It was a yell of encouragement, not frustration. The players were working hard, muscles pumping, sweat dripping from their foreheads and glistening on their arms. The drill was a tough one, but at this point, he knew they were able to do it. They had better be able to do it. The team was a small one, a newcomer to the stage on which the multiverse played its football. Tremblay was perfectly aware that the RNFT might be eaten alive by the footballing giants it would face during world cup qualifications. There was simply no way to compete with the finances or the talent of nations so large, so established, and so dominant. But despite this Tremblay hadn't given up hope. There were still areas where he could do battle on even ground.
Tremblay had made his name in Reçuecian football by his strategy and tactics, and he still counted on that. Certainly, he hadn't been anonymous when he was a player, but it was as the coach of Associated Savoie that he had come to relative prominence. It had been he who pioneered modern football tactics in Reçueçn, adapting more quickly than his competitors and producing innovations they hadn't foreseen. He had been so far ahead of the pack that even years after he quit coaching, at sixty-nine years old, nice, quiet retirement was not something he would be allowed. He had responded when the RNFT had called him up, and he felt that the teams performance had demonstrated that he still had his touch. He didn't feel outclassed by any football tactician in the multiverse, then.
So if he could hold his own in the mental game--Tremblay's most famous quote was that "Le football, c'est 99% mental, et l'autre 1%, c'est aussi mental"--then all he needed was for his players to hold their own in the physical game. Inborn talent and life-long coaching through a rigorous football academy system were things that Reçueçn couldn't match the other countries in. But what it could match was physical training. Tremblay knew he could have his team fit and physically ready by the time qualifying started if they religiously followed his exercise programs. He could have the most in shape, physically in tune group of sapient beings in the qualifiers if they worked at it. That was his angle. That was the point where Reçueçn could match, then outclass its opposition.
All of this Tremblay had already figured out, and it floated in the back of his head as he yelled encouragement to his squad. They were certainly in better and better shape every day, but they still had work to do, and they were starting to look tired.
Of course, that was part of it. They would have to be ready to deal with exhaustion. That was part and parcel of playing football. But it was not fun to push through heaving lungs, weak legs, and a dry mouth, just to run across the pitch back and forth at top speed in the sun. It made you want to give up and collapse on the ground. It made you want to dive into a bucket of ice water headfirst and just stop. It made thoughts run through your head: How long can this go on? Is he trying to kill us? I can't do this.
They could do it. Tremblay knew they could. And he knew they had to if they wanted to have a chance. So as the team continued its sprints, he paced back and forth, yelling, egging them on. A couple wisps of his unruly gray hair stuck out and floated in the air; more of it was plastered to his head in sweat--he was sweating too. He was still in good shape, but he was seventy now, and it showed if you looked at him. Not in his confident gait, or his straight shoulders, but in his wrinkled hands and his skinny limbs.
They can do this, Tremblay thought. We can do this. I can do this.
He was aware that he needed confidence in himself, that he was asking much of himself. But more importantly, he still had that confidence.
A final whistle blew. "That's it!" The assistant yelled. The players collapsed, hands on their knees. Others leaned back, folding their hands on top of their head, trying to breathe as much fresh air as possible.
"Good work, boys, I knew you could do it. Make sure you all do our normal warm-down jog, get rid of that stress. We've got more fitness training first thing tomorrow morning, with a scrimmage after. I'll see you then."
Upcoming Match
Qasden vs. Reçueçn
World Cup 82 Qualifiers — Matchday 1
Royal Turkish Van Stadium, Turkish Van City, Qasden
Reçueçn line-up: Gerauld Firaut (c), Leo Beck, Ägidius Heissler, Norman Bright, Oliver Spencer, Luc Pélissier, Grégoire Leclair, Maynard Hebron, Hippolyte Lavigne, Franky Adams, Freeman Lebo
