Soccer Supremo - A Sports Progression Fantasy

3.

Wednesday, July 7 - The Morning After the Champions League First Leg

Me: Victory, mon petit champignon! You did it! I had Noah clue you were so good at this! Ar mean, ya played so well! (Armenia.)

Henri: Thank you for explaining the witticism. It might otherwise have passed me by. Where are you?

Me: Belfast hotel having breakfast with the Saltney lads and MD and the Saltney fan. You?

Henri: A café my fellow Collegiates and I like on the main street. It is good to have Germans with us for breakfast because they eat sensibly. Till Rehder is a fantastic professional.

Me: Why are you so flat? We both won in the Champions League, mate! You know what this means, right? We're one good result away from setting up the Match of the Century. Max versus Henri. Mentor versus Mental. Winger versus Whinger. Silky steel sex appeal versus man who eats eels. Think of the headlines! Max Tames the Lyons. Red Card for Former Chester Striker Proves You Can't Run a College With Ten Men. I'm thinking of playing centre back. Do you know any shops that sell big pockets? (I'm going to put you in my pocket.)

Henri: Once again, my thanks for the explanation.

***

Thursday, July 8 - The Morning of Bruno's Magpies versus Daugavpils

Me: Coming soon to a football pitch near you... The immovable object meets the irresistible farce.

Henri: I like that one. First, it is tolerably clever. Second, you are right. I am irresistible.

Me: Are you in your fave breakfast spot again?

Henri: Yes. They do a great Eggs Benedict; you would love it. You?

Me: I'm in Best's Breakfast Bar at Bumpers. Chester have two friendlies this weekend and we're just chatting about lineups and so on. Sandra's complaining she doesn't have enough of the first team squad around. I keep telling her she should relax. It's just a game! A game I'm going to beat you at.

Henri: Mon dieu.

Henri: Gemma informed me that Emma is coming to watch the Magpies tonight.

Me: Yeah, her dad's super excited about it. He's like a little boy waiting to open his Christmas presents. Rachel's going, too, so if you want to scribble some poetry on your palm that you can read out to make yourself seem more urbane...

Henri: I do not need to write on my PALM to remember lines. That is the most annoying thing you have ever said.

Me: Did it get under your skin? Hahahaha.

***

Friday, July 9

I woke up with more energy than normal and decided to make the most of it. I jumped out of bed, started a tea brewing, and got my gardening gloves on.

Twenty minutes of aggressive weeding and tidying later, I poured that forgotten tea down the sink and started a new one. My phone rang and I found myself on a video call with Emma.

"Morning!"

Emma peered at me. "Are you naked?"

"I'm wearing gloves. Just did a sesh out the back, babes. Twenty minutes to work up an appetite."

"Wow, twenty minutes? What did you do, five weeds? I'm here at breakfast with my parents. Why don't you throw a top on and I'll call back?"

"Don't be a baby," I said, as I set the phone on a special stand I'd had to buy because I did so many calls these days. I found the nearest t-shirt, pulled it on, and picked up the phone again. "How was it last night?"

Emma had flown to Gibraltar to watch her dad's slash her mum's football team play their first Conference League qualifier. "Amazing! It was a fun game and we won, so that made it perfect. Loads of good passing from both sides. Daugavpils were decent, like you said, and you could see that our boys hadn't played together much."

"Or at all."

Sebastian Weaver, lawyer-turned-club owner, said, "They were canny, Max! Some reet good lads you picked up. That striker is a handful in the penalty box."

"Yeah," I said, remembering back to the day I had turned up at the PFA pre-season trials. "He's a handful in the executive box, too. Tough negotiator! He rinsed us on his wages but I just thought there was no point playing lots of pretty football and not scoring. That guy's a killer."

Rachel said, "How come his contract wasn't renewed at his previous club?"

"Who knows?" I said. "Injuries, bad form, falling out with the manager. If I had to guess based on his goalscoring streaks I'd say he's one of those players who shines when his contract is running out and he needs a new one. He goes on a run of great performances, goals for days, the fans demand the club break the bank to extend..."

"And when he gets his new deal, he relaxes," said Seb.

"That's my guess," I said. "But this time the manager didn't let him back in the team to give him that chance, if you get me."

"Doesn't seem like a great character trait, tbh," said Emma.

I shrugged. "It's a very efficient way of managing your career, right? If you can get away with it. You only need to play well for a month every couple of years. This time it blew up in his face but that negative trait - if that's what it is - is perfect for us because he's got a very limited number of games to put on a show and get clubs interested in him. Two goals on debut is a hell of a start. How did Stefan Clown do?"

I had asked the Magpies manager to use at least one DM, even though I hadn't given him one. I had suggested he try Stefan there and from the crappy feed that I had watched, that's exactly where he had played.

Seb said, "He ran the game. Best player on the pitch, if you ask me."

Scouting points for Seb! Stefan certainly had the highest CA. "Okay, that's good. What were people saying about their goal?"

In the second half, the Latvians had put together a nice passing move that ended with a crisp one-two and a shot low into the corner that Banksy probably should have saved. Banksy had CA 69, which was higher than the three local players who were in the starting eleven, but was much lower than the other ringers I had sent. Stefan Clown was on CA 102, Wes 'Sharky' Hayward was still on his max of 86, and the five PFA randos averaged 90. If they didn't trust the goalie, didn't understand why he was there, it could eat away at team spirit.

"We watched with Henri and the guys from College," said Emma. "Andrew Harrison, Fitzroy Hall, and the boys from Bayern. Plus our mates at the Gibraltarian FA. Gemma was here for the Tuesday match but had to fly back yesterday morning so we missed her. It's mad busy out here! Like Piccadilly Circus! Yeah, anyway, people were trying to be nice saying like oh, maybe Banksy didn't expect the shot to come so early, maybe his weight was going the wrong way. But Henri said, no, it was poor."

"That's good," I said. "Players need honest feedback."

"I suppose. Henri said that all goalies make mistakes like that from time to time but the best ones react well. He said Banksy reacted well, but I didn't notice him doing anything different."

"That is him reacting well," I said. "Not trying to overcompensate for the mistake. Just keep playing. It's hard but that's the champion mentality."

"Your favourite Australian goalkeeper said he would do some extra sessions with Banksy while they're both here."

She was talking about a guy called Peter Schnakenberg, who had been one of the backup goalies when I was at Bayern. His CA of 111 made him perfect for College's road through the qualifiers, but his ceiling of PA 128 meant he would probably never play for the German giants. He was only 21 so he would have a long career, and if he was being that awesome around camp, he would be my first choice for the Gibraltar Conspiracy gig every season. "Oh, did he? That's really cool. I love Australians unreservedly."

Emma twisted her lips. "Is that right?"

"Or," I said, getting suspicious, "maybe he only suggested it because you were there because he knew you'd love it. Maybe this is the start of him making a move."

Emma said, "I wasn't even on The Rock when Petey suggested it."

"Petey?" I said.

Seb said, "Max, we won 2-1 at home. In a week we play the second leg in Latvia, at their place, in front of their fans. I don't want to crash out in the first round; I'm loving this! The travel, the hotels, the UEFA logo, the VIP boxes. I want more. How worried should we be?"

I stuck my bottom lip out. "One thing I can tell you right away is that it won't be at their place. It'll be in the nearest high-category stadium, which is in Riga. Some of the home fans will travel there but it won't be a bear pit by any means."

"Oh!" said Seb, cheering up.

I continued. "2-0 would have been about fifty times better than 2-1. If there's only a goal in it, anything can happen. I'd need to see Daugavpils in the flesh to know for sure but they don't look better than Linfield." The Latvians were probably under CA 70, whereas the team I had assembled came in at just under 80. "Daugavpils are more technical than Linfield, but much less physical. If it was October I'd back our Magnificent Magpies to overwhelm them, but without a pre-season in their legs, our fitness advantages are lessened, and if it's hot out there, that won't suit our English guys.

"But based on what I saw last night, I'm optimistic. I mean, Daugavpils win their league matches by creating loads of space in the middle but Stefan Clown's really smart and he was shutting it down. Our main thing is that we've got a good starting eleven but no depth. If one of the key players picks up a knock..."

"Don't doomshadow all over dad's breakfast, babes."

"How are the College boys?"

"Great," said Emma. "Andrew and Fitzroy can't stop smiling. They never thought they would be in the Champions League! Henri was saying you had made a mistake in making College so strong and he couldn't wait to dump you out of the competition just to see the look on your face as your creation turned against you. He was getting all pompous about it so we said, yeah but Max, Wibbers, and Gabby. Cue the next speech, followed by us going, yeah but Max, Wibbers, and Gabby. He was getting really worked up! It was so funny."

"Ha," I said. "I've been teasing him via text but he has been pretending to rise above it. I'm glad to hear he's into it."

"I think he doesn't want to jinx it. Got to finish the job, right? Then he can join in the teasing."

"Fair enough," I said. "But I plan to keep winding him up because if we have to play them, I want it to be a proper game, blood and thunder, so that UEFA don't investigate us for match-fixing or whatever. And it won't help Fitzroy, Andrew, Henri, or anyone if they're seen to be too matey with the opposition during a match that has millions of pounds in prize money on the line."

Rachel said, "Henri wondered if you had started to think about who you wanted to be your best man." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel⚑fire.net

"Ha!" I said. "I can use that!"

Rachel gave me a vaguely disappointed look. "I didn't say it to give you ideas for how to wind him up. He dropped it into the conversation so subtly I barely realised he had done it."

"He wants me to wind him up. He'll enjoy the experience more if he can tell himself we're actually fighting to the death."

"Are you sure about this, babes?" said Emma.

"Dead sure. Billion percent sure. So he was asking who I wanted to be my best man? I wonder who he thinks the other options are. Jackie Reaper? MD? Mateo? Sandra Lane?" Inspiration struck me. An idea so perfect I nearly started cackling but as much as poss, I didn't cackle in front of the Weavers. I rubbed my lips. "Tell him I'm going hard after Timothée Chalamet."

Rachel blinked. "The actor?"

"Yeah. He's my first choice. I read a magazine article about how Timothée Chalamet did a gracious, charming, and moving best man speech at his brother's wedding and everyone who was there said it was the best speech they'd ever heard. Emma's the best and she deserves the best and that's Timothée Chalamet."

"Max," said Rachel, slowly. "Does Timothée Chalamet have a brother?"

"As far as I know, yes, based on the article that I definitely read. If you bump into Henri before you fly home, tell him not to worry about anything because I'm going right to the top of the A-list."

"Max," said Emma, worried.

"Trust me," I said. "We aggravate Henri today for extra happiness tomorrow. Hey, how's the new stadium looking?"

"Really impressive," said Seb. "Clever the way it curves upwards away from the runway. It's safer and it leads the eye towards The Rock. It's well done."

Rachel said, "We went to your flat; it's going to be lovely." This time last year, the Gib FA had promised to give me a discount on one of the flats in the stadium depending on how many matches I won as College's player-manager. I had overdelivered and was now repeating the trick without even being in the same timezone. "It's just a shell for now but they let us in to see one that's closer to being finished. They're lovely."

"Amazing address, too," said Seb. "Winston Churchill Avenue!"

Emma said, "Mum was wondering if you'd let them stay? On nights when you're not using it."

"Course," I said, instantly. Because I was suddenly desperate for cash I had been thinking about sub-letting the place to get some extra income, but the Weavers had bought my mum a bungalow. If they wanted to crash in my place a few nights a year, they'd earned the right. "Mi casa is su casa. Really glad you saw a positive result last night! Fingers crossed the lads do us proud in the second leg. Are you going?"

"We all are," said Emma.

"Oh," I said. "If I'd known that the Magpies progressing in the competition was going to deprive me of my betrothed, I might have picked a different squad."

"What does it say on the Doomsday Clock, babes?"

I turned and looked at the wedding countdown Ruth had bought for us. "323 days to go."

"You need to rip off the last number."

"I already did," I said. "It's the first thing I do when I get up."

"Aw," said Rachel. "He's excited really."

"Course I am," I said. "I've never been to a castle. All right, I need to go to Bumpers for training."

"Which training?" said Emma. "Chester or Saltney?"

"Both."

***

I drove the Mini to Bumpers and parked in my special exclusive space. It used to say 'manager' to stop other people from using it, but I had ordered the builders to come back and repaint it to say 'SUPREMO'.

Ah, not really, but I was tempted.

I waved at Jojo in the reception block, who smiled and waved back. Our new canteen was already busy, filled with players from Chester, Saltney, and some of the women's team even though their pre-season hadn't started yet. There was the sound of scraping chairs, cutlery on plates, sizzling fryers, vents. Smiles, laughs, a couple of people in headphones, some of the coaches scribbling in notebooks while munching on toast.

I saw Wibbers and made a beeline for him. As usual, Sarah Greene was by his side. "Dude," I said. "Can I have a quick chat?"

"Course, boss."

"There's good news and bad news. Do you want Sarah here?"

"Always," he said, without embarrassment, because he was so besotted with her he didn't realise how dippy he sounded. "Start with the good news."

"It's not good news for you, bro."

"Oh."

Sarah shook her head. "Jesus, Max."

I laughed and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. "I've been thinking about the line up against Linfield next week. I think I have a rare chance to be a good person and I'm hoping you can help me out. Here's Saltney's squad."