World Cup 48 - Bazalonia/Cafundéu - the RP thread

[Bazalonia]

Cafundeu Region Semi-Finals: Link

[Dancougar]

Dancougar News!!
Wait, He-Man, that's not Castle Greyskull! It's Heldscalla!!

Holy Empire set up World Cup 45 rematch in shootout: It was moments like this which conjured up flashbacks of Yuji Watanabe.

Kensaku Nakama did not match that image.

Ug-Ug connected on the fifth and final penalty attempted by the Holy Empire, giving them a 5-4 shootout victory over Dancougar in the World Cup semifinals. In a matchup that looked essentially even on paper, the teams delivered, contesting a fast-paced yet scoreless ninety minutes before each added a goal in extra time. And if that wasn't enough drama, the penalty shootout tore down even the steeliest nerves as Darren Letson's missed third penalty proved to be the only thing separating the teams.

"It hurts," said Letson, whose debut tournament will not end with a trip in the final after his shot dinged the crossbar. "I thought I had a good plant, I thought I had good power, and it beat the 'keeper. But it didn't stay down. So that's it."

"You can't blame one player for a defeat like this," said Shigeru Takeuchi, who reached the semifinals for the second time in four tournaments. "They just had a little more at the end, and it's always difficult to counter a team as strong-willed as they are."

Strength, will, and all the superlatives were on full display in Woolgolga, where support was strong for both sides. But the neutrals were weighed heavily in favor of the Holy Empire. The Wings were still getting it for defeating Bazalonia in the knockouts, and for every Horrible Hand Towel spotted in the crowd, there were at least two Ug-Ug know not how to lose T-shirts. But on this stage, the Wings remained calm but once again played conservatively. Takeuchi stuck with the 3-5-2, though, which gave Jorge Botaniates more to do than his Vanorian counterpart from the previous match. Ivan Marchak burst through in the 11th minute and hit a shot straight into Botaniates, which proved that the Wings would be attacking more in this game if nothing else.

Still, neither team found the net in the first half, nor in the second, with six saves to Botaniates and eight to Nakama. Of all the chances generated in the game, Philotheus Coccino's diving header in the 64th was the best. Arsenius Autoreianuso lifted a cross into the box after a long run down the side, and Paul Barclay committed an uncharacteristic mistake by losing track of Coccino. Instead of trying to play the ball wide, he let it fall behind him, where Coccino was unlucky to direct his shot into the side netting. Nakama was caught scrambling across to cover the play and would not have made the save.

"Overall, I think the defensive play by both sides was solid," said Takeuchi. "There were a few moments here and there where you thought someone might break through, but what you saw out there was that forwards weren't finding much space, getting little time on the ball."

With the match headed into extra time, the question was when fatigue would set in. This was more of an issue for the Black Wings, who seemed to sink farther back as the match dragged on. The Empire went for the kill but could not find the target, setting the stage for a dramatic final ten minutes. With all three substitutions used up, Takeuchi was clearly playing for penalties. But Kent Montego had other ideas. The Dancougar skipper received a square ball 25 yards out and sent a hopeful ball towards the far post. Tsutomu Asahina out-muscled John Camatero in the air and snapped it down past the befuddled Botaniates to make it 1-0 in the 112th minute.

"At the time? Yeah, I'd say it was a huge relief to get that goal, we we figured the game was ours to lose," said Montego.

But as anyone in that stadium could have told him, Ug-Ug knows not how to lose.

The Wings pulled everybody back to defend down the stretch, and for a moment, it looked like Simeone di Bradini was ready to run onto the pitch. But Juan Tzimisces calmly watched the match unfold from the touchline. He knew his team had everything it needed to recover from this minor setback. Sure enough, there was Ug-Ug to blast home a free kick in the 118th minute to tie the game at 1-1. The placement was perfect - straight through the wall - and Nakama could feel the wind of the ball as it streamed into the goal.

From there, it was penalties, and the only player to miss was Letson, who beat Botaniates but not the frame of the goal. With the score level at 4-4, Ug-Ug stepped up to the spot for the decisive kick. It was either victory or sudden death. For a man who defines adversity, this was easy - another cannon blast past Nakama. It was onto the final in Cafundeu, where Candelaria and Marquez eagerly awaited a rematch of World Cup 45. For the Wings, it's back to Fauxham to tackle Sarzonia in the third-place match.

"The championship is always the goal, so of course we are disappointed by the result," said Takeuchi. "We'll refocus on the match with Sarzonia so we can try and take something away from this tournament."

[Sarzonia]

Sarzonia made an effort to take advantage of its pace and skill against a Candelaria And Marquez side that was beginning to show some age on part of its backline.

For the first 60 minutes of the match, it worked. Forwards Matt Lynch and Zack Wilson both found the range past goalkeeper Harry Rosalia, in the 24th and 60th minutes respectively. The Stars were making the Big Blues look like the Old and Tired Blues with their dominant play.

The 210,001-strong crowd at Estádio Rei Albieri Van Tocco in Cafundó do Juta must have sensed the potential for an upset. What started out as fairly mixed support had become full-throated Sarzonia support from all in attendance who weren't passport-carrying citizens of Candelaria And Marquez. Even those who began the night supporting Candelaria And Marquez by default had switched allegiances to the plucky Stars.

Then in the 60th minute, manager Franz Braddock subbed in Tim Rodney for a tiring Carletta Ryan. Even though Ryan was extremely physical for her height, Braddock figured fresh legs would help preserve that 2-0 advantage.

He figured wrong. Candelaria And Marquez seemed suddenly energised by Braddock's substitution and put two goals past Cody Taylor, one in the 65th minute, the other in the 82nd minute, turning what had appeared to be another shock result into 30 additional minutes of football.

That was when the Stars limited depth began to betray itself. Sarzonia may have found a way to prevail in penalties against Jeru FC just six matches after defeating world No. 1 Starblaydia in penalties in the Mike Sarzo Memorial Trophy final, but the team finally began to show its fatigue. In the 119th minute of play, that fatigue resulted in a goal after a Ben Davis defensive breakdown he said afterwards would not have happened in the 19th minute of a regular match.

Even though Taylor quickly fished out the ball and rocketed it toward the centre circle for a quick kickoff, the Stars could not create enough pressure to force penalties in enough time. Braddock protested in vain that the referee's whistle sounded much too early.

"We were supposed to have three minutes of stoppage time. We didn't get any stoppage time," Braddock seethed.

It was no matter. Sarzonia would have to board a flight for a short trip to Bazalonia. They would face Dancougar in the third place playoff match.

"We didn't get where we wanted," a red eyed Lynch said after the match, speaking in sombre, hushed tones. "I don't even want to talk about the future right now."

Lynch may have been unwilling to discuss the future, but that future certainly looks bright for Sarzonia, according to goalkeeper coach Horace Sandt, the lone holdover from Sarzonia's glory teams.

"We've made enormous strides," he said. "When we have a chance to look back on this journey, we'll be able to do so with a great deal of pride."

It certainly hurts now. But for Sarzonia, it hadn't hurt so good in a long time.

Note: Victories are noted in bolded navy blue; draws denoted in bold; losses denoted in bolded red.
MSMT Kickoff Classic: W, 1:0 v. Taeshan (Mike Sarzo Stadium, Nicksia, Benatar, Sarzonia, 77,910 capacity)
MSMT First Round: W, 1:0 v. Achtervolging (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
The Friendly War: D, 0:0 @ Isselmere-Nieland (Arcadia Grounds, Daurmont)
MD1: W, 3:1 v. EvilDarkMagicians (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD2: W, 1:2 @ Howling Scanias
MD3: L, 3:2 @ Secristan (Monopoly Stadium, Amherst)
MD4: W, 3:4 @ Queer Poco El Mono Ara
MD5: W, 2:0 v. Antarcticstan (The Iron Bowl, Portland, Somerset, Sarzonia, 46,220 capacity)
MD6: W, 0:3 @ The Islands of Qutar
MD7: D, 0:0 @ The Holy Empire
MSMT Semifinals: W, 1:2 v. Krytenia (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MidQ: D, 1:1 @ Newmanistan (Tundra Falls Proving Grounds)
MD8: W, 0:2 @ EvilDarkMagicians
MD9: W, 2:0 v. Howling Scanias (The Iron Bowl, Portland)
MD10: D, 1:1 v. Secristan (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD11: W, 3:0 v. Queer Poco El Mono Ara (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD12: W, 0:3 @ Antarticstan
MD13: W, 1:0 v. The Islands of Qutar (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD14: L, 2:3 v. The Holy Empire (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MSMT Finals W, 0:0 (0:0 AET; 3:4 PK) v. Starblaydia (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
Post-Q: D, 2:2 @ Bears Armed Mainland
WCQ1: W, 3:1 v. Silexhera (Presídio, Carandirú City, Central State, Cafundéu, 77,500 capacity)
WCQ2: D, 0:0 v. Jeruselem (Tocado Tatu, Cidade Central, Central State, Cafundéu, 118,000 capacity)
WCQ3: W, 1:0 v. Starblaydia (Olímpico Imperial, Lux, Central State, Cafundéu, 80,000 capacity)
Round of 16: W, 0:1 v. Kelssek (Presídio)
Quarterfinals: W, 1:1 (1:1 AET; 3:5 PK) v. Jeru FC (Arena América, Abadia, Old Cities State, 120,000 capacity)
Semifinals: 2:2 (2:3 AET) v. Candelaria And Marquez
(Estádio Rei Albieri Van Tocco, Cafundó do Juta, 210,001 capacity)
Third Place Playoff: v. Dancougar (TeleBaz Stadium, Fauxhan, Bazalonia, 110,000 capacity)
Post-World Cup/Cup of Harmony: v. New Montreal States (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
Post-World Cup/Cup of Harmony: v. Delaclava (Mike Sarzo Stadium)

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

"Daddy, Daddy, tell me another story!!!!!"

"But it's bed time, lass...."

"Just one more.... pulllleaase!!!!!"

"OK then, just one more... which one do you want to hear?"

"The one about World Cup 48!!!!"

"Which one about World Cup 48? There's a lot of stories about that one! And I assume you mean the one in the reality where we don't win every single time..."

"Of course that's the one I mean. Silly Daddy! Go on... 'it was a time of legends...'"

"Oh, you want that one..."


It was a time of legends

There are of course those in Ordinary Reality who say that legends aren't real, or that the time of legends has passed into some far-off golden age, that you have as much chance of seeing a legend as catching a bazalope.

But we know they're wrong, don't we?

There are those who say there never have been any footballing sentient zucchinis, ursines, eggs or bipedal apes.

But they're wrong.

There are those who claim that Rami Niblick and Jeremy Jaffacake are figments of the imagination, dreams within dreams of long-dead broadcasters whose ghosts attempt to linger on through a rivalry that should have long since been allowed to follow their creators into the grave.

But they're wrong.

And then there are those who say that Dazza Dallas is a legend of promiscuous whoredom designed to frighten God-fearing Orthodox monks in their sleep.

But they're wrong too - at least about the legend part.

And most importantly to every little boy and girl here in the Holy Empire - and to some in Starblaydia - there are those who say that Simeone Di Bradini is dead.

That Juan Tzimisces never existed.

That neolithic cavemen can't play football.

But we know they're wrong, don't we? Because what do they know of Legends, who only legends know?

What could be greater legends, after all, than the Holy Empire's World Cup 48 squad? A squad that had fought for their nation against The Enemy to a man. A squad that had struggled through The Event and lived to tell the tale... What was a mere football tournament to men like these?

Do you remember? Do you remember how the Shadow Warriors cast out the TickTockmen into the mechanidesert, and yet all but one survived to tell the tale?

Do you remember the stories of the field of blood, when the rivers themselves ran red, and the very trees and flowers groaned with pain, the sound of their agony turning the tide against the gathering wave, as the white blood cells multiplied uncontrollably, and threatened the very fabric of reality itself?

Do you remember the dread tales of what the reality cannon wrought at the Black Gate, and how the molten strands of 500 lost realities flowed into the nightmare beyond?

Do you remember the price John Camatero paid to build the Wall of Fire, and how at last it kept the icelings at bay when it seemed that nothing could escape their cold, cold touch?

Do you remember how Coccino wielded the blue sword, how it possessed him for forty days and forty nights, how his spirit flamed blue, and how all the weirdlings and void things, how even The Enemy himself, were kept at bay by that immutable, invulnerable blade that no dream wizard could harm?

Do you remember the Armaghetto, where vat ghouls uncountable were prepared to replace us, to take our place as unthinking minions of The Enemy, how he only succeeded in replacing us in World Cups 46 and 47, and how one single vat ghoul alone came over to fight on our side?

Do you remember the arachnamen on the Night of Tears, and how every town and village they attacked - but one - was overrun, and how the great heart who alone survived now says he knows not how to lose?

Do you remember the Longest Night, and how everything seemed to warp and turn, how the most improbable was made flesh, and how one man's eyes turned to black coals through all the impossibilities he saw?

Do you remember the men at the Horn of Stone, after the Horn of Brass and the True Horn of Horn had been overrun by the forces of The Enemy, and how one man's stirring speech inspired the survivors to hold their ground until the skies rained with fire and they were saved?

Do you remember the death of the Third Sun, how the Assassins killed a sentient ball of fire to save all realities from the suicide suns?

Do you remember when the Red Moon fell, and the Jade Cannon opened fire, when the scatterflares broke the plain of glass, and the wave of stone broke over the shimmerstar trench?

All these legends too are true.

Thus so a World Cup where Valanora, Sorthern Northland, and Qazox all fell to the men who had seen so much, survived the impossible, lived the dream in a sense more real than the mundies can imagine.

Then too the semi-final against Dancougar, when all seemed lost when Asahina scored - only for one man who knew not how to lose turn things around, again, through sheer force of will alone.

Which left only the final against Candelaria and Marquez....




"I think she's asleep - you can stop reading now."

"I know, but she really likes that story. Do you think I should tuck in her stuffed Ug-Ug?"

"Oh, go on then... Ug-Ug's always been her favourite... Incidentally, what did happen in the World Cup 48 final? How did they do after achieving so much? Did they win after all, or did they fall at the final hurdle - it would seem so sad if they did."

"It's late, and it's a long story... Boy is it a long story... I'll tell you tomorrow..."

[Bazalonia]

Scores for the 3PPO in TeleBaz Stadium, Fauxhan

[Sarzonia]

The long journey for Sarzonia's football heroes lasted 28 matches. Besides the 14 qualifying matches, three group stage matches and four knockout stage matches that ended with Sarzonia losing 0:3 to Dancougar in the third place playoff at TeleBaz Stadium in Fauxhan, the Stars also played seven friendlies.

All those matches caught up with the Stars against the sixth ranked Black Wings. Manager Franz Braddock started all of his depth players, including goalkeeper Kelvin Russell, in an effort to rest as many of the starting 11 as possible. Even forward Matt Lynch, the only Star who didn't leave the pitch for even a minute, got 72 minutes off.

"We still went out there with the idea of bringing home something," Braddock said. "That said, we are a very tired football team. Even the depth players have been through the ringer."

The Stars won't even stop playing with the conclusion of the third place playoff. Once the Cup of Harmony finishes, Sarzonia has friendly matches with New Montreal States and relative football newcomers Delaclava.

"That's the IFF's decision," said assistant manager Ganz Ijak. "I would have preferred the rest, but we have to play the matches, so we will."

"It will become part of our evaluation process," Braddock said. "We'll find out where we are as a team once we've had some time to rest."

Braddock said he was leaning "rather heavily" toward increasing the Stars squad to "at least" 24 players for World Cup 49. He added that he would "definitely" return for World Cup 49.

"We just got a taste of the promised land," he said. "We advanced farther here than I did with Cafundéu." He didn't have to add that he performed that task in Cafundéu, with Cafundelense media watching him guide his 24th ranked Stars to within two matches of the sport's ultimate prize. In so doing, Braddock put to rest many of the criticisms that he was out of touch with today's football.

"People are still saying that?" Lynch asked with a look of incredulity crossing his face. "Let's let the results speak for themselves."

Fourth place may not be good enough for a populace used to the previous success of Sarzonia's national team. But those who walked in aware that rebuilding a team from scratch was a process, fourth place after five World Cup qualifying campaigns was more than adequate.

Now, players are talking openly about Braddock being the manager to lead the Stars to their next World Cup championship.

"We had fanciful notions of winning our next World Cup by World Cup 50," said former Incorporated Football Federation Chairman and two-time national team manager Dave Wilson. "All of a sudden, those notions may not be so fanciful after all."

Note: Victories are noted in bolded navy blue; draws denoted in bold; losses denoted in bolded red.
MSMT Kickoff Classic: W, 1:0 v. Taeshan (Mike Sarzo Stadium, Nicksia, Benatar, Sarzonia, 77,910 capacity)
MSMT First Round: W, 1:0 v. Achtervolging (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
The Friendly War: D, 0:0 @ Isselmere-Nieland (Arcadia Grounds, Daurmont)
MD1: W, 3:1 v. EvilDarkMagicians (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD2: W, 1:2 @ Howling Scanias
MD3: L, 3:2 @ Secristan (Monopoly Stadium, Amherst)
MD4: W, 3:4 @ Queer Poco El Mono Ara
MD5: W, 2:0 v. Antarcticstan (The Iron Bowl, Portland, Somerset, Sarzonia, 46,220 capacity)
MD6: W, 0:3 @ The Islands of Qutar
MD7: D, 0:0 @ The Holy Empire
MSMT Semifinals: W, 1:2 v. Krytenia (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MidQ: D, 1:1 @ Newmanistan (Tundra Falls Proving Grounds)
MD8: W, 0:2 @ EvilDarkMagicians
MD9: W, 2:0 v. Howling Scanias (The Iron Bowl, Portland)
MD10: D, 1:1 v. Secristan (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD11: W, 3:0 v. Queer Poco El Mono Ara (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD12: W, 0:3 @ Antarticstan
MD13: W, 1:0 v. The Islands of Qutar (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MD14: L, 2:3 v. The Holy Empire (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
MSMT Finals W, 0:0 (0:0 AET; 3:4 PK) v. Starblaydia (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
Post-Q: D, 2:2 @ Bears Armed Mainland
WCQ1: W, 3:1 v. Silexhera (Presídio, Carandirú City, Central State, Cafundéu, 77,500 capacity)
WCQ2: D, 0:0 v. Jeruselem (Tocado Tatu, Cidade Central, Central State, Cafundéu, 118,000 capacity)
WCQ3: W, 1:0 v. Starblaydia (Olímpico Imperial, Lux, Central State, Cafundéu, 80,000 capacity)
Round of 16: W, 0:1 v. Kelssek (Presídio)
Quarterfinals: W, 1:1 (1:1 AET; 3:5 PK) v. Jeru FC (Arena América, Abadia, Old Cities State, 120,000 capacity)
Semifinals: 2:2 (2:3 AET) v. Candelaria And Marquez
(Estádio Rei Albieri Van Tocco, Cafundó do Juta, 210,001 capacity)
Third Place Playoff: 0:3 v. Dancougar (TeleBaz Stadium, Fauxhan, Bazalonia, 110,000 capacity)
Post-World Cup/Cup of Harmony: v. New Montreal States (Mike Sarzo Stadium)
Post-World Cup/Cup of Harmony: v. Delaclava (Mike Sarzo Stadium)

[Dancougar]

Dancougar News!!
I want Shin Great Mazinger, like, NOW.

Bronze will do; Wings finish strong in Fauxham: With most of Sarzonia's best players enjoying some well-earned rest after a brutal schedule, Shigeru Takeuchi went for the kill. The Stars put up heroic resistance throughout the first half but eventually succumbed to his Black Wings 3-0.

It was likely the final international for several of Dancougar's players, most notably captain Kent Montego, who turned 33 earlier this year. Although he wasn't able to go out on the tournament's grandest stage, he still left his mark on the game by scoring his 29th career international goal in the 61st minute, good for fifth all-time. He was substituted minutes later to loud applause from the Dancougar fans in attendance, who recognized him for a career that now includes two top-three finishes in football's biggest event.

"Naturally I would have preferred the final," said Montego. "But there is definitely some promise on this roster, and who knows who's waiting back home for the next one. This was supposed to be a team that was over the hill and, to a degree, we proved them wrong."

John Schiermeier and Ivan Marchak were the other goal-scorers, with Schiermeier breaking the deadlock in the 40th minute with a snap header and Marchak sealing the victory in the 66th with a rising shot which Kelvin Russell could only swipe at after his momentum carried him beyond the play. They were among the seven regulars played by Takeuchi who was clearly looking for a strong result to finish the tournament.

"It's not first, and we aim to be first," he said. "I know [Franz Braddock] feels the same way. That said, we know that the real task is in four years - getting back to the semifinals and taking it to the next level."

So ends the long campaign, which included 26 matches spread among qualifiers, friendlies, and the finals. Dancougar went 19-4-3 in those matches, scoring 74 goals against 19 ceded. The leading scorer was 30-year-old Ivan Marchak, who had thirteen goals in all competition, including a team-high four in the final tournament.

Match Results
FRD: Dancougar 3 x 1 Somewhereistonia
FRD: Dancougar 3 x 3 Newmanistan
QMD1: Iglesian Archipelago 1 x 1 Dancougar
QMD2: Dancougar 8 x 0 Kolussa
QMD3: Dancougar 4 x 1 Jeru FC
QMD4: Dariusville 1 x 4 Dancougar
QMD5: Dancougar 4 x 0 Godmodador
QMD6: Dancougar 3 x 1 Swartaz
QMD7: Molested Sock 0 x 4 Dancougar
FRD: Taeshan 2 x 1 Dancougar
QMD8: Dancougar 6 x 1 Iglesian Archipelago
QMD9: Kolussa 1 x 2 Dancougar
QMD10: Jeru FC 0 x 1 Dancougar
QMD11: Dancougar 1 x 1 Dariusville
QMD12: Godmodador 0 x 1 Dancougar
QMD13: Swartaz 2 x 2 Dancougar
QMD14: Dancougar 5 x 0 Molested Sock
FRD: Bears Armed 0 x 1 Dancougar
FRD: Arroza 1 x 6 Dancougar
WCMD1: Dancougar 1 x 0 Jasiyun
WCMD2: Dancougar 3 x 1 Akbarabad
WCMD3: Kosovoe 1 x 0 Dancougar
WCMD4: Dancougar 4 x 0 Bazalonia
WCMD5: Dancougar 2 x 0 Valanora
WCMD6: Holy Empire 0 x 0 (1 x 1 AET, 5 x 4 PK) Dancougar
WCMD7: Dancougar 3 x 0 Sarzonia

Goal Scorers

Player		WC	WCQ	FRD	ALL
Marchak		 4	  8	  1	 13
Asahina		 3 	  5	  0	  8
Montego		 2  	  6	  1	  9
Takada		 2 	  4	  0	  6
Schiermeier	 1 	  3	  0	  4
Honjo		 1 	  2	  2	  5
Letson		 1 	  2	  0	  3
Kuniyoshi	 0 	  5	  5	 10
Isachsen	 0 	  3	  1	  4
McFarland	 0 	  2	  0	  2
Sugawara	 0 	  1	  2	  3
Soma		 0 	  1	  1	  2
Barclay		 0 	  1	  0	  1
Brodell		 0 	  1	  0	  1
Chrysler	 0 	  1	  0	  1
Nemoto		 0 	  1	  0	  1
Ledain           0 	  0       1       1

[Jeruselem]

Jay: Good morning Mum ...
Mum: How was the wedding party?
Jay: Good, it was pretty interesting. Ducky and Nikki seem a good couple.
Mum: Pretty lively?

Jay: Well if Brian Carson and those Jeru FC idiots turn up to pick up Jeruselem world cup chicks, yes.
Mum: Pretty big party then.
Jay: Yes, even the Dallas girls turned up. Dazza wanted to come but she's not very mobile these days and can't party like she used to. She is over 80.
Mum: Did Joe turn up?

Jay: Well yes. He said he lost his two coaching jobs but picked up another one on some other place.
Mum: I noticed he's being taking taxis recently.
Jay: He said he needed money so he sold his house and car.
Mum: He's always running out of money.

Jay: He'd have money if he didn't behave like a moron.
Mum: Any strippers?
Jay: We don't need to hire strippers. The girls on the team are perfectly capable.
Mum: Was that Merginn there?

Jay: Well yes, he was running the bar. It was a Dallas nightclub after all.
Mum: You pick any girls up?
Jay: Yeah, why? I probably had too much to drink myself.
Juzzie: Hello, good morning!

Mum: You picked up Dopey's little girl.
Jay: It was more the other way round.
Juzzie: Hello Mrs Hamburg. We had a great time at the party.
Mum: Not bad, you got a Dallas.

Jay: I dunno I could have picked up anyone really.
Juzzie: Where's your Dad?
Jay: I don't know who it is. Ask Mum.
Mum: Err, I don't know either.

Juzzie: I have to say, you like a bit like Joe at times.
Mum: Well, I can't discount that. Joe got me drunk a few times.
Jay: God ... I hope he's not my father.
Juzzie: Don't worry, we're used to not worrying about who Dad is.

[Candelaria And Marquez]

World Cup Semi-Final in Cafundó do Juta as it happened

LIVE TEXT COMMENTARY (all times WRT)

By Eric Preston

_______________________________________________________________

2234: “Hello? Anyone? Honestly, I really think someone should check and see if he’s alright…”
Aisha via text

2193: Y’know, I almost don’t want to go home now, it’s been one of those nights… But there’s dressage on TV4, so… Laters!

2187: FULL-TIME AFTER EXTRA TIME Sarzonia 2-3 Candelaria And Marquez
Speechless, frankly. Somewhat improbable lack of stoppage time from Melchett there, that won’t be the last time we hear about that I’m quite sure… But by the skin of their teeth, the Blues have a joyfully undeserved place in the World Cup final!

Nicole Lewis, Marcus Patinkin, Dave Wilson, Jay Tyler, Grant Haffner, Mike Sarzo, can you hear me Mi… alright, bad example, but your boys… and girls… took one hell of a…

Arright, again, that’s not going to work… God, I’ve witnessed some fortunate Candelariasian victories in my time, but that honestly takes things up to a whole other level. Injuries a-plenty to deal with now, but Le Lan’s side haven’t lost for more than two years and, frankly, the Holy Empire? Who’re they?

2184: GOAL Sarzonia 2-3 Candelaria And Marquez
OH MY JESUS IN GOD IN BLOODY CHRISTING GOD, ARISE SIR DANIEL OF BOVE, SON OF ADAM! Endekov to Pappas, Pappas to Amey, Adams on the edge of the area, where the hell was Ben Davis and who in their right minds gives a bloody sausage? Simply incredible stuff, that has to be our winner. Has to be…

2183: Jaysus… Lynch curls a shot just over the bar, and seconds later C&M are up the other end with Pappas tripped on the edge of the box… Clash of shoulders, really, but even Le Lan’s up on his feet demanding a free-kick. Put it behind you, guys, we’ve got barely ninety seconds plus injury time on the clock by my reckoning.

2180: Macanás on target, easily scooped up by Taylor, and the whiff of desperation is becoming a stench. Predictions on the order of the penalty takers, if you please?

2177: Bocanegro – off.
Well, not strictly speaking, but he’s had a good sixty seconds of treatment and it’s perfectly clear now that he’s walking wounded and wouldn’t be here at all if Braddock hadn’t used up all his subs… So that’s Sarzonia’s main creative threat nullified, and we have to carve out some chances now, surely?

2174: Alright, granted we went on to Kura-Pelland on pens all of two years ago, but… shut up.

2173: “Eric, you do know what our record in shoot-outs is like, don’t you?”
Rhys via text

Four shoot-outs in competitive matches, four failures. I am a professional, Rhys. But honestly, what does our record from the Baptism of Fire or Cup of Harmony 28 have to do with the price of fish? Different players, a different time, and Cody Taylor is there for the taking if you ask me.

2169: HALF-TIME IN EXTRA TIME Sarzonia 2-2 Candelaria And Marquez
Hold tight for those penalties, then, this one’s going nowhere fast…

2168: You’re not missing much at this point. Sarzonia are still having plenty of possession against an Avola-less C&M, the Blues look much the more dangerous, but the wingers just can’t quite manage the kind of deliveries that McKenzie and Randjelovic routinely put in and, for now, the Sarzonian full-backs are holding pretty firm.

2165: “I’m not sure, Eric.”
Dave via text

Cheers for that, Dave. You’ve got us on your family & friends, haven’t you?

2163: Two more top chances, one for Lynch the other for Pappas… Otherwise, the game’s slowed to walking pace – apart, of course, for our two fresh new wide men. So why the hell is Endekov still trying to find Macanás!?

2160: Ha! A bit of ball juggling from Pappas – nice to see he’s never going to grow up, I suppose, but shall we just call for pens now and have done with it?

2155: Oh lordy, don’t tell me I’ve spoken too soon… Underway again here and Wilson’s already had two good chances, Davies clearing desperately… We’ve got to get the ball up to Amey, Pappas and Oliveira Tavares and let them run with it, there’s simply no other option. Centre of the midfield? What centre of the midfield? S’all about the flanks these days, maties, haven’t you heard?

2149: FULL-TIME IN NIGHTY MINUTES Sarzonia 2-2 Candelaria And Marquez
God, and again almost… Okay, we’re officially on the up, thirty minutes to go, no changes left for either side, some seriously weary faces out there – and that’s just the crowd – but the vigour is ours, kids…

2146: Christ, Adams has just gone close again… And it’s all C&M as we approach injury time, where the hell did this come from? Utterly unplannable, but our three late subs are tearing an exhausted Sarzonia apart now. Jejejejejej indeed…

2144: “JEJEJEJEJEJEJEJEJEJEJEJ!!!!!!!! LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASFTT!!!!”
Jésus via text

Yes. I suppose that counts as a ‘thought’.

2142: Sooo… Le Lan’s a genius, then? Or just bloody lucky? Thoughts?

2139: GOAL Sarzonia 2-2 Candelaria And Marquez
Oh God I LOVE YOU, freaky village of Calamocha! I don’t care what they put in your water supply, but THAT’S. JUST. AWESOME.

Oliveira Tavares screaming down the flank, Davis can’t do a thing about it, crossfield ball for Pappas, pulls it back for Gabriel Macanás, and that, my friends, is just about the most wonderfully perfect equaliser you’ve ever seen an… No wait, you can’t see it, otherwise you’d be watching instead of relying on the text feed. Never mind. Amazing.

2138: “On the plus side, I’ve never actually been to Bazalonia.”
TV1 Sport’s Michael Andrews in Cafundó do Juta

You’re a git, you know that?

2137: Ah, that’s the plan, then. Endekov up to Macanás, Macanás loses a header to Davis, Davis clears comfortably… This would appear to be the Plan for the final ten. Hoofing it never hurt anyone, I’ll grant you, but it’s not going to hurt Sarzonia either…

2135: Sitting on his hands, Jamie? Perish the thought! Here comes the cavalry: Marquezians to the rescue. Pappas on for McKenzie, MOT for Randjelovic – who I’ve barely noticed playing this half, he’s been so anonymous… And, here’s the big one – Avola off, Macanás on, it’s… 4-4-2? 4-3-3? God knows.

2134: Are we actually going to be able to put a team out for the third-place play-off at this rate? McKenzie pulling up right next to Le Lan’s area, and that’s probably our best player of the game down and out. Fudge.

2132: “Seventy-five minutes in and still no substitutions? This is just Le Lan at his most infuriating – if he sets up a team and it goes his way everything’s hunky-dory, otherwise he just sits there on his hands looking small and lets Rául Vélez flap around the touchline looking busy. We ned action!”
Jamie via text

Not sure who this Ned fella is, but I can’t disagree. We’re definitely having more possession, but we’re creating zip and still look so fragile on the counter. I reckon he’s change half the back four if he could – Meesschaert’s just been made a proper mug by Lynch again, with Harry holding comfortably in the end, but… ergh. I’m not used to this anymore, I don’t know how I’m supposed to react! Blast and damn and piggies, this isn’t a happy evening!

2130: Or… maybe not. Wilson flashes a shot just wide, and Sarzonia look like they’ve recovered from that little set-back already. C&M still being forced back into their own box, and we’re desperately in need of a bit of magic here.

2124: Hmm… It’s a funny thing, but I can’t seem to hear those ‘Are you Nethertopia in disguise’ chants any more. Completely against the run of play, you have to say, but one wonders if that comes as a direct result of Rodney’s introduction. Braddock, it would appear, is on the verge of really messing this one up…

2122: GOAL Sarzonia 2-1 Candelaria And Marquez
Hell-o! McKenzie sweeps down the right, unleashed a low cross that newcomer Tim Rodney simply can’t cut out, it falls to Amey, change of pace past Maxwell, Crosley clears as far as Danny Adams on the edge of the box… And we’re back in this, y’know!

2121: So not, all things considered, the night we’d been hoping for – but is anyone going to argue it wasn’t deserved? Vavasour’s played well in patches but he’s barely been given a touch by Maxwell and the since sub’d Ryan all night, and we’ve basically been treated to a Sarzonian masterclass. Can’t be any complaints, right? Poor and jammy against Krytenia, poor and comfortably crushed by Sarzonia – we’ve had a result like this coming for a fortnight and… hell-o…

2119: “Shock’s the word here, from the blue and green corner of the stadium, but my word these Sarzonians make a hell of a lot of noise, don’t they? It’s almost like they’re about to go to their first World Cup final for twenty-four cycles…”
TV1 Sport’s Michael Andrews in Cafundó do Juta

2116: GOAL Sarzonia 2-0 Candelaria And Marquez
And that, ladies and gentlemen, would appear to be that. And you have to admit, that was a truly superb effort, one which – this time – Rosalia simply can’t be held responsible for, Morrison reacting cleverly to Endekovs’ misplaced pass to Avola, teeing up Zach Wilson thirty yards out… and that is an absolute bloody screamer. They’ll be dancin’ in the strits o’ Woodstock toneet.

2111: “Look, seriously, I don’t want to go on about this, but don’t you think that somebody ought to check he’s alright? You must have people in Aeropag still, surely? Please?”
Aisha via text

Look, we’re one-nil down, it’s the bleedin’ World Cup semi-final… let’s just concentrate in the matter at hand, for heaven’s sake!

<Older Entries>

***

The cabinet office erupted. The Secretary of State for Transport and the Minister for Citizenship & Immigration – one a Tory, the other a high-ranking Modern Liberal, and President Morton knew there was utterly no love lost between the pair – collapsed into a hugging, screaming mess at her feet. Parkinson Tanter, the Finance Minister, had clambered on top of the long table and was performing an impromptu jig, while Nobby McShefferty, the Secretary of State for Social Affairs and leader (and sole MP, come to that) of the Justice & Democracy Party was standing on his own near the far window, clenching his fists and shouting “Yes! YES!!” at random intervals.

Ministers she barely knew she had – ‘Social Equality’? Seriously? – had somehow found an entirely legitimate excuse to sneak into the room prior to the start of extra time, the presence of the vast telly covering almost the entirety of one wall being entirely coincidental. Even the girls were beside themselves, though their own cheering had quickly given way to earnest conversations on Le Lan’s team selection for the final. Morton didn’t want to know that her Minister for Fishing thought he should go for broke and reintroduce Lopulalan and Wilkinson at full-back, that the Secretary of State for Business & Enterprise favoured a start for our Jhan, whoever that was, never mind that the Minister for Climate & Energy found Koviljko Randjelovic’s calves to be of an excellent standard although, the President had to concede, she did have a point.

As she surveyed the scene with a grim expression etched upon her face, only Andrew Walton appeared relatively disinterested – and even that was probably because, she dimly recalled, he was a Green Island native. Why were they all behaving like this, for heaven’s sake!? The team had won a semi-final, and it was hardly the first time at that. The second, in point of fact. But still hardly cause, Morton felt very firmly as she stepped over the Minister for Citizenship & Immigration’s ecstatic corpse, for acting like this.

Not for the first time, she wondered if she truly knew this country at all. How could she hope to lead a people she couldn’t hope to understand? Her popularity ratings were exceptionally low as it was – or would have been, if the papers were currently permitted to publish such results – and how much worse would it get if she couldn’t share in the public’s joy, or commiserate, come Lasft, in their misery? Perhaps now was the time to hand the baton over to Tanter or someone and have done with it. Or Nolan Parker, come to thank. Hand the Minister for Sport the top job, and stick the cherry on top of this whole ridiculous nation. Go back to Michael’s laminated nametag business. She’d liked the laminated nametag business. Heck, even a comfortable little job at Food, Agriculture & Fisheries’d suit her nicely right about now.

“Nolan Parker…” Morton mused vaguely, as the gurning face of the Sports minister rose up in front of her.

“Amazing… Jus’… Amazing. All the work, all-all-all, all the factors, y’know, it-it just all comes together, just at a moment like that, I mean is there any single moment, any second of existence, that can possibly hope to match something like that, honestly, it’s just amazi–”

Morton frowned, and slapped him.

Up to a point, this appeared to have the desired effect. The whooping trailed off slightly as the minister turned back to face her, looking somewhat hurt.

“What was that for…?”

“Mr Sayfritz is away in Qasarian, and I needed someone to slap,” Morton sighed. She brushed Parker aside and slumped gratefully into the nearest chair, bowing her head and resting it against the table.

“Robyn… Are you alright, my duck?” old Tomer Waterson asked with genuine concern, and a meaningful glance sideways at the Minister for Social Services.

Still facing the table, Morton raised a protesting hand. “Don’t talk to me about ducks. Not at a time like this. And let me assure you, Julie, I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but inside my frame beats the heart of a true Candelariasian. If I am to go stark raving bonkers, I shall take care to do so in as demonstrably an unsubtle manner as possible. When I’m wearing my underwear on my head, that’s the time to worry.” She looked up. “Speaking of worrying… What the hell are we going to do!?”

The cabinet shared a few nervous glances. “Do, Robyn?”

“Yes, Tomer. ‘Do’. Four days from now, the bulk of the Candelariasian populace will spend a good couple of hours, and maybe more, watching the World Cup final. Now, I wouldn’t presume to call myself an expert on ‘our’ opponents, but I do recall Mr Parker and Mr Carlsson bringing up the names ‘Tzimisces’ and ‘Di Bradini’ during our conversations. The term ‘bloodied stumps’ also reared its ugly head at some stage.”

“It’s a bummer, aye.”

“‘It’s a bummer, aye’? Really, Stuart? The Minister for Remedial Teaching, the one who’s supposed to spend his every waking moment fretting over this kind of thing, the chap with the ultimate responsibility for making sure this country doesn’t descend into bloody anarchy at the drop of a hat… You think this is a bummer!?”

“Mrs President? Robyn? If I could offer a word of advice?”

“Be my guest, Stuart.”

“Calm down. Really. We’ve made it perfectly clear that Tzimisces and Di Bradini are merely relations of the long-deceased legendary figures for months now. There’s a young Tzimisces in the squad already, and more than enough Di Bradinis running about the multiverse to make that perfectly plausible. It worked last time…”

“Last time the public were too busy concentrating on the bloody cave men to notice…”

“And, y’know,” Carlsson ventured mildly, “If either of them happen to pull on a jersey and actually enter the field of play, th–”

“If they what!?”

“There is a distinct possibility, Mrs President. I did say so in my notes yesterday,” Carlsson added, reproachfully. “By all accounts, if the game isn’t going especially well for the Empire after the first hour or so but they’re still in with a chance… yeah, they could throw themselves on.”

“They’re centenarians!”

“Only in reality as we recognise it…”

Not for the first time in her life, Morton groaned. “I think we can all agree that that wouldn’t be a good thing, hm?”

“Technically, ma’am, the concept of player/managers is comfortably entrenched in the Candelariasian phys–”

“Bub-buh-buh?”

“It would not be a good thing, no,” Carlsson confirmed with dutiful solemnity.

“Then we better make sure it doesn’t happen, shouldn’t we?”

Nolan Parker looked appalled. “Mrs President, we can’t gerrymander the World Cup final!”

“We can try. Stuart, make sure Le Lan knows. One way or another, I want the game done and dusted before the second half even sees the light of day. We’re not to have dead men running onto the pitch. Not again. Am I making myself quite clear?”

The minister swallowed. “Couldn’t be clearer. I’ll pass it on.”

He turned on his heels and strode away, shutting the door a little too loudly behind him. The cabinet milled about awkwardly.

“Well? Meeting adjourned, everyone.”

“Um… We haven’t actually had a meeting yet, ma’am. We were watching the game, an–”

“Then no doubt you’ve got post-match press conference to run along and watch!” Morton snapped. “Go!”

With her head safely tucked behind her hands, Morton counted the footsteps as they filed nervously out through the door until she was almost alone. A friendly hand rested on her shoulder.

“Tomer…?”

“It will be alright, my duck. It’ll come out in the wash, it always does.”

She smiled weakly. “Of course. Tom?”

“Aye?”

“I’m not wearing my undercrackers on my head, am I?”

***

“…tually go the whole hog and start with Oliveira Tavares, though.”

“Sure, and I appreciate exactly where you’re coming from, but we all know what Randjelovic can do, okay he hasn’t had the greatest of tournaments, but with McKenzie out…”

“That’s the big blow, for me. Completely unheralded, you have to say, but he’s been the star man of this whole campaign, y’know? I mean, if we credit Aaron Kortsarian with dragging us to the final six years ago, then surely McKenzie’s the man this time and I just worry that, without him…”

“But that’s exactly why those who’re suggesting we should drop Avola have just lost the plot… And you’re grinning there again, I know you think…”

“He was poor against Sarzonia, you have to admit that.”

“Wouldn’t argue with that at all, John. He wouldn’t argue with that, I’m sure, but if we don’t go with a holding midfielder, against that midfield five, they’re going to be completely overrun and two down inside fifteen minutes. Basically, let’s just remember this… Last World Cup final, everyone talks about what Sbaïz did, what Amey did, Ibadulla, Cohen; but the key battle of that match was Joel Mercado on Ug-Ug. Completely mediocre player, let’s not beat about the bush, mediocre career for a mediocre club, only came in ‘cause of Zec’s suspension, but he kept the big guy quiet all night, a fantastic controlling job, and we have to have Avola for that role. There’s just no argument, surely?”

“No look, absolutely, but y’know are we here to play to our strengths or their weaknesses? Coccino, prime example there, do we want Endekov on him all night, or a Lopulalan who can give us something going forward…?”

“Eh, if it were me I’d say Lopulalan’s the better out-and-out defender as well, but… I just think, going back to the left flank, if we’re looking at someone who can run at a player rather than just deliver crosses, then you’ve got to sick Oliveira Tavares on Lichoudo, he’s surely their weak link…”

“But again, with Pappas and MOT, you’ve got two so similar players there, we’ve seen it for years with MarquezOW that, terrifying prospect though they can be, y’know…? Randjelovic just gives you another outlet, a really different option, especially with McKenzie unavailable. Young, obviously, I mean there’s just no debate right now, is there?”

“No, of course not. No Nakatsuru, Vavasour clearly isn’t fit yet, two up front would just leave us hopelessly undermanned. She’s got to start, no issues there. I take it at left-back, we’re all agreed that Wilkinson…?”

“Yeah, no, absolutely…”

“Well, I mean… I just think it’s… not good, y’know, that this is what we’ve got to pick from back there. When you consider it’s only going to get worse as the years go by… No, I know, I know, we don’t want negativity at this point, but honestly, y’know, we’ve all got to accept the fact here that this is basically it, y’know? When this generation retires, there is nothing, particularly at the back…”

“I just don’t think that stacks up, John, I honestly don’t. There are kids out there…”

“Yeah but where, John? Y’know, we’re always told this, but where are these kids? Who do they play for? I mean, let’s not beat about the bush, right? This achievement, right? This achievement, what Le Lan’s done to reach this final, it’s astonishing. Absolute genius, incredible frankly that it took a bloody Han businessman to actually notice… But look at the CMSC, right, look at the top four from the Apertura, and tell me how many players from those clubs would be in this team, y’know, if everyone was fit? Yeah? Eric O’Brien, and that’s your lot. That can’t be good for the long-term future of the game in this country, it just can’t.”

“Honestly I think that just shows the strength we’ve got available across the board, but…”

“Well that’s… That’s just pravda, frankly, but whatever. I’m just saying, for me, the big story of the next couple of years is going to be where the kids are, where the CAMAFA goes from here, who controls it, because honestly there’s a lot of anger surrounding Vokolos’ role right now…”

“Alright, nice bit of ominous foreshadowing from John, there, but if I can just bring you all back to the issue of the right-ba–”

Jhanna gasped as the laptop’s lid was snapped shut behind her, and she hurriedly pulled away her earphones.

“Gaffer,” she acknowledged, with an awkward smile.

Le Lan didn’t smile back, but plucked the headset out of her hands and shuffled away from her towards the centre of the hushed group. Here, hours before kick-off, the Obelisco Monumental was as quiet as it would it ever be, and no more so than in the Candelariasian dressing room. From her own private corner, Jhanna watched as the manager fumbled in his battered old duffle bag for a marker pen. Between Le Lan and Daft Massimo, her coach at Green Island, you really couldn’t hope to find two more different figures, she mused absently. Massimo filled any room he happened to find himself in, like any good elf, whereas Le Lan was so small and akward and… odd, basically. A little face hidden behind giant glasses, giggling at innopropriate moments. A genius, of course. The general public didn’t know the half of it, though that in itself was nothing new, but he was certainly a difficult man to truly like…

It also occurred to her that everyone had been staring at her for the past thirty seconds.

“Um?” she offered.

“We’re barely three hours away from the kick-off of the biggest game of your life, Young,” Le Lan droaned, “And you’re listening to pre-match punditry?”

“And?” Jhanna muttered, the word intended as a defiant retort smothered by nervousness as she fiddled with her tracksuit. “Everyone else listens to stuff before the games… Gees them up, dun’t it?”

“The latest street flavas, possibly,” Le Lan sighed, screwing his face up as if being forced to taste every single hateful word, “9People. Patsy’s Magic Bullet. The Nome-Gnome Merger. Not failed former players and armchair experts nattering inanely!”

“It helps me relax, alright?” the midfielder snapped back. “My mam used to put the radio on to get me to sleep when I was little and dad was playing away games or…” She trailed off, blushing. As much as anything, the term ‘biggest game of your life’ had begun to sink in.

“You truly are history’s most Candelariasian Green Islander, I’ll give you that,” Le Lan sighed again, though a hint of a smile was playing on his lips this time. He turned away, and wiped some earlier scrawlings off the whiteboard hung to one wall with a sleeve. “Right… Starting eleven, then, let’s get it over and done with, and then there’s some… extra matters, that need to be discussed.”

The pen worked its way across the board as the squad’s survivors held their breath. Rosalia, Lopulalan, O’Brien, Davies, Wilkinson, Pappas, Avola… So far, so predictable. And not, Jhanna added privately to herself, an awful lot to worry the likes of Juan Tzimisces Jr or Ug-Ug. Vavasour, Amey, Randjelovic… Adams. The lid returned to the marker with a snap.

Jhanna jumped to her feet, fists clenched. “What!?”

“No-one has a divine right to start, Miss Young…”

“Don’t you ‘Miss Young’ me, Rain Man! What about the ‘biggest game of my life’!?”

“If you’re needed as a substitute, you’ll get your chance,” Le Lan replied calmly. The rest of the squad shared uncertain glances. Our Jhan was a good lass, but Lanners should be tearing a strip off of her now, surely?

“That’s crap! Kov hasn’t done anything worthwhile since we qualified, Lawrie can barely see through that great stupid mop of his –”

“You know I’m growin’ it fer charity, Jhan…”

“Whatever, you still look like a bloody old English sheepdog, and trust me I know about sheepdogs. Harvey practically needs a runner… You’ve got no-one who can take on their defenders, no-one wh–”

“And you really believe our token female is the answer?”

“We’ve scraped through so far, you know that as well as I do! We… And what the hell do you mean, ‘token female’!? You selected me because I deserve it, I…”

“I’m not going to have this argument right now, Miss Young. And yes, the likelihood that you’ll be needed really is very low. Don’t flatter yourself any more than you do usually, my girl… If I need to make a change, Macario or Gabriel or Zachary will be top of my list… not you.”

“But… Everyone back home’s expecting me to start!” Her silently pleading eyes took in the rest of the squad, hunched on the benches staring at their feet or off into space. “The Johns are expecting me to start!”

“‘Everyone back home’ doesn’t coach my bloody football team! I’ve made my decision perfectly clear, you silly child. If you can’t bring yourself to accept reality and continue in your well-earned role as the squad’s official cheerleader, you know where the flamin’ door is!”

“Fine!” she screeched. Blood pumping by the gallon she stormed across the slippery floor in her socks, giving Le Lan’s bag a good hard kick as she past, and slammed the dressing room door shut behind her. Tears – ahh, there they are – welled up as she banged her fists against the wall and slumped to her haunches. She shouldn’t be acting like this, she knew that perfectly well, but what the hell was she in this squad for if not to play!? She could be home in her Zapata flat, or better yet at her parents’ cottage with mum and dad and the twins and the dogs. Watching the World Cup final like everybody else, dreaming just like she had six years earlier that one day it would be her walking out to contest the greatest prize in world sport. How dare Le Lan take that away from her!? She was a professional footballer, she was supposed to want to play, to get angry if left out. And he’d just dismissed her, like the little misogynist prick that he was!

Why the surprise, though? He couldn’t wait to usher Naoki Tonnelier into retirement at Albrecht FC, could he? And gave Loren Meyer the drop pretty damn quick an’ all. The token female… He’d only picked her thanks to some CAMAFA edict! Just like Imogen Dacosta, the goalkeeper back at the Justantina Cup, back before she was even born. There to make up the numbers, to tick some boxes. She might as well be the third-choice goalkeeper! And he’d chosen now to tell her!?

Snatches of conversation broke through the door as Le Lan ran through his gameplan. “Go out like a bloody train”… “Free Amey to run into space”… “First half’s all-important”… “Target Coccino”… “Two-nil up or down”… “Inconclusive after an hour or so”… “Out of my hands”…

It wasn’t the proper team talk, that would come a couple of hours from now, but Le Lan’s were never up to much anyway. He was no Massimo, or Elgin Dannat. Now was when he worked his magic, and she was missing it. Well he’d never pick her now, would he? Not even if the bench collapsed under the weight of big fat Zach Adekunde, and everyone but her broke their ankles. He’d rather do a Di Bradini and send himself on for the last thirty minutes than her… Wouldn’t he?

He’s never going to pick me again, is he? Jhanna thought, scraping at her eyes. Not after that little performance. It’s not as though I’ve got anything to lose…

She clambered to her feet and pushed at the door.

“Everyone quite clear on that? It won’t come to it, I’m sure, but… Miss Young.” Le Lan didn’t turn to look at her. “Nice of you to join us again.”

Jhanna made the long walk back to her corner, skidding slightly as she past Ogus Kures, her Green Island team-mate, and barely staying upright. He looked… pale, almost, which was quite a feat for the young man, but then he wasn’t likely to play either, was he? Never mind Jesse, or Lee, who weren’t even here now, back at the hotel in plaster. But they’d celebrate all the same, wouldn’t they, just you try and stop ‘em! They were part of the squad, part of the twenty-three, just as much as she was, and they’d deserve to have their moment of glory just as much as Danny or Eric would.

Or Jhanna Young. World Cup winner, Jhanna Young. Oh, she’d get her medal, even if her only input came from screaming at the guys from the sidelines. She’d get her medal, and she’d damn well deserve it, too.

And again, everyone was looking at her. She cleared her throat.

“Um… So, Harvey…?”

“Yeah…?”

“I was watching this DVD in my room last night, and there’s this thing Camatero does when you get him on his left foot, I thought maybe…”

“No doubt he’ll appreciate the benefit of your wisdom, Jhanna,” Le Lan smiled, and this time it seemed almost genuine. “That goes for all of you. Speak now, or forever hold your piece. We could be five and a half hours from glory, my boys and girl. Let’s not waste a single second, shall we? Miss Young?”

“Eh?”

“Your headphones,” he said stoutly, tossing them across the room and turning back to the whiteboard.

[Cafundeu]

It's time.

Result here.

Globo Multimedia presents you the last cutoff.

[Alasdair I Frosticus]

Ours is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.


Obelisco Monumental, Lasft, Cafundeu.....

A wind blows soft across the field as the screams and sighs of tens of thousands, human, ursine, and others, roll across the new-trimmed grass.

On giant screens the teams are announced.

In gold and red, Botaniates, Lichoudo, Tzimisces Jr., Camatero, Coccino, Brades, Ug-Ug, Carbonopsino, Autoreianuso, Comneno, Boradiotes. There are no surprises there, but after Ug-Ug, the gasps and cheers are reserved for the two - and only two - subs. Tzimisces and Di Bradini are confirmed.

In blue and green, Rosalia, Lopulalan, O’Brien, Davies, Wilkinson, Pappas, Avola, Vavasour, Amey, Randjelovic and Adams. There, there are surprises. Why not Jhanna Young? Has Le Lan spent too much time trying to second guess the opposition? Is he haunted by the list of teams the Holy Empire have defeated to come this far?

The captains shake hands with the referee, exchange banners, the coin is tossed...

And the Big Blues have their first small victory of the day.

Candelaria and Marquez kick off.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of our Dreamed Realm.

The first half is one way traffic, and it looks like Le Lan has won his bet.

Wave after wave of blue-shirted attacks descend on the Imperial goal, but Botaniates is having the game of his life. He somehow tips a Randjelovic shot around the post. Amey puts his head in his hands as he misses a sitter from two metres out after Botaniates rushes out to close him down. Adams sees Botaniates just nudge the ball onto the crossbar.

And at the centre of the raging blue storm - immense, strong and unconquerable - is Ug-Ug. No opposing corner, no attempted freekick, no set piece of any kind can seem to pass his vast frame. But it's for his last ditch goalline clearance after Amey' beats Tzimisces Jr that the Imperial squad will forever thank him.

Half time, and Candelaria and Marquez have had eight shots on target to one week long-range effort from Boradiates. Rosalia could have slept through the half. There's only one team in it. The game is all but over - except for one thing. The Big Blues have failed to score.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Something has to change; something has to give. And as the teams are announced for the second half, an expectant hush comes over the crowd.

There are no changes for Candelaria and Marquez, but there are two for the Holy Empire.

Tzimisces has decided to answer the prayers and hopes of every neutral: Brades and Carbonopsino are off; Tzimisces and Di Bradini are on.

Le Lan frowns, but makes no protest. Perhaps in his heart of hearts he embraces his destiny; if he loses now, it will only have been against living legends - and if he wins, he will have defeated one of the greatest central midfields in World Cup history. There can be no dishonour here.

Tzimisces; Ug-Ug; Di Bradini - giants still walk the earth.

The tide begins to turn.

The Imperial midfield starts to take control. Without Nakatsuru to provide a more creative edge against the Imperial legends, the Candelariasians start to fall back. And back - and ever back.

Comneno heads against the post. A Tzimisces rocket brushes the crossbar. Rosalia makes the bravest of saves from a point-blank Ug-Ug header.

In the 76th minute, time seems to freeze. Coccino releases the ageless Di Bradini with an exquisite through ball, and Lopulalan struggles to keep up. Di Bradini crosses. O'Brien tries to head the ball away, but misses. Davies and Wilkinson are marking Comneno and Boradiates, caught static as both Tzimisces and Ug-Ug make surging runs from midfield. They simultaneously jump to head the ball, and for years to come, fans across realities will argue over who had the final touch.

It doesn't matter, because Rosalia is stranded covering the far post. The ball is in the back of the net.

1-0 to the Holy Empire.

The remaining 24 minutes pass in a blur. Rosalia saves another trademark Tzimisces thunderbolt. A final Blues shot from Jhanna Young, brought on as a late substitute in a desperate last throw of the dice, is deflected past the post by an almost oblivious Lichoudo. The whistle sounds for full time.

Pandemonium.

That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but dreams;
Were they needless dreams after all?
For the Dreamed Realm did keep faith
With all that was done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and played on;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them once they won?
I write it out in a verse -
Tzimisces and Ug-Ug
And Di Bradini and all
Now and in time to be,
Wherever gold is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

The only remaining battle is over who should be first up to to collect the trophy. Ug-Ug wants Tzimisces or Di Bradini up; Tzimisces refuses to go first; Di Bradini claims the trophy is not his to take.

In the end, Basil and Theo, down from the commentary booth, dizzy with joy - and not a little drunk - help broker a compromise. Ug-Ug, the captain, the man who almost won the Cup from first qualifier to final through sheer force of will alone takes the trophy, kisses it, and breaks down in tears. The crowd chant almost as one... UG-UG KNOW NOT HOW TO LOSE. He passes the trophy down the line, as each player takes their turn.

The Event is now. The Event has never been. The Event waits in the future. The Event is always happening; the Event will never come to pass.

And then, as Carbonopsino passes the trophy to Brades, who passes to his physical twin Di Bradini, Simeone - 150 years old in Starblaydi time - remembers a poem he once read: "Do not go gentle into that good night / Old age should burn and rave at close of day / Rage, rage against the dying of the light." He allows himself to laugh as he hands the trophy to the final man, his oldest remaining friend, and tries to pretend he's not on the verge of tears himself.

Tzimisces takes the trophy.

For just one moment the stern implacable look seems to fade as the oldest of World Cup legends realises the dream he's held on to since World Cup 1, even while the Realm was closed to outsiders, even when he briefly coached the Archregimancy, even during The Event.

He holds the trophy aloft.

The cheers are deafening

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Imperial goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of our Dreamed Realm
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue


Part I

SBIS HQ
Some time later......

"...and so we should have more or less everything back to its pre-event status by tomorrow."

"Well done, lads! Even Heldscalla?"

"Not quite; the cathedral will take a little longer to sink completely, and the bridge will remain until the last spire is beneath the waves - but everything else will be back to normal."

"And Ug-Ug?"

"Don't worry about him, sir. We made sure he's returned to an appropriate welcome."

Part II

UG-UG'S DIARY

Ug-Ug know not what to think!

Ug-Ug back from World Cup - and Ug-Ug win World Cup! Ug-Ug get big gold cup that he share with team and coach one and coach two.

Some say Ug-Ug is emm vee pee of World Cup. Ug-Ug not sure what emm vee pee is, but it sounds big. A nice man from Caf place gave Ug-Ug a big gold disc that coach two tells me reads "UG-UG KNOW NOT HOW TO LOSE", but Ug-Ug give it away.

Ug-Ug needs not gold.

Ug-Ug still sad for lost tribe.

But then Ug-Ug went home.

Ug-Ug went to place where tribe used to live, for old time's sake.

The sun was in the sky, birds were in the trees; it was the sort of day that used to make Ug-Ug smile.

But then Ug-Ug rub his eyes... It can't be true!

Ug-Ug's tribe is back! Pug-Ug, and Mug-Ug, and Lug-Ug, and Tug-Ug, and all the rest of the Ugs.

And Ug-Ug's girl; she is back too.

Ug-Ug cried.

Ug-Ug not know why they are back; Ug-Ug not sure why they had to die at hands of big bad dream man in first place; but Ug-Ug so glad they are back now.

Ug-Ug has won World Cup. Ug-Ug has tribe back. Ug-Ug will not leave tribe now; rock ball days are done. Ug-Ug knows not how to lose, and he will not lose this new chance to smile.

[Sarzonia]

As inconspicuously as possible, 20-odd men and women clad in dark navy and silver melded in with the crowd at Obelisco Monumental in Lasft, Cafundeu.

They didn't have to be there. After losing the third place playoff to Dancougar in Fauxhan, Bazalonia, they could have easily boarded the next flight back to Nicksia International Airport.

However, they were there for one reason. To support The Holy Empire in its run to the World Cup final.

They'd played one spooky fixture in The Holy Empire, playing to a goalless draw that was long on drama if short on scoring opportunities. Opening his track jacket, defender and team captain Ben Davis unfurled a sign he'd made to mark the occasion.

"Stars for The Holy Empire"

Forward Matt Lynch unveiled his own handmade sign before long.

"Ug-Ug Know Not How To Lose"

It was a strange place for people familiar with being on a pitch to sit in the stands, being surrounded by cheers and jeers in a way they normally weren't. If they were facing a hostile away crowd, they could block out the noise. If they were in front of their supporters, they could tune out the cheers when needed, or feed on them when the time came.

This time, there was none of that. Even with earplugs, it was still ear-splittingly loud.

Candelaria And Marquez got the better of The Holy Empire in the early going. It seemed as if it would only be a matter of time before the Big Blues found the range and into the history books.

Then, a sight that never took place during qualifying was the next to greet the eyes of a surprised collection of Stars players. Substitutes taking off their warmup jackets and stretching on the sidelines.

"Wait ... isn't that ... Tzimisces?"

The manager himself was one of two players standing by the fourth official waiting to be allowed onto the pitch. The other was a name that Franz Braddock might have remembered from his days as manager of Cafundeu.

Simeone Di Bradini.

Yes, that Simeone Di Bradini. A man who plied his trade before Braddock himself even ended his playing career. A man Dave Wilson remembered from his first tenure as Sarzonia's manager.

"Wait ... Di Bradini can't play for two national teams, can he?" Davis asked.

"Apparently, he can," some fan overhearing Davis grumbled. Davis looked over and saw a man wearing the blue colours of a Candelarian supporter grousing about the substitution.

Soon enough, however, it was full time. The Holy Empire finally had its victory in the World Cup finals. And leading the way in the stands, celebrating the victory were Ben Davis, a man who soon would relinquish his captain's armband in favour of a Guitar Hero-wielding striker and that same striker.

Perhaps Ug-Ug wouldn't hear them beginning chants that would soon be joined by The Holy Empire's other supporters, both the ones who began in the earliest days of the World Cup itself and the ones who joined up for this ride.

"Ug-Ug Know Not How To Lose."

"Ug-Ug Know How To Win."

That round of chanting was eventually interrupted by defender Carletta Ryan, whose normally dour expression had given way to a look of shock and her right arm seemed suspended in mid air with the fist closed except for the index finger.

Eventually, the team and its players and assistant coaches looked where Ryan's finger demanded.

There was Franz Braddock, all of 84 years of age, suddenly looking -- and sounding -- the part of a man who was 26 years younger. It was not the Franz Braddock who guided the Stars to three consecutive World Cup appearances who stared back. It was the Franz Braddock who'd just begun his international managerial career for his native Cafundeu who stood there.

Sure, he would continue to manage the Stars. Sure, he had all the wisdom gained from years of experience with both Cafundeu, Petardos S/A and Sarzonia. But now he carried the visage of a much younger man. So, too did Dave Wilson himself.

If Braddock had decided to walk away from his managerial role with the Stars, Wilson himself could easily decide on a third go as Stars manager. However, David Wayne Wilson knew he'd have many more years left. It gave him more time to enjoy Sarzonia's dramatic ascention back into the world football elite.

Seems as though this World Cup is one for miracles, Wilson thought as the Stars began to file out of the stadium. Not just for Sarzonia, but for their honourable opponents who either tasted victory against them, earned draws or fell to the surprising Stars.

[Palmouth]

We send our congrats to the Holy Empire (Who are the countries in it?)

We thank Bazalonia and Cafundeu for organizing a great season, it was brilliant

When I have a scorinator, I'll bid to hots World Cup 49.