haven't.

El Salvador: WHAT? We started a WAR just for this World Cup!!

Mexico: Yeah. I thought it was silly and unrealistic. Plus it's in II, not the WC thread, so not my business.

Honduras: As if no football match has ever started a major international incident

Haiti:

CONCACAF Final Round Play-off
El Salvador 0-0 Haiti (1-0 AET)

haiti cannot into worldcup :(:(:);))(

America: How did you even... ?

Guatemala: My bad, USA.

---

Brazil: Well done getting out of the group of death England! You'll have to give 110% to meet me in the final though lol
Post censored by the Campaign for the Revitalisation And Betterment of Society (CRABS) in accordance with Sargossan law

Brazil: They can censor my posts now? O.o

Sweden: I got this.

Germany: I wouldn't worry about England, Brazil - no Azerbaijani linesmen this time

Germany:

Quarterfinals
West Germany 2-2 England (3-2 AET)

You see? Though that was too close for comfort...

England: Sigh... call me crazy, but I'm the Homelands our of RL. Always out by the quarterfinals.

Germany: Yes! Homelands our against Valanora, not quite fair

Italy:

Semifinals
Italy 1-1 West Germany (4-3 AET)

If you're Valanora, I'm Starblaydia.

Germany: In your dreams.

Brazil:

WORLD CUP FINAL
Estadio Azteca, México D.F.
Brazil 4 - 1 Italy

RAWRCRUSH

[Unified Falcon]

Newson's Files - After MD1

I have had many people ask me, "How is it being a Manager of a team that is divided into two nations?" Um, I am not quite sure if I could describe the experience. Falconfar and Falconear may have joined sides to become one football team as Unified Falcon, and the two leaders may be sisters, but the two sides could not be more different.

The charges from Falconfar are very physical. Jacques Didier is the best goalkeeping talent I have ever seen, but he makes a point of punishing any defender that tries to score on him up close. The defenders, especially Sharon Tundai, are practically bullies, playing on the edge of earning a yellow card tackle to tackle. It is a lot of fun to watch, due to the intensity that they show out there on the field.

Falconearans, on the other hand, are more of tactical, pure speed players. They can do things with the ball that most Falconfarians can't even dream of. They have such crisp passing and then unbelievable shots, but they have a problem dealing with things in the clutch. Also, their moves are pretty much predictable to a point, making it easier to defend against them.

Johannes Barr of the Paladins in Vititi was the man who had the first shot in building this team of two nations. He didn't carry the team very far, and after a disappointing result for Falconfar in the last Copa Rushmori, they thrust me into this job. I knew it wouldn't be a cakewalk, but it's been more challenging than even I thought possible.

It doesn't help that the primary language of Falconfar (the humans anyway) is English, while the Falconearans prefer Welsh. The official language during practice is English, but the accent makes communication difficult, and Falconfarian players love making fun of the Falconearans of their linguistic difficulties.

There are a few players who have actually tried to help me - Damon Hawk of Falconear and Thaddeus Lewis of Falconfar in particular - but the bad blood between the sides is quite remarkable.

Not that the first game of the campaign did us any good. It was Falconear's Damon Hawk who drilled a shot into the back of the net to give us an early lead against Conservative World, and then Falconfar's Sharon Tundai who turned the ball over in front of the net that led to the conceding of the equalizer, ending in a 1-1 draw that should've been three easy points for us.

Afterwards, Falconearans were saying that if it wasn't for Falconfarians, we would have three points. I tried to calm them down, and Damon himself told the guys to chill, but tempers were really rising. I am going to have to come up with something or there might be blood at the end of losses.

Really, what were the leaders thinking when they had these two sides play against each other in an exhibition game at the beginning of this season of domestic football? I know it helped me pick who should be on the first string and who should be the reserves, but these two sides are like fire and water; instead of trying to run a steam-powered machine, they are just too busy trying to beat the other one up.

It is exasperating, but it is my job to try to get them to work together. So try I shall....

Ugh, eh?

[Capivara Group]

CRONIQUIA DU FUZIBOL
Chronicling the Capivara Group odyssey towards qualifying to the World Cup

CAPIVARA GROUP 1-0 DAYDREAMTOPIA

True to their name, the Daydreamtopia national team looked like they had their minds elsewhere during the match.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JByR6Dpdy0I

The scoreline wasn't larger because our team, as always, entered the field looking like they were drunk out of their asses. And, as always, some of them actually were.

There's not much else to report. I don't even know who the other team's players are. Spare me the trouble.