Independents Championship 20 EVERYTHING THREAD

[Recuecn]

Helibert Wolf sat with his head in his hands, legs sprawled on the turf at the Estadio Internacional. Tears welled in his eyes. After weeks in the tournament, this was the moment of catharsis. The anticipation and adrenaline and stress had all been building up to this moment, and now the final whistle had blown and it was all over.

Particularly after the harrowing game against West Barack and East Obama, going all the way to sudden death penalties, it felt like the stakes were just always getting higher and higher.

There had been highs and lows along the way. The trip to HUElavia had started off with all the hustle and bustle of an entire sports team catching a plane together, and as the constant travelling between games had started to feel more normal, the games themselves had started to take on a larger and larger importance.

There had been the game against Delte, the multiverse champions, whom Reçueçn had almost made it all the way back to facing off against a second time. There had been the games against Adab and Abanhfleft, Safiloa and Trolleborg, with opponents who increased in difficulty every match. Then there had been the game against HUElavia, a callback to an old rivalry in which Les Licornes were finally able to redeem themselves, seven cycles later. Then, of course, the thrilling game against West Barack and East Obama, which, although low-scoring, had proved a nail-biter the whole way through and come all the way down to sudden death penalties.

Along the way, there had been all the peripheral experiences that come along with a soccer tournament: the cuisine of a foreign nation (delicious!), the long-distance phone calls from wives and girlfriends, the training, the off-days, the hotels, the bus rides, the crowds, and the press interviews.

And at the end of it all, there had been Saterun. Just at the moment when the final was close enough to touch, when Coach Relié was starting to review footage of the Delte game to figure out how to beat the team the second time around, and when that final match had seemed close enough to plan for, Saterun, the final hurdle, had proved too much. The Saternalians had simply been better. Reçueçn had done well to get this far, but they could hardly expect to make it to the final when they hadn't even competed in the IAC in years.

And so it was more than a mere one-zero defeat that brought tears to Helibert's eyes. The whistle that had blown ended more than just a single game. It was the end of a whole tournament. A month that Helibert knew he would remember forever, its myriad experiences burned in his mind.

Perhaps it had not ended in a victory. But they would be fond memories. For now, there was still a chance--a sliver of a chance--at third place. And then, another season of the LNRF. And somewhere beyond that, another attempt at World Cup Qualification. There would be more games.

Helibert stood up, dusted himself off, and made his way back to the locker-room.

[Saterun]

Estadio Internacional rumbled.

All 82,500 seat were full. There were fervent fans from both sides, along with some HUElavians who wanted to catch a good game. The atmosphere at all of their games had been incredible, but this was just something else. Hans-Jürgen was amazed. The largest stadium in Saterun was Sultan Stadium, and it had a capacity of 76,000. It could get roaring on matchday, but never anything like this. The architectual beauty of the open-air stadium coupled with the nightime sky made it feel surreal. As the teams lined up for the national anthems, Hans-Jürgen couldn't help but smile. However, he remembered what had happened in the last IAC semifinal. This time, things would be different.

The opposition's skill was quickly displayed. Saterun struggled to get into the first half, but held their own. A breakaway resulting from an Andrei Coiro pass almost put the Claws up in the 30th minute, but that was all the attacking they were really doing. For the first half, it was evident that they needed to hold their composure and not break down. For this game, they all followed Kameron's advice to the letter. They passed the ball more, working and tiring their opponents. Fabian Cruz had to put a last ditch tackle in just before the half, but they generally let very little by. It was a battle between a dynamic offense and a stoic defense.

They went into the break, the score locked 0-0. Kameron knew what he had to do. Although it hadn't been an easy game by any means, his players didn't look too tired. The passing game had conserved their energy. "Alright guys, it's time." Hans-Jürgen's eyes lit up. Kameron continued. "We've run them ragged. It's time to switch it up. I want you lads to bring it to them. As soon as we kick off the second half, go full force. They won't know what hit them. Fabian, Avishai, you've followed directions perfectly up until now, but I want you more mobile for the second half. We're going to try working things down from the wings. If that doesn't work, we can change, but try this first. Hans-Jürgen, Ndidi, allow them to overlap. Thiago, Maksymillian, I want you two focused down the middle. Work together and finish crosses from the flanks. Everyone else, keep doing the same. We need to hold our core shape. Go get 'em, lads." The team cheered. They went back out with energy and a plan.

Right away, the difference was noticable. Tiring out the opponents with passing had been a masterstroke by Kameron, and now Saterun were in total control. And they used it. Attack after attack was thrown down the wings, just waiting for someone to capitalize. And capitalize someone did. It was the 72nd minute. A quick overlap had left Fabian racing down the side, free from any opposing defenders. He lifted his head and crossed it, right before he would have run over the goal line. It was skill in itself to get that cross off. It dropped kindly to Thiago, who headed it towards goal. Unfortunately, it was just a bit off. Fortunately, Hans-Jürgen Becker wasn't. He slid near the left post, and, just as the ball was about to go out of play, he deflected it with the outside of his foot. In one clean motion, he popped up from his slide and was off celebrating. There were calls for offside, but a VAR check showed that he had been clear onside.

When the final whistle blew, Hans-Jürgen collapsed with disbelief. They had won the semifinal. For the second time, a Saterun NT was headed for an international final. Those players who had made it to the JRC 1 final were still remembered as heroes. And this wasn't just an invintational. It was the first big tournament on the international calender, one Saterun had struggled continously with before Kameron. Now, they were headed to the final. It was overwhelming for Hans-Jürgen. Maybe Leandro was on to something. Maybe they could win it.

Shockingly, the team ended up back in a bar. They were doing way to much of that nowadays. Hans-Jürgen was a bit distracted, however. He had gotten a text. When u flying back 2 Saterun? I have a conference there and maybe we overlap. -Claudia

After they had left Sao Salvador to play Delaclava, he hadn't thought that he would ever see her again. Now, they had a chance of meeting up, back in his home country. He was about to write back when Leandro and Ruben pulled him up. "C'mon, skipper, let's celebrate!" Those two were like children. But it was important. Hans-Jürgen was captain, and he had to act like one. He had spent a lot of his time here to himself, so now he wanted to inspire the team. He clinked his spoon against his glass. Everyone quieted down. "Listen, lads, we've made it to the final. It's time to forget whatever has happened before. We are on the edge of making history!" That got a cheer. "I'm not sure how many of you were following the first JRC, but there's a slogan that supporters used during that tournament: Walk Out Proud. The fact that we're here is an acheivement in itself. Whatever happens next, we should be proud of what we've accomplished. That's all from me tonight." He sat back down, among roars of applause. The Saterun NT were a bit of a rowdy bunch, but Hans-Jürgen knew that they were all fine people.

That night, he couldn't sleep. Yes, those words he had said were true, but it didn't take away from the sheer size of the occasion. Playing in front of 100,000 fans, in the first final Saterun's main national team had ever contested. And they were taking on the world champions. But, he reflected, they hadn't been beaten yet. The entire team had been playing well, but now it was time. One final hurdle before the start of WCQ. As the captain, this was on him. It was time to block out everything else. It was time for the IAC final.

[HUElavia]

We've reached the Final day of IAC 20. After 102 matches, we are down to the last two: The 3rd Place Match and the Final.

While our losing semi-finalists have a bronze medal to dispute, there is so much more on the line for our Finalists.

Our finalists have earned their right to fight for the claim of the "Best Team in the Indies."

While both have had very fantastic and respectable runs, only one can lift this coveted title.

Tonight, two teams will knock on Glory's Gate, but only one will have their knock answered...

3PPO and Final Cutoff

3rd Place Match
Reçueçn 1–0 Juvencus
(Estadio Capital, Curumba)


The 20th Independent Associations Championship Final

Saterun 2–1 Delte
(Estadio Nacional, Curumba)

Congratulations to the new IAC Champion and commiserations to the Runner-Up for their run.

A big thank you to all who participated in this tournament and for making this another memorable edition of the IAC.

We hope to see you again in due time when IAC 21 come around...

[Delte]

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Saterun 2-1 Delte
Sports Correspondent Kim Samrodd at Estadio Nacional in Curumba, HUElavia for the Skimpy Matchday Report & Negligible Detail Express (Sports Section)

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I won't dwell overly long on the finer details of this match but certainly mention should be made of the performance of the Saterun national team, out-thinking and out-playing the young Representatives who were perhaps already dreaming about their shiny new medals and were guilty of some naive complacency. It is fair to say they missed the potency up front they've enjoyed through most of the competition with Henry Lightman, who is back in Oswark-upon-Delte having his leg fixed at Saint Skolda's hospital. Credit to The Claws, they were sharper, stronger and generally more pointy than the Reps, and well deserving of the IAC title. If there are positives for the Reps, it is that this young team provided a deep run, saw the revitalisation of young Henry (before his unfortunate coming together with an emu), the emergence of Rillr Sawdare as a quality defender and a natural leader, and the debut of the Screvenor from the next valley along, Floyd 'Pokey' Fayle. He looks an excellent prospect at the back, a young giant with a calm head, and apparently no-one lost the walllet or phone out of their lockers, so another bonus. In fact, rumour has it Head Gaoler Mangald Aldynnum is seriously considering giving him early parole as reward for his good behaviour and even better performances, and finding him a club to play for in the Delte Valley Tuesday Evening & Sunday Lunchtime Super League. So all's well that ends well.

The game concluded with a guard of honour for Saterun as they took up the trophy, with a few players no doubt wondering if they have fought their way into Mo Unden's thinking for the next World Cup squad. And why not?

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Coming next from RPO, the Roleplay Production Office home-streaming service: The Bronze Giants - who are the greatest players in Deltic football history, and where are their statues? Even By Your Usual Standards - a new sitcom about grumpy old men and bitter lemons; and Banjollin County Blues - the continuing adventures of Pokey Fayle's rambunctiously recalcitrant recidivistic relatives, led by cretinous coniptionist Cousin Grunt of Gangrene Mountain. Oh boy, do those confederates put the con- into confederation. Tune in to NSWC Sign-ups for more!

[Saterun]

It was a beautiful day for football.

Estadio Nacional was packed to the brim. There were clear skies overhead, and the famed HUElavian tropical weather was coming in good today. As the teams walked out of the tunnel, five jets spewing paint colored with yellow, green, and blue flew over the stadium. It was surreal. Hans-Jürgen Becker breathed deeply in. Whatever happened today, they were making history. After the players had all shaken hands, he went over to the center and exchanged emblems with the Delte captain. They shook hands one final time, before the coin flip. As Saterun were listed first, they called. Hans-Jürgen chose heads without hesitation. It proved the right move. A few minutes later, Thiago Esparza kicked off the 20th IAC final.

It was now time for the only two unbeaten teams in the tournament to battle it out. One would emerge victorious, one would fall at the final hurdle. But however it went, it was bound to be close. This was apparent right away. This Delte squad may have been young, but they were experienced. They had made it this far, after all. But Kameron's lads kept their discipline. As to be expected in a final of this magnitude, the first part of the game was cagey. Neither team wanted to give up an early goal. Slowly, Saterun started to get more bold. It looked like the game was starting to open up a bit. Then, the Claws got too confident. Hans-Jürgen lost the ball deep into Delte's half, and the team only half-heartdly pressed. The Delte players took advantage, and suddenly Saterun was on the back foot of a counter attack. Most of the team was scrambling to get back. Hans-Jürgen's breath stopped as David Tonsoe took a crack from just outside the penalty area. It was a good shot. Amazingly, however, Ralf Abiatti rose to just about parry the ball away. It went behind for a corner, giving the Claws time to regroup. They cleared the kick, and seemed shaken. The match started to slow down again.

However, that all changed, just before the half. The Claws had been working the ball around the midfield, when all of a sudden Hans-Jürgen saw Maksymillian making a run through the back line. This ball had to be perfect. And it was. Hans-Jürgen's pass sliced right through the Delte defense, and it was simple for Maksymillian to run on to it. But he wasn't free yet. Two Deltic players were bearing down on him, and the goalkeeper was coming out to make the save. But Maksymillian was an experienced player. He had plundered goals in the A. Liga, and scored in IAC and WCQ matches too. He leaned over his shoulder to edge out one defender, then put on a burst of speed to beat the other. Now, he was one-on-one with the goalkeeper, although both center-backs were still on his tail. He pulled his foot back, swung, and... didn't shoot the ball. He took a quick touch sideways instead. It fooled the goalkeeper, however, and he dived out the wrong way. In doing so, he crashed into one of his own defenders. The other slid out in a desperate attempt to stop Maksymillian, but he had already slotted it home. He left three tangled up Delte players behind him as he ran away in celebration. These were the types of goals he was capable of.

After that goal, there wasn't much time left until the halftime whistle. The Saterun players went into the break on high spirits. They were 45 minutes away from winning an IAC final. Hans-Jürgen could almost feel the trophy. As they went into the locker room, it was evident how they felt. Kameron was a very experienced manager, and knew he had to intervene. "Alright, alright, lads, settle down. That was an excellent first half performance, but we can't let it slip now. I want you all to imagine what it would be like if we let this slip." Kameron let that sink in. "Yep. Not great. So go out there like it's still all on the table, because it is. Finish strong, lads. I'll be with you the entire time."

Saterun carried that sentiment with them into the next half. Their experience compared to the Delte squad was evident, and although they hadn't played in many finals in the NT, they had played in several high stakes WCQ matches, along with finals for their respective clubs. These players had the experience to lock down a final. But they were by no means playing negatively. This showed with Saterun's second goal of the match. Cipriano started the move. He played it wide to Glenn, who shifted the ball back into the middle. Now the Claws were starting to develop a rhythm. This entire tournament, they had been adjusting to the newer players and Hans-Jürgen's style of leadership. Now, it was all coming together. Hans-Jürgen himself really got the move going with a swung out pass to Ndidi, who controlled the ball nicely near the touchline. He layed the ball off to Fabian, who burst down the side. It took just one look up for the right back to swing the ball into the box. Saterun had really perfected the art of wing play. And there was only one target for Fabian's pass: the big man himself, Maksymillian Bates. The Real Anasb striker rose to meet the ball, virtually uncontested. It was a simple matter of him nudging it downwards to double Saterun's lead, and give him two goals in the IAC final.

They say that 2-0 is the most dangerous scoreline. It is when teams start to get complacent, but don't really have a large buffer. That almost happened for the Saterun squad. It was the 82nd minute, and life was good for Hans-Jürgen Becker. They were minutes away from realizing every player's dream of winning the IAC. They were moments away from history. It was these thoughts that distracted him, and allowed Onun Tasher to sneak up behind him and steal the ball. All of a sudden, just like against Poafmersia, they were on the back foot, desperately trying to recover. Some of these Deltic players may have been inexperienced, but they sure were good. In a matter of seconds, they had the defence scrambled. David Tonsoe dealt the final blow, sliding the ball in from a few yards out after a cross by Daniel Dight. Just like that, Saterun's lead had been slashed.

The game was nearly wrapped up. In the 87th minute, the fourth official held up the board for a substitution. Nidid came off, and Kaka came on. In that moment, Hans-Jürgen knew what he had to do. He jogged over to Kaka, removed his armband, and handed it to the old skipper. Kaka looked shocked. "Take it. You've earned it," Hans-Jürgen said. Kaka nodded. The Saterun crowd roared with approval. Now all they had to do was see out this match.

They were in the final minute of the match. It was the 90+4", and Delte had regained the ball for one last possesion. However quick they had been on their last attacks, they were twice as fast now. This was their last chance. They weaved the ball in and out, eventually working it down to Saterun's penalty box. As a playmaker himself, Hans-Jürgen knew exactly where Denixost Vagabonde was passing the ball when he lifted it into the box. Hans-Jürgen scrambled over to try to mark Onun Tasher. However, as he tried to turn, his left foot ran into his right leg, causing him to trip and fall. Nothing painful, and it certainly wasn't an injury, but it left Tasher wide open. He latched on to the ball, before giving it a quick whack towards the top right corner. Time seemed to slow. But Ralf Abiatti didn't. The NT goalkeeper rose to meet the ball, bringing it down hard between his hands. The Saterun team was instantly all over him. He had saved them from a certain goal. He kept it down there for a few seconds, before rising up to punt the ball. It arced beautifully up, and, at the vertex, the final whistle blew.

*****

As the final whistle in the IAC final blew, Kaka Sarabola felt the tears coming on. Tears of joy. It was certainly hard for a young squad like Delte to face defeat in the final, but they were very good, and would have many finals ahead. Now, the Claws got to revel in the moment. Half of the stadium was going wild, while supporters back home were surely having the time of their life. Kameron had run on to the field, and was hugging Hans-Jürgen and Fabian. Fireworks lit the sky, and confetti rained down on the field. Kaka could hardly believe it. Kameron Boyd had delivered Saterun an IAC trophy.

Eventually, it came time for the presentation. First, the Delte players collected their silver medals. The look of disappointment on many of their faces was obvious, but they would be back. Kaka was sure of it. And there were rumors that some members of this squad might be transfering over to the Saterun A. Liga, so Kaka might see them again soon. Eventually, they had finished giving out the finalist medals, and it was time for Saterun. First, the coaching staff walked up to recieve their medals. Then, to a roar of approval from the crowd, came Kameron. A true visionary, and now, undoubtbly the greatest Saterun coach of all time. He waved to the crowd as he got his medal. Then, finally, the players started to file on to the stage. Kaka was at the back of the line, as the captain, and he could see what it meant to each of these players to collect their medals. Saterun had for so long struggled in this competition, but now they were at the summit. It felt so good. Finally, Kaka himself was up. He strode on to the platform, another roar from the crowd accompaning him. The IAC Govering Body president hung his medal over Kaka's neck, and he took the trophy from a guest of honor. He kept it low as he walked over to the podium, and got in position. The crowd started to crescendo. Kaka squated down. HIs team went with him. And, with the final push of his tired legs, he raised the trophy. Across Saterun, onlooking fans went wild. Inside Estadio Nacional, it was incredible. Kaka smiled as the rest of his teammates got a chance to lift the trophy. And he finally knew. He had known it in his heart since the beginning of the cycle, but now he knew it in his head. At the end of this cycle and the A. Liga season, he would retire. The time was right. But even though it was the end for him, it wasn't for this Saterun squad. For them, it was only the beginning.

OOC: I want to thank Delte for a final to remember and HUElavia for an excellently hosted tournament. Before last IAC, Saterun had never even made it out of the group stage in this competition, and even last time, it was on GD. I never could have imagined the run we would have gone on last time, and the unbeliveable tournament we had this time. Truely, it is all a bit surreal. Maybe, this time, Leandro was right.