Vignettes.
Avi Renning: The Final Match
Avi Renning: The Final Match
I have to admit, I thought that the red and gold of the Cenian national team's kits looked good on me when we walked through those doors of the Battleground in Raynor City for the final of the last Di Bradini Cup. I have to admit that I felt electricity flow through me when I saw Asher Koromin wearing the same thing - when I thought of how we were about to walk onto that pitch, in front of thousands of people, and play one of the most important games of our young lives united, as one team, as one country.
At the same time, though, I was nervous - and I knew it. My palms started to sweat, and the little droplets irritated my eyes. I noticed that the edges of my hair had become wet, like I had just dipped it into a pool. And the game hadn't even started yet!
I noticed Asher come up behind me. He patted me on the shoulder, holding his arm there. I reciprocated. That felt good. "You'll do fine, Avi," he said. "I know you're worried, but you'll do fine. Trust me." He smiled. "You've been playing well all this time, I don't think it will be otherwise now." I nodded, thanked him, pulled up my socks and tied my boots extra tight. I wanted to be ready.
My hair raised on its ends as the Cenian national anthem played. "Fanfare for the Common Man," it's called. I considered myself a common man, and so I knew it was a fanfare for me. That's why I was so proud to be on that team, representing our country. We clasped each other's shoulders for the traditional pre-match photo; I had never felt more excited, or more nervous, in my life.
We actually led for most of the match. When Iain Cyn-Penzag scored our first goal, I felt pumped. When Asher scored our second goal, I felt even more pumped: I had assisted him! My heart was sprinting along, but it wasn't from nervousness. It was from excitement, it was from pride, that I had touched the ball that went into the goal that gave us a two to one lead against the Unified Sunrise Islands. It could have been the winning goal.
Alas, it wasn't. Those were the only two goals we scored, and Sunrise Islands managed to get a third goal in near the end of the match, and of course, that deflated us. After all, you've never heard of a team that's happy to be losing. When the final whistle blew, our sweat had totally ruined our jerseys, and we felt like collapsing. But only winners get to collapse; the losers have to stand around in shock and disappointment. So we did that.
It was a somber flight home. Even though second place was nominally better than third, I'm sure that most of us would rather won third: we would have ended with a win instead of a loss. A positive final note is better than a sour one for me, even if the final result seems better on paper. For a while, I was stuck in a funk after our loss, in a match I thought we could have won: I played "Take Me Home, Country Roads" over and over on my phone. I was ready to come home. At least my sour mood dissipated eventually: we had fun gossiping on the second half of the flight. What a conversation that was!
As we left the airport in Ceni to go our own separate ways, I had a flash of realization: Asher would be too old to rejoin us in two years. Then I would have to put up with Sahara and Sean and all those characters by myself, without him, so I went up to him and hugged him. Clearly surprised, it took him a few minutes to return it, but he did. "What's this for?" he quietly asked.
"It's a thank you, and a goodbye all in one. Thank you for all that you've done for me, and of course, goodbye is a simple word."
"I'm not a big fan of goodbyes," he replied. "I'm always in favor of until next time. In the small world we live in, there's always a next time." He broke off the hug, smiling, and walked away. "Until next time, Avi!" he yelled. I almost cried, but I held back my tears. I had his phone number; I could text him any time I wanted to.
Sure enough, I did. It gave me a thrill every time he texted me back; he made me feel important. So when I received a text from him a couple of days ago, out of the blue, asking about this Di Bradini Cup, it rekindled our relationship, and made me remember what happened two years ago. I don't want to dwell on the past, but sometimes you need to in order to move on into the future. Of course, I'll never forget the good times we had together, even though it's easier to remember the bad ones.
Over the last couple of days, back in Valanora, I've been thinking about that loss in the final two years ago, thinking about what went wrong and how to fix it. I'm no worrywart, but looking back over my memories, I've only grown more and more sad about what happened last time around. Then I had a flash of hope. Of course, we have a new team now, one that's arguably better than the one we fielded two years ago, so I think we have a chance to go far in this edition.
We were certainly disappointed in our loss in the final, but it's no matter: we know our history, so we aren't condemned to repeat it. I'm sure we'll return even stronger than before, and actually win the whole competition this time.
We'll do it for Asher, and all the people who couldn't come this time around. We'll do it for ourselves. But most of all, we'll do it for our country.
