Recommended listening: Made of Stone - Stone Roses.
Your knuckles whiten on the wheel, the last thing that your hands will feel, your final flight can't be delayed.
Lev Repin knew that this was a team that the Mytanars could beat. He eyeballed each of them in the tunnel, he was only five-foot-eight, but he felt like he was bigger than each of them, even at his age. He felt quicker, stronger and just plain better. It would be a travesty if they couldn't beat them. He had captained this side to success in the Cup of Harmony before now and he had captained them to Copa Rushmori glory, the biggest sporting success the nation had ever seen. Now they had a chance to get to a World Cup semi final, something they wouldn't ever have even dreamed of before coming into this World Cup. And when they got there... Well, they weren't going to worry about that. This was arguably his biggest chance ever, to garner success in the biggest event in world sport. It was also arguably his last chance to do well on the biggest stage of them all, he was getting older now, even if he didn't want to admit it particularly. He didn't want to retire, he wanted to play forever, he loved the sport and he loved playing for FC Ararat and the national side. They were the two things he loved most and he would miss them to an extent that could potentially be unhealthy.
Nowhere, just sky, it's so surreal, your pink fat lips let go a scream, you fry and melt, I love the scene.
The fans were going mental. Repin could hear it before he could see it, the tunnel didn't allow you a sight of the fans going bananas in the stands but he could certainly hear them. He felt like he was Svet Jelic or one of The Aurora, performing in front of thousands at a massive gig. It was a buzz that started deep inside and made your whole body tingle, he felt like a little kid on Christmas morning. The fans were going crazy, he could smell the acrid smoke from the flares that were lighting up one end of the stadium. He had seen the sky coming into the stadium and it was a beautiful yellowy-pink colour, playing under that sky would be worth all the games he had ever played for both FC Ararat and Mytannion, especially if they managed to get the right result at the end of the game. This is what he lived for, the atmosphere, the buzz, the chance to make himself a hero. Mytannion had always been an underdog, the country had always underperformed and as a result had always been underrated when they did have a good crop of players. Now was their chance to end it all. They could reach a stage that would have been unthinkable a few years ago.
Sometimes I fantasise, when the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars, they burn below me, don't these times fill your eyes, when the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars, they burn below me are you all alone, is anybody home?
This is what Repin had dreamed of since he was a little boy. Yeah, there was winning trophies with FC Ararat and the Top League medals he had won would always remain close to his heart purely because of how they had come about. The team had come together at the right time and in the right situation and they had just gone and won it, they had beaten the best, with the help of some solid players and a lot of heart. Dobroslav Stojanovic had been lost and they had taken advantage of it, using the money wisely and recruiting well. But this, this was different. When he was little he had watched the likes of Joep Bang and the rest, all competing at the top level and he had wanted to be there too. He had wanted to be the next Radoslaw Famoc and score all the goals, but he had turned out to be the next Adrian Njulae. It was quite a big change in aspiration, but he wasn't that bothered, he had reached the necessary level and his dream was essentially complete. He had achieved what he had set out to do. Now he had to build on that, he had to go and win it all, it wasn't enough, he wanted more. It might seem a long way off and unachievable, an unreachable dream, they would likely have to beat the all-conquering Polarians, but he wanted it and that seemed like it could be enough to carry him the whole way.
I'm standing warm against the cold, now that the flames have taken hold, at least you left your life in style.
It wasn't just his own personal aspirations that he was playing for though. He was effectively playing for a dead man every time he went on the pitch for Mytannion or FC Ararat, he had been close friends with Ismet van Huijgevoort and he felt like he had to play with him in his heart every time he did play. It had been a hard time for Mytannion as a country, such a young man feeling so shit, so depressed, that he had to end his life. Especially when he was so talented. It was a waste, but he had felt so bad that he had turned to drink and had done drugs and Repin had been one of the few people he had confided in. Repin had been one of the few people who had felt like he had to tell people higher up. He was national team captain, so he told Sadowsky. He regretted doing so now, he felt as if he could have had some hand in his death, some small part of him felt as if he could have caused Ismet to throw it all away. The controversy had come about in the media after the bust up at national team training, but if Repin hadn't said anything then that might not have happened. It was all too late now, so all he could do was play for Ismet, play for the man who had committed suicide and hope that that brought him some retribution.
And for as far as I can see, ten twisted grills grin back at me, bad money dies, I love the scene.
Repin shook his head again and looked back at the Free Republics team that faced him. Eleven men were stood across from him, all but one returned his gaze. The goalkeeper was more focussed on pairing his gloves together. Why they were all focussed on Repin was something he would have liked an answer to, maybe because of the hard stare he had given them all before they had chosen to focus their gaze back on him. Some sort of move of intimidation. It wouldn't work. This is what Repin loved, playing teams that were up for a battle - that's why he had never left FC Ararat after joining them. The people leaving tended to go for some more money, that's why they left, he wouldn't dare do that. He played for the team so that he could enjoy the pride of an intense battle with a strong side, if he left for someone stronger it might all become too easy. When he played for FC Ararat he would always have to give his all against the opposition and always face a tough game, when he played for Mytannion, it was the same. More because he ensured he gave his all, he wanted to win, he wanted more than anything to make his country proud. He didn't believe in all the ethnic groups that made up Mytannion, he didn't believe in all the ethnic tension, all the fighting. He was Mytanar above all and when the country got behind the football team, it was united. All the ethnic battles were forgotten. That was the Mytannion he knew and loved, the fans hugging each other in the stands, brothers in arms behind Mytannion.
Sometimes I fantasise, when the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars, they burn below me, don't these times fill your eyes? When the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars, they burn below me. Are you all alone, is anybody home?
Football united the country. It was something incredible, the passion that people felt for the sport when the national side, the side representing all the ethnic groups that lived in the geographical area known as Mytannion, it was truly incredible. It was something that many other countries never saw around a sport, they were bland, not as rocky in their relationships with one another. Mytanars may even call them boring, but then again, many Mytanars long for a quiet life with their neighbours. Lev Repin certainly did and that's why he wished for a permanent state of football passion backing the team, so that everything else was forgotten. Repin shook it all out of his head though, worrying about back home was the wrong thing to be thinking about. These were the moments that he would remember when he was an old man, when he walked out onto that pitch and saw the flares glowing brightly in the stands and the cold air hit him and he belted out the national anthem not as one man, but with a nation. He wouldn't ever feel alone when he was old when he thought of them moments. Life in a care home wouldn't be as bad, though he never planned to end up in one.
Sometimes I fantasise, when the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars they burn below me, don't these times fill your eyes? When the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars they burn below me...
He looked across at the players at the other side of the tunnel. He wondered if they shared the same dreams as he did, he doubted it, they didn't have a war torn country to go home to. Well, they didn't have to go home, they were playing at home. Repin wondered if that would have any effect on the game. Their fans couldn't be as good as the Mytanars, they couldn't have the same fan culture, it just wouldn't happen. Mytanars were different and just better than just about everybody else when it came to the actions in the stands. They probably shared the same dreams about being successful, but Repin was sure that he wanted it more. He had a hunger that they didn't, he had a hunger that no one else had. That's why his career had had the longevity and success it had. He was by no means the best technical player, though his dead ball ability, passing, tackling and positioning had always been world class. The effort that he put in was what had made him so good for so long. He wanted to be the best and he had arguably made himself one of the best full backs in the world because of it. Could he now help his side onto the same fate, becoming one of the best teams in the world?
...Are you all alone, are you made of stone?
The referee called the players on, to exit the tunnel. Repin looked backwards at his team, lined up, all with hard gazes, all focussed and concentrated at the job at hand. He relaxed a little, they were all ready. He let out a little smile and then turned back, his gaze hardening again. He stepped forwards, out of the tunnel, into the cool night breeze. The sky was still yellowy-pink, the green, white and orange flares were blazing at one end of the stadium. The flags were waving, there was some form of tifo choreography going on, he could see photos of the likes of Radoslaw Famoc, Joep Bang, Robin Hjik, Laze v Tuhinju all painted on massive white sheets and then lots of green and orange question marks. Two large banners, one 'auf deutsche' and one 'v ceske', both proclaimed: 'They have made history. Now it's time for you to make history. Who will it be?'
Repin felt his bones stiffen. He would try to make sure it would be him, one way or another.
