21: Momentum
“This place is rocking!”
There had been some level of criticism for Nathan Ellis’s decision to place his base of operations in Garvinson, far away from Hapilopper City, near the nation’s border with Star United States. That far away, it seemed like the football team would be hidden from the spotlight in a comparatively small town. But what the critics didn’t realize was that Nathan knew what he was doing. Garvinson was seemingly the only place that still gave a crap about football when the sport was dying elsewhere in Hapilopper. And he knew from his days playing in the HFA that there was no place in Hapilopper like Garvinson City Stadium. It may have been a smaller stadium than a place like Capital Stadium, but it was louder, more intimate and more intense than any other stadium in the league.
Some time during the team’s second match against Baker Park, Nathan knew he had made the right decision. There had been a definite party atmosphere in Garvinson the whole day – and it showed in the stands. Garvinson had turned match days into party days – on a level that wasn’t even seen in Hapilopper City. The area around the stadium had become a place for fans to tailgate, party and enjoy themselves – even fans not going into the stadium were partying. But inside the stadium, the fans were on a whole different level, dancing and singing and cheering to their fullest extent. There were some that felt like this wouldn’t last forever – after all, the way they were playing, they had to go back to Hap City, right? But they were going to make the most of it.
And Team Hapilopper had a lot to be excited about, too. It seemed like there was a bit of momentum going their way. After the so-called experts on television and radio had written the team off, the team made it a point to shove it in their faces. They wanted to show those so-called experts that they were a hell of a lot better than people were giving them credit for. So what you had was one of the most exciting combinations in all of international football – a high-octane offense playing smashmouth football – the kind of football where the players would send the ball up the pitch with all due speed while they punch you in the mouth and not letting up until the final whistle blew.
That kind of football was becoming more and more evident as the qualifiers played out. And it was becoming more evident as the team played Baker Park. In their first match together, it seemed like the two sides had everything for each other and then some – leading to that celebrated 5-5 draw still considered the most exciting single match of the entire qualifying campaign up to that point. But on this night, it seemed like Nathan’s boys just plain had it. They had what they needed to top their former regionmates and take a massive win.
For much of the match, the match looked like it would resemble another Baker Park match from this campaign – a draw. But in the 72nd minute, Dylan Deporte broke through. Deporte, known for his less-than-intelligent antics like the infamous “own goal toss” incident last year, was questioned by critics as to why he should even be on the team in the first place. And more than anything else, Dylan wanted to silence those critics and make them forget about what he had done. There was no better time to do that than now.
Meanwhile, off to the side, Stan McLamb was shouting at him as he ran down the pitch. “OVER HERE!” he roared.
It’s possible that Dylan hadn’t heard him. After all, Garvinson City Stadium was so loud that you could barely hear yourself think – and it was only getting louder and louder as Dylan rushed towards goal. But what Dylan saw – and what Stan was starting to see – was that he had a clear shot to goal and he was going to make the most of it. He stared down goalkeeper Rose McCormack, who had a pinpoint focus on him, and he knew that he’d have to resort to some trickery to fool her. She was a great keeper and he knew he couldn’t get the ball past the net using some elementary tactic.
He shifted his head hard left – signaling to Stan to prepare for a pass. Stan got himself into pass mode, caught the ball, rushed a little bit downfield and then – shockingly – passed it right back to Dylan, who alley-ooped it past McCormack and into the back of the net.
There was no explicit communication needed. Stan and Dylan knew what they were going to do. And while Stan prided himself on scoring as many goals as he could, he also acknowledged that – for the good of the team, for the good of the qualifying campaign and for the good of everything – sometimes it was just best to take a supporting role. So he was more than pleased to just offer a helping hand for the alley-oop shot that put Ellis Football ahead 2-1.
And, almost on a goofball impulse, thinking back a few years, Dylan had a dance in mind. It was a dance made famous by Parker Mathis a few years back, which went perfect to the tune of a popular dance hit at the time that Team Hapilopper had adopted as their unofficial theme song. And as the 25,706 at Garvinson City Stadium went absolutely wild, Dylan Deporte broke out the Funky Parker. It was a sign that – while Team Hapilopper was not on the top of the footballing world just yet, they were getting there. And oh boy oh boy, were they getting there in a hurry.
They could very well get there quicker than Nathan had expected.
“Funball”
After Nathan shook the hand of Baker Park manager Will Barnard and wished him and the Bees better luck for a hopefully better rest of the campaign – “you guys are so much better than your results show,” Nathan told him – he went to the media room to face members of the Hapiloppian sports media, including a few people who had openly questioned his ability to coach a football team. Nathan knew it, too, and wanted a very little bit to rub it in the faces of the media that had doubted him.
According to Nathan Ellis, head coach of the Hapiloppian team, this type of football sucks.
But there was a larger part of him who thought that was churlish at best. There was no sense in rubbing it in the faces of the media when he could, instead, build up his boys that he had fought so hard for, and they had repaid him in kind. The team was building some heavy momentum for a possible shock appearance in the World Cup playoffs – for a run at actually qualifying for World Cup 95. You know, the proper?
Almost immediately, a reporter asked him about Ellis Football’s style of play – heavily offensive, heavily physical, gritty and lots of emphasis on goal scoring.
“What do you call that?” the reporter asked. “You know, the style of play your team has been exhibiting.”
“I call it Funball,” Nathan said. “Football is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be entertaining for the fans, it’s supposed to be fun for the players to play and it’s supposed to be fun to watch. A 90-minute defensive skirmish where no one scores? That’s no fun. It’s no fun seeing a bunch of players passing a ball around not even trying to score. We want to attack. We want to send the ball up the pitch and past the head of the opposing team’s keeper. We score goals and we want to keep the other team on their toes. I know there’s another school of thought that thinks the exact opposite of what we do, but the last time I checked, doctors were giving insomnia patients videotapes of Ko-orenite matches to help cure them.”
More than a few reporters laughed at the unwarranted cheap shot towards Ko-oren – which seemingly came out of nowhere.
“What’d they do to you?” one reporter asked.
“Nothing, they’re one of the worst offenders when it comes to Post-Football,” Nathan responded. “We’re the chief practitioner of Funball. We want to have fun doing this. I want to see my boys running down the pitch, taking shots on goal, sending bullets past the keeper and dancing their way back. What I saw with Deporte and McLamb? That’s Funball at its finest. That’s what I want to see in my football teams – a team that kicks ass and takes names. If I could sum it up in a few words, it’s ‘Just score, dammit!’”
But there was another question that came up during the presser – one that went beyond Funball and its exciting style of play.
“You have mentioned the five year plan – get back to the World Cup by World Cup 97, and win it all by World Cup 100. Do you think you may be ahead of that plan?” a reporter asked.
Nathan thought about it long and hard. A lot of his swagger went away as he contemplated the question. It was clear that he was taking it seriously.
“It’s too early to know,” Nathan responded. “I will know the answer to that question when we’re done with the qualifying campaign. But to suggest that we’re ahead of where we planned for ourselves, that… it discounts the other teams in this group. To suggest that we’re going ahead of anyone, I’m not going to do that because that’s disrespectful to every other team in this group. There’s teams we’ve got to play again, you remember the Aleirave game? It’s just like when Banija beat us in the AOCAF. At that time I said that Banija ran through our asses like shit through a tin horn, man, and we could not stop them. Aleirave did the same thing. I say that to say that there’s six other teams in this group that we could get tripped up by – well, five, since we just went through Baker Park – but the fact of the matter is that every other team in this group, with the exception of one, has a very real chance to trip us up.”
Nathan stared out at the rest of the reporters with a serious look on his face. This was less the Nathan Ellis that had been such a violent, frightening force on the pitch and more the Nathan Ellis that was coaching a team of men through a tough campaign.
“If you can say we’re ahead of where we should be, then obviously you know something I don’t,” Nathan continued. “And I’m sure as hell not going to go into the Aleirave game feeling like victory is assured. Same with Cardenao and Myrtle Beach, Eshialand and Brusseldorf. All of those teams are strong teams that could trip us up like that. It’s bad for us to think that and it’s disrespectful to them. That’s why they play the games.”




















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