“They lost.”
Sven Almsund looked up from his phone. His face was too bewildered for someone who had just had a prime spot to see a quintessential Anewkansan football victory: one goal scored early in the game, then bring out the old cement mixer and build up the double wall.
“Well, of course they did. We scored, they didn’t and…”
“Not them. The Remnant States,” Almsund muttered, as unaware as the average Anewkansan about the right pronunciation of Squornshelous.
That did silence the dressing room. A few weeks earlier, Dom Merrick had taken his unspoken role as veteran to the next level by inviting all players to a watch party for the group draw. The night had ended in a bit more debauchery than the aging central defender had intended but to the manager, he had been able to put it down as team building (which sounded better than the actual furniture deconstruction). Trevor Augustus had bought it, his wife didn’t. But before all the attempts at body slams on the living room table, they had sat through the seemingly endless parade of picking balls out of a cylinder, having a who is who of international football and finding the domestic commentators mangle the names of the various countries. Having the number one of the KPB+ rankings drawn incited a chain reaction. First, there were some boasting ‘oh snaps' and primal cheers. Then bit by bit the realisation sank in that the faith was sealed for group twelve. The Remnant States would gallantly airwalk their way to an undisputed group victory, while our Turtles could hope for nothing more than being involved in the dog fight for the play-off spot. Facing Dhemixia, Alanis Star and United Adaikes as main opponents would be far from a walk in the park, but at least there was a semblance of a chance to add more games to the already long qualification process.
With that mindset, the Turtles had made their way to the Miniona Islands, one of the string of clearly base-10 numbered societies who signed up for this edition. Their passage in the Baptism of Fire lived up to their nation name but that did not mean that Trevor Augustus felt like taking any risks. He knew that his critics were already sharpening their knives and making maps of his back to plunge them into. If they would need to, Augustus preferred that they did it over his style rather than over his results and immediately sacrificed Sevilla for the far less creative (but stronger on his feet) Blake Herrington. Luckily for the national manager, it was Herrington who recovered the ball in midfield after seventeen minutes, launched it onto Pershing Major who found Lemar Philips with his head. The Minionan goalkeeper never stood a chance. That moment of synergy between the two strikers could have been the talking point of the night: whether the two antipodes could perform together had been the talk of the town for weeks now. That was, until Augustus decided to defend the 0-1 for dear life: Philips remained indoors at half-time, Shaffer was pushed on with mortar and bricks on his shoulders.
Did it work? Of course it did. And it did not, at the same time. The slim Anewkansan lead never really got in trouble. The Islanders managed to craft just one real chance, but Pesonen kept it out with a well timed jump to the left bottom corner. Otherwise, the opponents simply found themselves passing the ball left to right thirty meters from the goal line. Two years ago, when making their inaugural appearance, no one would have batted an eye over these sorts of tactics. To the contrary: contemporary manager Archibald Price got chastised for his lack of original Anewkansan values, which apparently included kicking the shins in of the opponents and stacking defenders on top of one another inside the penalty box. But while the international community might not always value the Cup of Harmony triumph, the trophy had given commentators and pundits the confidence to claim that Anewkansas should ‘do more’ against freshfaced opponents (making the ludicrous assumption that the Turtles were no longer freshfaced). And so, the 0-1 away win which was, objectively, a good start to the long campaign got some negative feedback in the press. The team itself did not care for that as much and was mainly focussed on the shocker of the evening, not just in Group 12 but across the world.
“A team of their stature has a margin of error,” McIntyre stated to end the anxious silence.
“They have,” Merrick admitted, “for one error.”
It encapsulated the collective thoughts. One error. Yes, the press probably is coming down on Dudu Madeiros, some of the more high-profile Black-and-Reds will have some explaining to do in the interviews but if you get the train rolling afterwards, it will be considered just as a little bend in the road, nothing more. A cautionary tale, at times, but mainly a fun fact for pub quizzing. What unranked team stunned the KPB+ number one…? What was it again, something something Liberals?
To be clear, a few days later, every single one of the Turtles knew the name of the Baman and Juket Liberationists quite well. In their own Fallstaff Stadium, Trevor Augustus seemed on his way for two out of two. The recipe was quite clear: minute 16, long cross to Pershing Major who distracts the whole defensive line with his presence, a header that ends up loose in the box and Lemar Philips who pounces upon it. After that, you seal off the pitch with all you’ve got and you wait for the final whistle. Clinical. Easy. Until it isn’t. In minute 74, the Liberationists released themselves with three, four perfect one-touch passes through the heart of our defensive line. Gaziewski, splendid so far, mistakenly sets up the offside trap and one opponent can get through on goal to score the equalizer. The audience suddenly stumbles back to life. It could have gone both ways. They might have turned against the team, criticising Augustus’ decision to lean back. But they were so shocked by the hold-up from the Liberationists that they got behind the team. The winner was not pretty but did mark the first international goal for Doherty, who dribbled past his man before kicking the ball through a forest of legs. The double ricochet froze up the goalkeeper and saved the Turtles, our cautionary tale at least had a happy ending.
“It’s just a game like the other fifteen, for three points,” Trevor Augustus declared of the next encounter.
It’s a lie and he knows it as well as the next one. If logic prevails, the Turtles try to hold back the Black-and-Red in the Pheldagriff Stadium, manage to only do so for less than ninety minutes and travel back home without points after having shared platitudes with the press.
“It’s not in this game we need to earn the play-off spot.”
“We fought well enough and it is a performance and team spirit we can take along to the upcoming fixtures.”
“It was a good test for the younger players.”
The press already has it scripted in draft. Just push the ‘publish’ button. Unless…
“A team of their stature has a margin of error,” McIntyre stated to end the anxious silence.
“They have,” Merrick admitted, “for one error.”
A few players nodded along but for those in the back, Merrick felt obliged to elaborate.
“Everyone can make one error in a long campaign. But make two of them, in a row, and you start to stutter. To second guess. To rotate where things need stability, to cling on to things that require flexibility. There is only one chance, one in a million, to push the SRS into the pit of doubt in this campaign. It’s a ball from far out, there’s a ton of defenders still in the way and the goalkeeper has his eye on us. But it’s a chance, nonetheless, to kick this group wide open. And it’s given to us.”
TUESDAY 28TH OCTOBER, 2025
