Copa Rushmori XXXIII - Everything Thread

[Pasarga]

The group stage had gone about as perfectly as anyone in the Wanderers' camp could have hoped for, a perfect nine points from three games, including an impressive only three goals conceded in the entire group stage. It was an impressive display from a side that had come into the tournament reeling and seemingly on the wrong path, in a downwards spiral had even suggested. Even if there had been doubts from the supporters about the capabilities of the squad or what the new standard of the team actually was, they had still come out in full force to support their national team and to watch the best that they region had to offer. It had thus far been a tournament of those who were expected to win had done so, yet the knockouts were now upon the eight teams that had managed to escape the group stage and with several tantalizing matchups to boot. This was going to be the time that the mettle and character of all the squads still standing would truly be tested, to see if the nerves still were as steel in the win or go home scenario that the knockouts provided compared to the somewhat less tense feel of group stage matches.

Saintland was next on the cards for the Wanderers, a team that some would have said had not quite earned their way into this position with how negative they played, with the same whispers being spoken about Taeshan as well, with their matches being some of the lowest rated across the country in terms of viewership and attendance. Pasargans liked either attack or possession football, the completely defensive sides were not seen very fondly in the dual islands and so the numbers quite rightfully and accurately depicted that lack of appreciation from the host audience. As for the Saintland itself, the match seems to pitching an unstoppable force in the guise of their near impenetrable defensive shape against the unstoppable force that has been the Wanderers' offensive prowess in the tournament. The scoring has been lead by the young Alexander Jager, one of many who are said to be looking to redeem themselves after the porous effort that the strike force had during the Qualifying campaign that had ended in such a ruinous way.

The two Alexanders, as the dual islanders have come to call them, have absolutely looked deadly in front of goal and quite hungry for the goals, much the same way Thor was during his prime years. It is a bit of a shame that the talisman striker was not able to at least get the Wanderers' to the Finals in his final stint in the Wanderers' kit, but age slows down for no man or woman, not even if they are something of an icon or hero for the common folk. It is something that Alexander Kárpáty will have to deal with soon himself, as his thirtieth birthday will happen during the next set of Qualifiers for the next World Cup, though there are rumors circulation that the PFA might be looking to bring the grand tournament to the dual islands. This tournament might be both an audition for the players looking to earn their spots in the national team as well as the nation itself, to show the prospective voters in the WCC that the dual islands are capable of being quite gracious and cordial hosts for large groups of people.

For the match itself, I expect the Wanderers to try and exploit the wingplay to get around and past the stern defense that the Saintland team will be looking to rely upon to get them through the day. With such talented wingers such as Berecz and Gere to dictate both the pace and width of the playing, especially when playing at the slightly wider pitch in Stein-los Stadium. Pulling apart their concentrated effort and line will be the key to undoing the expected gridlock in the middle of the park, freeing up that space to allow Mária Vöröss to do her magic in the middle with Szalyk Földessy then able to do his defensive masterwork and link between attack and defense. Shielding the youth with such tactics and allowing their young legs just to run is the edge needed, though Saintland will no doubt be expecting such tactics. However as saw time and time again in the Qualifiers and in prior Copa Rushmori's, just because you know what the opponent will do doesn't mean that you will be able to stop it, and that is what Srđan Jakšić will no doubt be counting on when the two sides come to blows in Stein-los.

[Pasarga]

Quarterfinals
Eura 2–0 Taeshan
Sargossa 3–3(4–4 AET)[5–4 Pks] Nephara
Savojarna 3–5 Schottia
Pasarga 5–1 Saintland

Semifinal Fixtures
Eura v Sargossa @ Kilmonarch, Stein-los
Schottia v Pasarga @ Fire Park, Troubalose

[Schottia]

The Brewers

Part Four.

Dreams

‘…I’m just a humble brewer… I’m just a… just a… humble…’

‘And I’m just bringing you a humble, fresh mint infusion.’ Amanda Brewer née Cunningham stated, as she climbed up through the trapdoor, into the small attic space of the hut she and her life-partner shared. The twin mattress took up most of the floor area, however there was a little free space along the left hand side. Here, Amanda had built a small shelving unit out of a few logs and some wooden planks. She placed the steaming beverage atop a dog-eared volume of Hostillian poetry, and rubbed Gary shoulder, gently bringing him back to reality.

‘I had another one of those dreams.’ He stated profoundly, sitting up, his head grazing the rafter as he did so. Gary reached over and pushed open the skylight, letting the cool, clean air pour in, flushing out the stench of sleep. ‘I’m going to cycle up to the phone box after breakfast and ask Dr Durí what it could mean…’

Before Gary could grab his notepad and pencil Amanda snatched it away and offered the tea as a replacement. ‘Relax’ she insisted. ‘You’ve got the farmers’ market later this morning; you were probably just preoccupied with that. You know how commitments stress you…’

Gary reluctantly accepted the beverage, which was still a little too hot to drink. He was starting to get concerned that he was the only one who took his paranoia seriously. If it were merely a one-off, then he would understand, but this was the latest in a long line of vivid dreams. Last week he had had a dream where he met some homeless gentlemen fishing for beer in a canal. After following his instructions and casting their nets over the other side of the bridge, they hauled in more beer than they could drink in a lifetime. Before that, he’d dreamed that he was at a wedding and had turned water into beer. A couple of nights ago he’d even dreamed that he had been resurrected after being crucified on a giant beer barrel.

‘I just sometimes think – you know – I might be meant for some greater purpose.’ Gary protested, wiping some sleep from the corner of each eye. Living off the grid in their tranquil valley in South Laith, Gary and Amanda rarely had much reason to keep track of the time. They got up with the sun, and went to bed when they were tired, like nature intended. However, today was a rare occasion where timing actually mattered.

‘Are you going to take Madita with you?’ Amanda asked, slipping back into bed beside him, nestling in. ‘You know how much she loves the farmers’ market.’ She was undoubtedly trying to free up her morning for some meditation, or a herbal tea with her cronies across the stream.

‘I don’t know…’ Gary answered, now back in possession of his notepad and scribbling frantically. ‘…she’d need to behave. Malcolm and I don’t really have the time– ’

‘She will!’ Amanda said assertively. ‘She’s a big girl. She can help, and if not, just let her wonder around. We need to start trusting her.’ She gave her life partner an extra squeeze, hoping it would seal the deal.

‘Okay!’ Gary closed the note book and hauled himself out of bed. ‘I’ll tell her to start getting dressed on my way down.’ He began to pull his clothes on.

‘Oh Gary, you’re not really going up to that bloody phone box..?’ Amanda pleaded with him. But as she saw him pull on his bonnet with real resolve, she knew her protests had fallen on deaf ears.

‘I just need to ring this in?’ He answered, holding the notepad aloft for effect. ‘I will not be long.’

Gary lowered himself through the trapdoor, dropping down into the kitchen/living area. Amanda had already got the little wood burning stove going, and a teapot was still sat steaming on the table. He reached inside a hessian sack and pulled himself out a handful of sunflower seeds to give him the energy he required for his cycle. The door to the conservatory was already ajar, and the sound of his rustling seemed to have caused Madita to stir.

‘Dad..?’ Came a faint call from the other room.

‘Good morning.’ Gary said, pushing his way in quietly. There was no way to get in or out other than through Madita’s bedroom, which could be a little inconvenient. For most people it would have probably been a weird set up, but the Brewers were all used to it.

‘Morning,’ she called up from the small sofa-bed upon which she slept. ‘Where are you going?’ Her hair was a mess, but her eyes were bright, suggesting she had been awake for some time. Indeed, on closer inspection, there was an old football sticker album poking out from under the duvet.

‘I’m just going to the phone box.’ Gary said, hoping to dissuade her with a curt tone. ‘Why don’t you wait here, and when I come back I’ll take you to the farmers’ market?’

‘FARMERS MARKET! YAY!’ Madita leapt from bed. ‘Can I eat a falafel wrap?’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’ Gary replied conscious of time.

‘Dad, did you ever meet…’ She consulted the sticker book for reference. ‘Orsolya Gere..?’

‘No.’

‘Sipke Tarala?’

‘No.’

‘Xí… xì… Êns… ..? Is that how you pronounce that?’

‘No idea, and no.’

‘Maybe I’m not saying it right.’ Madita had her sandals on, and was now in hot pursuit of her father, as he headed down the garden path. ‘Ex-ee Ex-ee Ayn… sh..?’ She held the jotter close to her face, brows furrowed with concentration.

‘Madita, I don’t know honey.’ A conversation about football at seven in the morning… what had he done in a past life to deserve this?’ ‘Madita if you want to come along, we need to be quick.’

‘Okay’ she answered, closing the jotter and breaking into a slight jog. ‘Which teams did you play for again? In the Premiership I mean?’

‘Oh, darling, I can’t remember.’ Gary was beginning to feel hot under the collar. He would make sure to ask Dr Durí if it were possible that he was suffering PTSD, connected to his time in football. (It was his latest theory.)

‘But it wasn’t so long ago..!’ Madita pestered, slipping her hand inside her father’s to get a bit of a pull up the hill. ‘You’re not very old. Please try to think…’

‘Chatswood, and…’ Gary’s mind was blank. ‘Morgenmantel.’

‘Mogenmantel..?’

‘I believe so.’

‘As in dressing gown..?’ Madita erupted in a snigger. ‘ You. Mean. Mantlegrove.’ She added, as if she were teaching a toddler to speak. ‘Who do you support more: Schottia or Nephara?’

‘I don’t have a preference.’

‘I… eh… me neither, I guess…’

All Gary could do was sigh, and wait for the next round of probing. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day… Well, it had been a long fucker of a life so far – why should he expect today to be any different?

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SBCNEWS Online...
Football special - Copa Rushmori

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Skipper, Bonnie McGillivray, was reluctant to comment, when it was put to her by journalists after the game - but there was sense in Schottia, last night, that their decade of misery might be coming to an end. With an unlikely victory over Savojarna at a packed Albrecht Road stadium, the Auks are now tantalizingly close to a first major final in eight years. Football is never that easy though, and with Pasarga lying in wait in the semis, it’s going to take another gargantuan push, if they are to overcome a team who just put five goals past Saintland.

Raven Cullen will likely be the one left smiling longest tonight, however, as the Brenecian appears to have turned this unorganized rabble into a cogent attacking unit in a very short period of time.

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Savojarna 3–5 Schottia @ Albrecht Road
Line-up: Lorrey, Corello, McGillivray, Kamara, Carlin, Bronte, Bánach, Soria Luna (Mirka), Cnocstanger (McInnes), Avelione, Martel Burns (Jevđenijević)
Goals: Cnocstanger, Bánach, Avelione (2), Martel-Burns

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After the way their defence caved during the group stage defeat to Savojarna, Schottia knew they would be up against it, and there suspension of their steadiest defender, John Hare, was an ominous sign. As one might have predicted, Schottia indeed failed to organise themselves properly, in an end-to-end first half, which saw the sides head up the tunnel with the scores level at 3-3. The Auks rode their luck at times, and also had Jack Avelione to thank for keeping them in it, with his pressure-relieving forays into the opponents’ half, as well as a headed goal on 43 minutes which pulled them back level against the run of play. Time after time, Schottia were getting caught far too flat, with the height of Freya Sigurdsdottir allowing the Savojar team to bypass the midfield and put the back four under direct pressure.

As they began the second half, Schottia needed to find the kind of defensive composure that had been sorely lacking in the tournament so far. Luckily, against the odds, keeper Ed Lorrey managed to pull off a crucial save to keep them in the match, just when it looked to all the world that Krister Voynov was going to put Savojarna back in front. This seemed to give Schottia the lift they needed, as they went on to play some of their best football of the tournament so far. Connie Martel-Burns, and a second goal for Avelione helped Schottia to their highest profile scalp since their return to competitive football, and one that is likely buoy the team with much needed confidence.

Of course Parsarga will be a whole other kettle of fish, and with the Wanderers also brimming with confidence, Cullen’s stars are likely to be in for a lively night. Given the fact that defending hasn’t been Schottia’s strong point this year, the prospect of facing the likes of Alexander Kárpáty and Alexander Jager will be one giving the manager sleepless nights.

[Sargossa]

As fixtures go it was perhaps one that had caught the eye of the neutrals. For fans of both Sargossa and Nephara it was a somewhat less pleasing sight. When Corsairs and Cormorants have clashed in recent years there’s been no end of drama. The final of the thirtieth Copa. The semis one tournament later. The crucial middle group fixture at the last World Cup, and the crazy seven goal thriller that followed. And now another big tournament encounter awaited. If past fixtures were anything to go by there’d be very little separating the sides come the end. At least a repeat of that goal fest in Equestria was unlikely. Two competent footballing nations couldn’t pull that off again. That would be silly.

The Stadium of The Moon provided a suitably impressive backdrop as the tournament’s second and fourth seeds lined up for the respective anthems. Plenty of Sargossans and Nepharim were in attendance. Alongside them were scores of locals, ready to savour a meaty starter before the main course of the host nation’s quarter final against Saintland the following day. Two sets of players assumed their positions, two coaches exchanged brief pleasantries before taking their seats in their respective dugouts and the Darmeni referee touched the whistle to his lips. Battle commenced.

Nephara are set up to absorb pressure and Rodrigo Defederico’s Corsairs were only too happy to oblige. Saúl Escribano was looking in ominous form on the left. He may not have been able to outpace Anita Sanger but he could outthink her. And he did, before drilling a low drive into the box which was turned in by the outstretched boot of Fabián Guzmán. When Guzmán swept in Goyoso’s slide rule pass with a first time effort twelve minutes later the fans in dark blue were in dreamland.

Sargossa do tend to deploy three rather large and imposing centrebacks. An intimidating barrier in most fixtures. But the movement of Estrella Hawke is something else entirely. Star by both name and nature. Which is probably why one of the best strikers in the sportiverse found herself unmarked, ten yards out, with the ball at her feet. The end result was just as you’d expect. But her good work was undone at the other end as Ilyana Brosch stuck tight to her designated attacker. Too tight as it turned out. Down she and Tomas Murillo went and the referee unequivocally pointed to the spot. Sergio Espina, the captain, placed the ball on the spot, sent Mercator the wrong way and sent Sargossa in at the interval with a two goal cushion restored.

Back out on the pitch after the break Corsairs braced themselves for the inevitable reaction. And boy did it come. Daniella Strauss had made the brave call to replace the surprisingly ineffective Chimera Moxham with Malachi Chalk at half time. Taking off a potent offensive weapon after forty-five minutes while trailing in a must-win match was bold. But any criticisms would have died in throats as a storming run from the new boy was clumsily ended by Enrique Muñoz. It was a freekick that Moxham probably would have relished but in her absence Rowena Strongbow bent the ball up, over the wall before dipping just inside the angle of post and bar, leaving Roberto Penedo rooted to the spot.

It was that stage of a match when the time disappears at an unseemly pace for one side and appears to go backwards for the other. Despite the protestations of their coach on the touchline the Corsairs’ defence was dropping deeper and deeper, pushed back under the weight of waves of Nepharim attacks. The defence creaked. The defence buckled. The defence eventually broke. Hawke threaded a beautiful pass through to substitute Arista Tzorvas. The Olympic Thessia forward controlled it with one touch but, appreciating the angle was against her, clipped the ball back to where Malachi Chalk was arriving. The timing of the run was impeccable and Chalk planted a header beyond the despairing Penedo.

Nepharim players charged off in celebration while Sargossans looked at each other aghast, trying very hard to ignore a familiar sinking feeling. Penedo helped that though, making a smart stop to deny Tzorvas. While at the other end Mercator showed her sublime reflexes in tipping Guzmán’s looping header over the bar. The final few minutes saw few chances of real note as two sets of players resigned themselves to another thirty minutes of torment.

Normal time had been a battle. Extra time was a far cagier affair. Tired legs and tired minds probably contributed to that. They certainly contributed to the next goal. Adrián Fonseca looked forward and drove a pass ahead of Diego Alejandro Costa. The Cormorant's defence stepped up, the flag stayed down and Costa slipped the ball beyond Mercator to send the Sargossan fans into raptures. 4 – 3. Again. How could it be 4 – 3 again?

But Nephara’s finest had their own bitter memories of that seven goal encounter and it lit a fire inside them, determined to avenge that cruel moment in their recent history. With one hundred and nineteen minutes on the clock they won that inevitable late corner. Mercator went up. Everyone went up. Twenty one players jostled for space in and around the Sargossan penalty area. Strongbow stepped up and the delivery was devilish. It was whipped into the box. An almighty scramble followed. And the ball flew over the line. Replays were needed to determine the last touch as the Nepharim players wheeled away. Who was in the right place at the right time? Who else but Estrella Hawke. Sargossan players dropped to their knees, the coach had his face in his hands. Another ninety seconds of play yielded nothing more than the whistle. Penalties.

In a tale of two tosses Espina won the choice of ends, picking the one with a large bank of dark blue support behind it, and Hawke won the second one. She determined that Nephara would take the first penalty. She herself would take the first penalty. It wasn’t her best. The height was poor but the placement and power were just good enough to prevent Penedo’s fingertips from keeping it out. The cameras caught the Cormorant’s captain flick a quick glance to the heavens as she walked back towards the centre circle, the relief was plain.

César Goyoso stepped up first for Sargossa. His effort took a similar trajectory to Hawke's but lacked the drama, as Mercator guessed wrong. Nor was there drama when the cultured left foot of Rowena Strongbow dispatched the ball comfortably past Penedo, before substitute Fonseca levelled the shootout again.

Then came Tawny Shone. The battler from the wrong side of the Sabrefell tracks was hardly going to shirk penalty duty. She went down the middle with power but the effort was slightly too low. Penedo dived and fortune smiled upon him as his trailing leg blocked the shot. Advantage Sargossa.

It was Fabián Guzmán who would attempt to take advantage. He’d run himself into the ground, earning two goals in normal time in the process. Belying that fatigue he placed the ball low into the bottom corner to consolidate the lead. Putting all the pressure on Arista Tzorvas. Not that it seemed to bother her as she lashed her effort with power into the roof of the net. But Saúl Escribano kept up that pressure with a near-perfect strike that clipped the inside of the post as it went in.

Monako Saroszi would take Nephara’s fifth. A winger in need of a redemption story. Could this be it? Eighty thousand fans held their breathe. Up Saroszi stepped. It was low, hard and beyond the reach of Penedo. Two clenched fists and a roar greeted it. Saroszi had ensured that the win wouldn’t just be handed to Sargossa. But here is where a gamble paid off, big time. Common convention states that a side picks their top five penalty takers, who then line up in the order of one to five. In Sargossa we tend to invert that. It was unquestionably a gamble, as the shootout could be over before your top taker has had a kick. Not this time though.

With the nation one kick from another Copa Rushmori semi Sergio Espina, the squad’s first choice penalty taker, placed the ball carefully on the spot. Then came the battle of wits with Hesterine Mercator. He’d taken one in normal time, would he go the same way? The fans froze in place. Neither coach could watch. Mercator guessed that he would.

He didn’t.

[Eura]

Fifty six thousand football fans had been crammed into the Stadium of the Sun in Belja to watch a Copa Rushmori quarter final that could easily be confused for several others. Eura and Taeshan have been here before, the latest in a very long line of matches between the two teams who could be forgiven for being increasingly sick of the sight of one another with each occasion. Few would describe this as a "rivalry" - the two nation's are not geographically close, there is no hostile atmosphere to the matches, and with a couple of notable exceptions Eura versus Taeshan has historically been a fixture dominated by Euran victories rather than a close contest. Yet there could be no denying there was history here, the most significant dynamic being the clash of footballing cultures this fixture throws up every time it is played. Eura are a classically attacking side who for decades have been the envy of much of the world for their passing game, midfield strength and star strikers, but haven't once looked like having the kind of elite tier defensive unit that such a successful team should possess. Taeshan are known for their outstanding defensive discipline and frustrate top opponents very often, but their defensive outlook limits their horizons and regularly puts many watching to sleep.

Each time Taeshan appear in Eura's schedule, the game itself tends to follow an increasingly familiar pattern. Taeshan, possibly recognising that the weight of recent history suggests Eura are the better team, tie down all eleven players in the hope of shutting Eura out. Eura respond by playing a high line and getting as many people in and about the box as possible, looking for one or two goals to get the win. Now and then the Taeshani strategy works, but in most cases they slip at some point, and the Euran's come out on top. There is also hopeful speculation before each game that the match in question will be the one that's different. After all, there had to be an exception to prove the rule eventually. These predictions can be put down to desperation as much as any kind of realistic hope; Eura are not Eura unless they are looking to score and always leaving the defensive door slightly ajar, and Taeshan are not Taeshan unless they are patiently grinding out a result while sweating profusely at the idea of trying to score more than one goal. This game wasn't going to break from the trend. It began as expected and settled into a predictable rhythm captured perfectly by the possession stats for the first five minutes. Eura had enjoyed possession for a whopping eighty percent of the play so far.

Brian Bond has been one of the standout players of the tournament to date. However he did not look as impressive in the early stages in the Stadium of the Sun, where it was ironically pouring down with rain. There were no loose balls to latch on to, no shaky defenders to muscle off the ball. Opportunities were snuffed out before he could even begin to try and grasp them. It was a vintage Taeshan performance; kill the game for long periods and starve an opponent like this one of any chance to exploit weaknesses. Randall Abl Bakr and Daigo Coshan might not be global superstars, yet as a pair they are doubtless more effective than many allegedly world class defensive partnerships, looking like titans together as they sit deep in their own half. Behind them their rookie sixteen year old goalkeeper Florian Wagner managed his penalty area as well as any international goalkeeper. Eura were fielding the same trio of attacking midfielders that had been so effective against Darmen, the narrowly focused and interchangeable wolf pack of Rhys Griffiths, Oscar Coltrane and Anthony Townsend. This time none of them looked in any danger of scoring soon. Moira Woakes could be seen warming up enthusiastically throughout the first half, no doubt chomping at the bit to kick one of those three out of the first team and take their place. Her theatrics on the sideline were the most exciting feature of the first forty minutes of the game as Taeshan's wall of purple did its job. Without her, time could have stood still and no-one would have noticed.

The dangerous thing about these situations is when a chance against the run of play happens. In the fortieth minute, the Purple Knights had the chance they had been waiting for. Townsend tried to pick out Monica Rowland with a pass in central midfield that she could never reach, an idiotic bit of decision making by Ma Alameome's main man. Shiloh Morgenstern took his chance, gobbling up the free ball and sauntering into the Euran half with all the time in the world. Harvey Blake committed to pressing him too early and was bypassed by a simple pass forwards to Abriel Torres, and suddenly it was three attackers against one defender, Charles Roberts, and the keeper Kevin Belgrave. Torres kept going with the ball as Robert's matched his run without throwing himself in. Finally Torres took the plunge and passed across the edge of the area to Wilhelm Nkitilina. Nkitilina should have scored. He had all the time in the world to do so. Instead his inexperience got to him and he slashed at the ball awkwardly, sending it just wide of the right hand post to a huge sigh of relief from Michael Brandon on the touchline. Eura tried to get another chance in before the break and were denied by more solid Taeshani defending. In the second half, something would have to give for Eura to win.

A like for like substitution was made at half time. Moira Woakes replaced Oscar Coltrane as his knee was worryingly playing up again. On current form this might have been a blessing in disguise. She had a spring in her step and instantly injected much needed vigour into Eura's attacking play, making several good runs in behind the Taeshan defence and testing Wagner with a sizzling strike from twenty yards. It still wasn't enough though, not with the rest of the team misfiring. Liam Armstrong tried to break the deadlock with a memorable long range goal in the sixtieth minute. All he actually did was lift the ball embarrassingly high into the crowd, and yet it didn't feel like a wasted opportunity with Eura having run out of any other ideas. Taeshan then had their second clear cut chance and once again should have done better, although this time Eura defended well, Roberts preventing another Nkitilina shot with a superbly timed tackle moments before the young striker could shoot. As the threat of extra time and penalties began to loom even with a third of the ninety minutes to go, an intervention was desperately needed, and if it was going to be anyone it was going to be Bond. Eura's captain Scott Coles seemed to have realised this and was encouraging his teammates to do a very un-Euran thing this early in the game. "Get it up to the big man!" Since Lofty Jones had been edged out of international contention the route one approach had been absent from Eura's tactical options.

Sensing he may have to do this himself, Coles took the risk of a speculative long ball down the left hand side in the seventieth minute, when Eura were in possession but sitting deeper than they had for most of the game after fending off a Taeshan counterattack. It was a brilliantly judged bit of opportunism from the Euran right back, who had clearly spotted that his opposite number Geoffrey Klingenberg was slightly exposed out on the other side of the pitch, just inside his own half. Most of his team were on the left side of the pitch. The cross field ball was overhit and threatened to go out in front of Klingenberg close to the halfway line. That wasn't a problem because it provided the opening Bond needed to do something magical. When Eastweald paid a big fee for Bond questions were asked about whether it was worth it, and moments like this have done a lot to consign those questions to the refuse heap of history. Bond raced forward and, with his body facing the dugout, launched his right boot in the air like he was performing a karate kick, knocking the ball over Klingenberg as he waited for it to fly out of bounds. The ball traveled twenty yards, much too far for most to run on to, but Brian Bond is not like most players. He ran around Klingenberg outside of the sideline, like he was lapping a slow truck on a motorway, and set off with a burst of jaw dropping acceleration down the wing. He knocked the ball forward again with his head and then veered towards goal with the ball at his feet.

None of the defenders could get back quick enough. Wagner made himself big and got into a good position and did as much as he could to save it without reward. Bond leathered the ball through Wagner and into the top right corner like the goalkeeper didn't even exist. At first he didn't celebrate. Then he let his mouth slip into a grin, a scream, a roar, a roar echoed by half the stadium which had descended into pure joy. Every Euran on the pitch except for Belgrave followed the striker as he leaped over the advertising hoardings and bounded across the large open area behind the goal towards the fans. Eura have always scored good goals and not infrequently. It still felt like a while since one that would be burned in the memory quite as much as this. Taeshan were visibly dumbstruck by the goal and struggled to mount an effective response. By the time they had got their act together Eura had started opening up gaps and created the second chance they needed to finish the job. Griffiths and Bond exchanged passes on the left side of the penalty area before the latter crossed to Townsend at the back post. Townsend headed the ball down and Coshan had to heroically scoop the ball off the line, almost scoring an own goal as he did so, only for the gently cleared ball to sit up perfectly for Griffiths to crack it into the back of the net on the volley. Taeshan stabilised too late after they went two down and Eura had beaten them again with a bit of world class skill and good fortune in equal measure. All of Eura's players paid tribute to the fans. Bond bowed, to which the faithful cheered for an encore. He had made this match memorable after all.

[Pasarga]

Perhaps it was the intimate environment of one of the country's oldest stadiums, built to the nation's oldest club, but there seemed to be a spark of magic about on the cool summer's evening in Stein-los. A soft wind and a seven o'clock local start meant that the usual late summer heat had been mostly whisked away and instead there was a comfortably or even slightly cool temperature inside of a packed Stein-los Stadium. While not the same shade as that which was being worn by the national team, even the seats in the stadium were green, as if the national team was meant to be playing in this stadium more often than they did, compared to the red stands of the Stade de Torgos. All in all, it was the sort of atmosphere and evening that those in attendance knew that there was something special about to occur and that all the jitters and worries that everyone was seeming to have leading up to the match need but be disregarded as over dramatized pre-match nerves. This would be a night where Pasargan persistence would eventually win the day, little did those who attended knew that persistence instead would be replaced by power and precision.

From the opening kickoff, the two Alexanders were making the Saintland defenders look slow and unorganized, a major departure from the usually rigid and stern looking backline that had been on display in the dual islands up to this point. When Jager would fall in deep, Kárpáty would cut in behind and latch onto the flick or one touch pass while Jager would make diagonal runs when it was his partner falling back to link up the play. It was this back and form movement that would open up the scoreline, as Jager would head on the ball just outside the six that Kárpáty was able to get his toe out in front of the keeper's grasping maw and put the hosts up just nine minutes in. Two minutes later it was Jager would was pumping his fists into the air, as he had turned his defender and made a deep diagonal from the midfield that Ádám Berecz was able to see and put in the perfect cross for the young striker to chest down and then blast into the lower far corner of the goalmouth, doubling the lead and putting up a giant challenge for a Saintland side that had been finding troubling scoring goals.

The relentless attack broke down their opposition once more just before the half hour mark, as some neat midfield triangle play allowed Mária Vöröss to get into the area and add her name to the score sheet with a shot that was perfectly placed, not needing to blast it through like the strikers had. To their credit, Saintland was able to bounce back, just before the stroke of halftime, making the deficit just two goals after their own bit of passing play managed to shake up the Wanderers' backline just enough for a scoring chance that Galambos was unable to keep out. The goal might have taken the wind slightly out of their sails but Srđan Jakšić was actually glad for the goal as it gave him something to drill on during the halftime talk. There would be no reason for this team to think they had already secured their passage into the semifinals just yet and not come out looking for a fight in the second half after having conceded that goal, it was a point he would hammer home. Letting their foots off the gas had been a problem not just during the previous Qualifying campaign but for most of the last decade, it would be something he would look to rectify during his tenure if he could help it.

Jager took that talk to heart and a mere six minutes after the whistle brought the young striker to double his tally, this time being the recipient of Kárpáty's hard work in linking up the play, sliding in the younger attack just a step ahead of the defender for a one on one with a keeper that the Revolutionaries' star was never going to miss. It was not all the starters who would get in on the scoring action though, as Júlia Müller got her second goal of the tournament in the seventy-third minute, after Jager had been taken off to keep him healthy for the seemingly clinch semifinal fixture. With a healthy lead and not a whole lot of time left on the clock, the Wanderers' pulled back on the reins a bit, satisfying themselves with merely keeping possession of the ball and seeing the game out after they had tired and pulled apart the Saintland backline for the better part of the match. It was with a roaring applause that the final whistle came and the team could let out an exhale, having secured their passage to the semifinals, which was the goal of the squad before the tournament had began.

The side now moves to northern Pargis, a more rural part of the nation, to one of the nation's hidden gems of a stadium in Fire Park. There they get to face a Schottia side who many had thought dead and gone, having not seen them in the international calendar for some time, yet here they were staring down the Wanderers and looking to spoil the party that the squad has going on in their homeland. With their defeat of Savojarna, one of the region's most premier teams, gaining what would be something of a revenge against them following the group stage, the Wanderers have to know that though the players are different, the heart of a World Cup winning side still rests strong inside of their would be foe. It is far from an easy task, but when three of the last four in the Copa all have at least one World Cup title to their name, this round was never going to be an easy one for any involved. Recent form might suggest that the Wanderers and Eura should both be favorites for the upcoming fixtures and look for a rematch in the Final, but predictability is nothing in the knockouts, where lady luck can swing in a moments notice...

[Pasarga]

For whom does the bell toll here in the semis?

Semifinals
Eura 3–3(3–3 AET)[4–5 PKs] Sargossa
Pasarga 5–4 Schottia

3PPo
Eura v Schottia @ Telathron, Targas

Final
Sargossa v Pasarga @ Stade de Torgos, Torgos

[Sargossa]

The thoughts of the Sargossan fans who were back were this tournament began, Stein-los’s impressive Kilmonarch, probably echoed those of the millions watching back in Soluca, Maturín, Jucaro, Cordova, Goza and Torreón. How exactly are we back here again? Eura and Sargossa are two rather competent footballing sides. Eura are tenth in the world. Sargossa are thirteenth. Eura are the tournament’s top seeds. Sargossa are seeded second. Yet the basics of the game for the second massive knockout fixture in succession went somewhat out the window.

Although perhaps that could have been predicted beforehand. Sargossa and Eura both are impressive on the front foot but can suffer from a glass jaw. And the boxing analogy proved to be apt as the match at times resembled two heavyweights taking wild swings at each other. Six times the heaviest blows landed. Three times apiece. Just like against Nephara there was no separating the sides after ninety minutes. And a further half an hour failed to produce a decisive moment as two tired sets of players reluctantly settled for the inevitability of penalties.

Corsairs coach Rodrigo Defederico is a keen believer in penalty practice at major tournaments. It showed, with a one hundred percent record in the shootout against Nephara. A performance that was followed up by three perfect penalties against Eura. The Eurans registered three of their own but it was the fourth that proved to be decisive. Anthony Townsend beat Penedo with confidence but could only watch in horror as his effort smacked into the foot of the post and bounced back out. Saúl Escribano buried his effort. Euran captain Scott Coles did the same. Once again leaving Sergio Espina, Sargossa’s first choice penalty taker, with the chance to clench another big knockout win. Last time it ensured passage to the final four, this time the final itself beckoned. And he embraced it fully, sending Kevin Belgrave the wrong way and sending the nation through.

So to the Stade de Torgos, one of Rushmore’s great sporting arenas. And the site of arguably Sargossa’s greatest sporting triumph, victory over Vephrall in the final of the forty first Cup of Harmony. This time though the Corsairs will renew acquaintance with none other than Pasarga. The hosts. The holders. A force to be reckoned with anywhere in the Sportiverse. Much more so in their own backyard. Sargossa will need all of that Cup of Harmony spirit and more besides to better the Wanderers in Olde Rushmore’s last surviving Classico (Classicolde?). It will be the eighteenth and most important meeting between the nations, with Pasarga edging the record by seven wins to six. Evening up the score would be nice, a fourth magnificent trophy would be even nicer.

[Pasarga]

Pasarga. Sargossa. Two nations that echo in the entire region, as they have put their mark on the region and its history time and time again. Two of the old blood of the nation, one of the few remaining classicos or derbies left in the region, and two of the four nations that came together in Torgos all those decades ago and agreed to the founding of the Copa Rushmori in the first place. It could be said that without these two nations, along with Nethtopia and the revered Candelaria And Marquez, that the tournament taking place never would have been made possible in the first place. It is then fitting that in the Final of the current edition of the tournament that two of its founders will play for the right to be made champion inside the very city where the idea of the tournament was proposed in the first place. Never minding the fact both the political and footballing history that the Wanderers and Corsairs have together that will be pushing the fire to burn ablaze even hotter than it was before the two sides had secured their passage into this momentous occasion.

Schottia played as desperately and as intensely as anyone could have predicted from the once crowned World Cup Champions, yet their best was not quite good enough on that night in Troubalose and were the victims of the youthful moment that Srđan Jakšić had brought forward to the Wanderers. Playing in their all black third kits, it seemed as if the attacking talent of the Wanderers would then play the role of the grim reaper and bring the hopes of Schottia to a conclusion, with Nataša Horvat being the one who would put the final nail in the coffin with her game winning goal in the seventy-third minute. After an hour of back and forth football that had seen eight goal already produced, with a first half hattrick from Alexander Jager and a goal from Orsolya Gere to have leveled things on the hour mark, it was the substitute and her fresh legs and energy that would seal the game. With a lead to protect and the Final beckoning, the backline of the Wanderers steeled themselves and kept the Schottia attack at bay, making up for the play that had allowed the match to be this close in the first place, until the final whistle was sounded and the Wanderers letting out a sigh of relief and jubilation, now having a massive game in the capital to try and retain their title.

Retaining the title was never quite the stated goal of the team when the tournament was announced, after all there were many who had said that they were undeserving champions in the last edition in Qusmo, with the media even blacking out the tournament in the dual islands. If they were undeserving regional champions, that sentiment had to have grown with their performance after, a far cry from what one would have expected from one of the "Big Three"'s champion. However on home soil and a fresh mindset, with a youth movement and a small adjustment to the tactics that the squad employed, suddenly the Wanderers were looking like a team that had been quite worthy of taking the crown of Rushmore as her best and premier team. With a single game left and having turned that edge, then why not dream big and think that the title was not only quite righly earned two years ago, but now they would cement their redemption with a final knockout blow to a side just as talented and just as able to lay claim to being Rushmore's best.

The side is expected to play in their white kits, as the Corsairs are technically going to be the "home" side for the match and are expected to trot out in their usual navy and black kits. Black and white, blue and red, these diameticaly opposed colors seem to color the narrative between the two sides, as the rivalry between the Corsairs and Wanderers is rekindled with more on the line than simple bragging rights or ones individual record against the other, of which the Wanderers do currently have a small advantage. No, it would be a trophy, it would be a mindset that could carry both squads to great heights in the following months with the World Cup and its qualifying on the horizon. One side is looking for legitmacy, the other for grand glory, of which is the more honorable and stronger cause? Ninety minutes will look to be the answer to that question.

[Pasarga]

We're all waiting for the End
Final Cutoff

3PPo
Eura 0–2 Schottia

Final
Sargossa 1-2 Pasarga
scorinated by Recuecn