SOUR CHERRIES
Volume Three; Chapter 2
Federico's Watershed
Volume One
Volume Two
a)Federico's Conscience - b)Federico's Burden - c)Federico's Ghosts
1.Alexsandr's Speculation - 2.Federico's Watershed - 3.Sebastian's Solitude
** ** ** ** **
Volume Three; Chapter 2
Federico's Watershed
Volume One
Volume Two
a)Federico's Conscience - b)Federico's Burden - c)Federico's Ghosts
1.Alexsandr's Speculation - 2.Federico's Watershed - 3.Sebastian's Solitude
** ** ** ** **
In a long list of contenders, it was the most chaotic end to a match that he could remember. With the Terns’ qualification hanging in the balance if they failed to get a result, the whole match was already high stakes, with a lot resting on it, and it had been played with exactly that in mind by both teams involved. But the ending? The ending. The ending was wild.
Exhausted by the range of emotions he’d been put through in such a small amount of time, Federico Aalto leant against the wall outside the dressing room door, and took three deep breaths.
Elmyia, as expected, were somewhat out for revenge after their loss to the Terns in the Cup of Harmony. It was a revenge that they’d eventually gotten hold of, but not before Emmanuele Niemi had rifled the Terns into an early lead. Both sides were coming off a defeat in their opening group game, and were desperate to avoid a second, potentially elimination-worthy defeat in their second game. Accordingly, Elmyia’s Vesper Benedetti showed a strength that hadn’t been highlighted in any of Federico’s scouting videos to shoulder Ernst off the ball – something that had maybe happened during their club seasons facing each other in Chromatika - and drill home an almost instant equaliser.
The game had hardly slowed down from that moment.
In a frenetic, urgent, breathless game of end-to-end attacking, Jennings put Elmyia into the lead just before half-time, and Federico had had to work some magic during the internal, trying to bring his players’ heads back into the game. Though he would discover why later on, he was struggling to work out why so many of them were so distracted at the time.
In the second half, both Nijgaard and Nylund spurned chances to bring the Terns level, before an unlucky bounce from a clearance that came slamming back off the back of an oblivious Dementieva’s shoulder put Simmons clean through for a third Elmyia goal. Fortunately, Federico had the Terns made of stronger stuff than they used to be under Miroshnichenko, and a fierce run down the sidelines from a determined looking Jalmari Hagen put Elvis Haugen into a position where he couldn’t miss with his tap-in. Three-two. Game on.
Three minutes from full-time, the Terns equalised. Rushing through the middle, Kallenberger advanced into a pocket of space that seemed to unfold from nowhere, and pulled a delicate chip to the far post for Elmo Polland to head down into the six yard box. Nylund advanced, Nylund smashed the ball into the stanchion, and then just kept on running, following his shot into the goalmouth. Nylund picked the ball up, and ran back to the centre-spot to hurry Elmyia up. Federico waved his players on, and prepared Wickenheiser to come on for Dementieva in order to go all out for the win.
No sooner had he done so however, than the Terns were behind again.
Arguably, a point might have been enough given Ossidiacqua’s defeat to Yuezhou earlier in the evening. Arguably, Federico should have shut up shop. However, shutting up shop wasn’t in Federico’s toolbox, wheelhouse, or any other sort of metaphorical vessel where tactics were stored. As such, it maybe wasn’t a surprise to the few Polarians in the stadium when they saw Simmons advancing through the gap where Dementieva used to be, and thread the ball past a stranded Ohm to allow Benedetti to score Elmyia’s fourth goal, sealing the win for them in a dramatic end to the game.
And yet, somehow, the game only got more dramatic after the final whistle had blown.
Federico had seen bad natured ends to games before, with players getting in each others’ faces, or where fans had invaded the pitch and demanded justice from the opposition fans, players, or even the officiating team... but Federico had never seen anything like what had just happened.
Storming the pitch at the final whistle came, not fans, or angry coaching staff, but a swarm of figures dressed in black. You would have assumed it was a pitch invasion, other than the fact that each of them, quite clearly, were displaying the relevant security accreditation for the tournament. Federico had started to sprint onto the pitch to protect his players, but that fact and one other had made him slow down again to reassess the situation. The other fact being that, these figures weren’t running. They were walking. Walking briskly, but walking nonetheless. Pitch invaders didn’t walk, they ran. Who were these people?
And then Federico saw what they were doing, and all became clear.
OO.
Near enough every single one of the Terns had collapsed to the ground in visible exhaustion, despairing at having come so close and yet so far to getting their Copa campaign back on track. As they recovered one by one however, they started to do the sporting thing - as they’d been taught all their career - and made their way towards an Elmyia player to shake hands to congratulate the opposition on their win. Only, that’s exactly when the OO got in the way. Putting their hands all over the players, all over his players, Federico’s anger flared as he saw the OO guiding the Terns away from their opposite numbers and towards the tunnel. The Elmyia players, for their part, seemed a bit bewildered. Understandably over the moon to have come through a tough test in such dramatic fashion, some of them looked keen to return the offered handshakes, but were unable to do so.
Federico considered striding further onto the pitch to cause a scene, to demand the OO leave his players alone, but something made him pause. A solitary officer, dressed all in black like the others, had hung back from confronting any of the players on the pitch, and was simply standing and observing Federico. He could see him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to look directly at the officer, but he knew he was there; in the periphery. Watching. Observing. Federico caught his movements, and instead stood with his hands on his hips to do some watching of his own.
Some of the players were coming quietly, looking bemused and subdued as they were guided down the tunnel by at least one OO officer each. Marten Kallenberger and Nic Dementieva, having lifted a distraught Elmo Polland off the deck, were now having to hold the big man back as he attempted to get to Benedetti through three large and mean looking officers. Elmyia players circled, unsure what to do. Some strode furiously off the pitch, shooting Federico a dirty glance as they did so. Some hesitated, attempting to celebrate with their fans whilst trying to pretend the circus that was happening behind them, wasn’t. Others just stood and watched, not wanting to make themselves unavailable for sporting gestures, but not wanting to initiate any either, not through this wall of black shirted menaces.
Limbs were being flailed; arms grabbed in an attempt to guide the players off the pitch were getting shrugged off with growing intensity and tetchiness by the players affect. Federico watched as Odbjorn Ohm shoved one officer hard enough to skittle him into another, who unfortunately hit the deck followed by her attending player – Jari-Andrej Coia being hauled down by his collar – in order to get through another two officers and shake the referee’s hand. The officers’ efforts to restrain the Terns captain died back when they saw who the target of his handshake was, and then redoubled once he attempted to daisy chain into an Elmyia midfielder. Federico went to shout a warning to his increasingly agitated captain, but his voice caught in his throat as he had a sudden thought.
Shit.
Emmanuele. Where was Emmanuele?
Federico spun round on the spot, looking for his volatile and emotional star striker, who already played with one thumb thanks to an ‘accident’ inspired by his previous unintentional run-in with the OO, and then breathed a sigh of relief. Crouching down on his haunches, Emmanuele Niemi was on the edge of the technical area, sharing a look with the similarly still Youssef Nijgaard, ignoring the chaos around him. Once again, Nijgaard’s power as some sort of service animal equivalent for Niemi’s outbursts was proving unmatched.
The chaos, however, didn’t abate with any speed. Blowing his whistle, the referee found himself powerless to stop this intrusion onto the pitch by certified officials. The match was over. The result was in the books. No rules had been broken. But tempers were high, patience was short, and for whatever reason, the Elmyia and Polar Islandstates teams were being kept from each other, even when they had only peaceful intentions. There were raised voices, short sprints, jostling shoulders. Hands, gestures, exclamations.
Eventually, and painfully slowly, the scene started to die down, and as player after player was eventually led down the tunnel, leaving the Elmyia players only to fulfil their media duties on the pitch, the OO officers started to slip back away into the darkness they’d originally emerged from. As if by magic, they melted away. Two officers flanked a still-complaining Ohm past Federico at the opening to the tunnel, and then they were gone. He was alone, save for that one officer that was still watching him quietly. Deciding not to look directly at the sun, Federico turned and followed his players down the tunnel. This was going to have to be quite the team talk.
Leaning against the wall outside the dressing room, catching his thoughts and considering what he might say, Federico’s thoughts and emotional reflection was interrupted by a sudden thought: Alexsandr. All he knew of Aino’s plan was, he had to keep mixing things up, tactically. All would become clear later, apparently, but for now; keep things moving, keep things changing, but keep things related to something you might normally do in any other game. In other words, no playing up to the fact you’re being watched, or guessing what Alexsandr and Aino need from you. And today, he’d completely forgotten. He had gotten so wrapped up in the game, in the idea of chasing Elmyia down, that he’d not even thought about what he was doing. Would he ordinarily take Dementieva off in favour of more attacking options? He struck it from his mind. There would be time to worry about that late, he was sure.
He opened the door, and the familiar smell of stale sweat and aftershave hit him like a wet fish around the face. Only this time, it was accompanied by shouting, swearing, calling of attention, and an edge to the atmosphere that Federico had never felt before. Not after a defeat, not after a win. Not ever.
“Boss, boss, what the hell was that?”
“They called me a fascist, boss.”
“Who the hell were they?!”
“Woh, woh, woh,” said Federico, holding his hands up to interrupt the flow of babbling, “who called you a fascist? When?”
“They did,” pouted Mikkel Makkinen, clearly upset, “the opposition.”
“When, during the match?”
“I guess,” shrugged Makkinen, “I didn’t have an answer. I just sort of, waved my hands at them.”
“Is that why those agents stormed the field?” interjected Niemi from the back of the room.
Federico spun his head around. Niemi and Nijgaard, wiser than the rest of the players to the OO and the standing of the Federation than the other players, apparently, were standing with the other players who played abroad. They looked significantly more jaded, and less frantic than the domestically based players that were circling Federico like a panicked murmuration.
“I’d say so,” agreed Federico, before taking a breath and turning back to the players in front of him, “how many of you guys have been paying attention to the news, recently?”
Some shrugs. Even more blank faces. Federico took a deep breath and wondered how well he’d be able to straddle the fence during this conversation, knowing full well it would be being recorded somehow.
“Okay,” he said, “get changed, try to relax, and cool off. There will be time for a tactical debrief at the hotel later. I think, first, we need to have a little history lesson on the coach home...”
** ** ** ** **
MEMORANDUM
From the Office of the Secretary General's High Council of the Federation
It is with great regret that the True Valhallan Federation's highest Council notes the stated position of the Premier Of Elmyia on the nature of our Government.
The Secretary General's High Council rejects in the strongest terms the accusations of the Elmyia Premier that we operate under a fascist regime. Citizens are happy, the nation is prosperous, the borders are secure, and our standing in Rushmore and beyond is strong. Our citizens are put first within our borders, as is surely right, and our interests - that of a strong, powerful, traditional, family centred, True Valhallan lifestyle - are rightly prioritised. That the great citizens of this nation elected to award our Secretary General a position for life should be seen as a great vote of confidence in a strong and stable leadership, and we abhor this unprecedented assault on our international reputation, and seek appeasement.
It is the position of the True Federation to break off diplomatic relations with any nation who seeks to do harm to our own, and we will not tolerate such a slight.
The Ambassador for Elmyia has been summoned to present a case and explain the actions of their Premier to the Secretary General at the earliest possible convenience, and we are prepared to expel the Elmyia Consulate in it's entirety should we not receive a satisfactory response.
On the subject of our upcoming fixture in the regional Copa Rushmori international football tournament, we will be instructing out agents to prevent any interactions between our own citizens - True Valhallans all - and those who represent a hostile and belligerent, belicose regime, which seeks to destabilise and offend our own administration.
Any citizens who act upon and seek active reconciliation with the people or nation off Elmyia, as set out in the Premier's communication, will be dealt with in the harshest and most ex-communicative fashion.
In the Name of the Secretary General, and his High Council of the Federation.
Aut pax, aut bellum.
MEMORANDUM
From the Office of the Secretary General's High Council of the Federation
It is with great regret that the True Valhallan Federation's highest Council notes the stated position of the Premier Of Elmyia on the nature of our Government.
The Secretary General's High Council rejects in the strongest terms the accusations of the Elmyia Premier that we operate under a fascist regime. Citizens are happy, the nation is prosperous, the borders are secure, and our standing in Rushmore and beyond is strong. Our citizens are put first within our borders, as is surely right, and our interests - that of a strong, powerful, traditional, family centred, True Valhallan lifestyle - are rightly prioritised. That the great citizens of this nation elected to award our Secretary General a position for life should be seen as a great vote of confidence in a strong and stable leadership, and we abhor this unprecedented assault on our international reputation, and seek appeasement.
It is the position of the True Federation to break off diplomatic relations with any nation who seeks to do harm to our own, and we will not tolerate such a slight.
The Ambassador for Elmyia has been summoned to present a case and explain the actions of their Premier to the Secretary General at the earliest possible convenience, and we are prepared to expel the Elmyia Consulate in it's entirety should we not receive a satisfactory response.
On the subject of our upcoming fixture in the regional Copa Rushmori international football tournament, we will be instructing out agents to prevent any interactions between our own citizens - True Valhallans all - and those who represent a hostile and belligerent, belicose regime, which seeks to destabilise and offend our own administration.
Any citizens who act upon and seek active reconciliation with the people or nation off Elmyia, as set out in the Premier's communication, will be dealt with in the harshest and most ex-communicative fashion.
In the Name of the Secretary General, and his High Council of the Federation.
Aut pax, aut bellum.
** ** ** ** **
a)Federico's Conscience - b)Federico's Burden - c)Federico's Ghosts
1.Alexsandr's Speculation - 2.Federico's Watershed - 3.Sebastian's Solitude
Volume Two
Volume One
a)Federico's Conscience - b)Federico's Burden - c)Federico's Ghosts
1.Alexsandr's Speculation - 2.Federico's Watershed - 3.Sebastian's Solitude
Volume Two
Volume One
