attjen Posted August 10, 2006 Author Share Posted August 10, 2006 Prologue The man with the sunglasses wearing the dark pin-striped suit led me into a small private office in the non-descript strip mall, just outside of the city of W________. I still clutched the letter I received earlier that morning in my clammy right hand, still nervous about what exactly I was doing here. There was an empty desk, with a chair behind it. Two other chairs were on the opposite side of the desk. There were no windows, and the doors - one behind me were I had come in and one across from it behind the desk- had no visible means of opening them. This was a bad sign. I sat… and sweated, although it wasn’t a particularly warm day and the office was quite cool. After a few minutes, during which I managed to crumple and un-crumple the letter in my fist a few times, another person was guided into the room, and the pin-striped fellow disappeared just as before. He paused slightly as he came in the door, looked at me with a confused expression, saw my letter, and then nodded slightly. “You have one too, I see?†he said. He sat down in the other chair on my right, next to me. He was quiet for a few moments, and then said, reaching his hand over, “My name is Eric Lionel Fleming. E.L.F., for short. Good friends call me Madcap.†I shook his hand. “I’m Max Jenkins.†“Any idea what we are doing here?†“Not much. Only what was in-“ “The letter,†he finished. He looked at his own, considerably in better shape than mine. He looked at me with a furrowed brow. “Well, I suppose someone will tell us something eventually,†he added in a desperate voice of cheerfulness. We sat in silence for a few minutes more. Finally, the door behind the desk opened and two men in pin-striped suits (one of them may have been the man who led us in originally, but I wouldn’t venture to guess which) came in with a briefcase each. They stood at either side of the desk. Another man entered, all in white cotton. He wore robes and a white scarf on his head. His sunglasses were silver rimmed, shining a bit above his dark, evenly cut beard. He sat behind the desk. After a brief moment of looking at each of us in turn, he said, “Well let’s proceed then, shall we?†His English was perfect. In fact… it was a bit too perfect considering the American accents I was accustomed to. It may have been a bit clipped, as though he had been taught in a completely formal way. Each of the men in the suits placed their briefcases on the desk, opened them, and then in a strangely choreographed movement tossed us both a small rectangular object. Fleming caught his. My bounced off my shaking hands, and landed on the floor, forcing me to bend out of the chair and pick it up. “Congratulations,†the main the white robes said. “You are now citizens of Qatar.†I looked at the passport in my hands. The photo was mine, the name was mine, and even the signature was mine. Fleming recovered first. “I’m sorry, did you say Qatar?†“Yes. You two have been selected to aid us in a certain endeavor.†I nearly tried to make a bolt for an exit, until I remembered that there wasn’t one. The man in the robes turned his head slightly as though he knew what I was thinking, and continued, “You each have a certain skill set that will be useful to what we are trying to achieve. Before I say anything further, let me assure you that this venture is neither illegal nor particularly dangerous. It involves football, or soccer, as you call it here.†“Football?†I said. “Soccer?†said Fleming. “Yes. Certain powerful individuals of my country believe that the time has come for us to have an international team that suits the lifestyle we are used to. A very good team, to be blunt. We have had a moderate level of success, but we desire to be better. We also desire a youthful squad, one that will improve with age, rather than a cobbled together group of players who were rejected by their own countries.†He tapped the desk a few times with his fingers. Then continued, “Now, let me make this clear that we are not really here to negotiate.†At this the two men in suits pushed two manila envelopes across the table to each of us. I slowly opened my own. Inside I found… well, without giving up too much detail… I found letters, bank statements, transcripts of phonecalls, and photographs. Far, far too many photographs. I blanched, and tried to find my voice. I had a vague awareness of Fleming trying to do the same. The man continued, “Please, do not consider this a threat. Consider this an opportunity. Mr. Jenkins has a good deal of experience in scouting. Mr. Fleming has a good deal of experience in convincing people to do something that otherwise they might not have considered. When the door opens behind you, you will begin new lives, new careers, recruiting the best young players you can find to become citizens of Qatar, like yourselves. And should you have difficulty doing so,†he added, “you will have plenty of resources.†The two men turned the briefcases to face us. When confronted with a great deal of money, and I do mean a great, great deal of money, your sense of right and wrong is often tested to an extent that you never thought you would face. I tried to estimate how much I was being tested, but I all could do was think of how much money could be sitting there, in that room, on that desk, and I don’t think my mind can add that high. “You will be taken care of, to be sure. You are both our men now. You report directly to me.†He paused for a moment, as if considering whether he should say what he wanted to say, “I wish to be clear on one point. We are not trying to buy international success. That… we could achieve and easily, without your help. We are trying to buy the beginning of international success; we want to earn the glory we find in the years to come.†“Why us?†I managed to say. “I mean, why two Americans?†He chuckled slightly. “As Americans, you have certain moral and financial flexibility. Your innovation and creativity… will be…†he chuckled again, “one might say, ‘expected.’†He stood, the two men retrieved the manila envelopes, closed up the briefcases, and directed us to the door. (Now opened, I observed, by what had to be the original man. Or not.) We were led to a waiting limousine. Fleming and I climbed into the back seat as the man in the robes stood on the curb. As the car started, he said, “Don’t worry about your past. It has been taken care of. You will hardly be missed,†he chuckled again, “in fact, one might say you will almost certainly be… forgotten.†The car drove off. After several minutes where both Fleming and I sat in stunned silence, he finally turned to me and said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did you do?†I blushed and said, “I’d rather not talk about what was in that envelope if you don’t mind. I’d expect you’d rather not talk about your own.†He looked embarrassed, “Oh. No, I actually meant ‘what did you do before’? What experience was he talking about that you have?†I blinked. “Ah, I see. I was a talent agent… Acting, music, a few athletes here and there.†After a moment I added, “How about you? What experience did you have?†“Oh,†said Fleming. “I imagine it must have had something to do with me being a lobbyist.†For background info or to join in, you might want to go this thread. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 10, 2006 Share Posted August 10, 2006 Prologue The man with the sunglasses wearing the dark pin-striped suit led me into a small private office in the non-descript strip mall, just outside of the city of W________. I still clutched the letter I received earlier that morning in my clammy right hand, still nervous about what exactly I was doing here. There was an empty desk, with a chair behind it. Two other chairs were on the opposite side of the desk. There were no windows, and the doors - one behind me were I had come in and one across from it behind the desk- had no visible means of opening them. This was a bad sign. I sat… and sweated, although it wasn’t a particularly warm day and the office was quite cool. After a few minutes, during which I managed to crumple and un-crumple the letter in my fist a few times, another person was guided into the room, and the pin-striped fellow disappeared just as before. He paused slightly as he came in the door, looked at me with a confused expression, saw my letter, and then nodded slightly. “You have one too, I see?†he said. He sat down in the other chair on my right, next to me. He was quiet for a few moments, and then said, reaching his hand over, “My name is Eric Lionel Fleming. E.L.F., for short. Good friends call me Madcap.†I shook his hand. “I’m Max Jenkins.†“Any idea what we are doing here?†“Not much. Only what was in-“ “The letter,†he finished. He looked at his own, considerably in better shape than mine. He looked at me with a furrowed brow. “Well, I suppose someone will tell us something eventually,†he added in a desperate voice of cheerfulness. We sat in silence for a few minutes more. Finally, the door behind the desk opened and two men in pin-striped suits (one of them may have been the man who led us in originally, but I wouldn’t venture to guess which) came in with a briefcase each. They stood at either side of the desk. Another man entered, all in white cotton. He wore robes and a white scarf on his head. His sunglasses were silver rimmed, shining a bit above his dark, evenly cut beard. He sat behind the desk. After a brief moment of looking at each of us in turn, he said, “Well let’s proceed then, shall we?†His English was perfect. In fact… it was a bit too perfect considering the American accents I was accustomed to. It may have been a bit clipped, as though he had been taught in a completely formal way. Each of the men in the suits placed their briefcases on the desk, opened them, and then in a strangely choreographed movement tossed us both a small rectangular object. Fleming caught his. My bounced off my shaking hands, and landed on the floor, forcing me to bend out of the chair and pick it up. “Congratulations,†the main the white robes said. “You are now citizens of Qatar.†I looked at the passport in my hands. The photo was mine, the name was mine, and even the signature was mine. Fleming recovered first. “I’m sorry, did you say Qatar?†“Yes. You two have been selected to aid us in a certain endeavor.†I nearly tried to make a bolt for an exit, until I remembered that there wasn’t one. The man in the robes turned his head slightly as though he knew what I was thinking, and continued, “You each have a certain skill set that will be useful to what we are trying to achieve. Before I say anything further, let me assure you that this venture is neither illegal nor particularly dangerous. It involves football, or soccer, as you call it here.†“Football?†I said. “Soccer?†said Fleming. “Yes. Certain powerful individuals of my country believe that the time has come for us to have an international team that suits the lifestyle we are used to. A very good team, to be blunt. We have had a moderate level of success, but we desire to be better. We also desire a youthful squad, one that will improve with age, rather than a cobbled together group of players who were rejected by their own countries.†He tapped the desk a few times with his fingers. Then continued, “Now, let me make this clear that we are not really here to negotiate.†At this the two men in suits pushed two manila envelopes across the table to each of us. I slowly opened my own. Inside I found… well, without giving up too much detail… I found letters, bank statements, transcripts of phonecalls, and photographs. Far, far too many photographs. I blanched, and tried to find my voice. I had a vague awareness of Fleming trying to do the same. The man continued, “Please, do not consider this a threat. Consider this an opportunity. Mr. Jenkins has a good deal of experience in scouting. Mr. Fleming has a good deal of experience in convincing people to do something that otherwise they might not have considered. When the door opens behind you, you will begin new lives, new careers, recruiting the best young players you can find to become citizens of Qatar, like yourselves. And should you have difficulty doing so,†he added, “you will have plenty of resources.†The two men turned the briefcases to face us. When confronted with a great deal of money, and I do mean a great, great deal of money, your sense of right and wrong is often tested to an extent that you never thought you would face. I tried to estimate how much I was being tested, but I all could do was think of how much money could be sitting there, in that room, on that desk, and I don’t think my mind can add that high. “You will be taken care of, to be sure. You are both our men now. You report directly to me.†He paused for a moment, as if considering whether he should say what he wanted to say, “I wish to be clear on one point. We are not trying to buy international success. That… we could achieve and easily, without your help. We are trying to buy the beginning of international success; we want to earn the glory we find in the years to come.†“Why us?†I managed to say. “I mean, why two Americans?†He chuckled slightly. “As Americans, you have certain moral and financial flexibility. Your innovation and creativity… will be…†he chuckled again, “one might say, ‘expected.’†He stood, the two men retrieved the manila envelopes, closed up the briefcases, and directed us to the door. (Now opened, I observed, by what had to be the original man. Or not.) We were led to a waiting limousine. Fleming and I climbed into the back seat as the man in the robes stood on the curb. As the car started, he said, “Don’t worry about your past. It has been taken care of. You will hardly be missed,†he chuckled again, “in fact, one might say you will almost certainly be… forgotten.†The car drove off. After several minutes where both Fleming and I sat in stunned silence, he finally turned to me and said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did you do?†I blushed and said, “I’d rather not talk about what was in that envelope if you don’t mind. I’d expect you’d rather not talk about your own.†He looked embarrassed, “Oh. No, I actually meant ‘what did you do before’? What experience was he talking about that you have?†I blinked. “Ah, I see. I was a talent agent… Acting, music, a few athletes here and there.†After a moment I added, “How about you? What experience did you have?†“Oh,†said Fleming. “I imagine it must have had something to do with me being a lobbyist.†For background info or to join in, you might want to go this thread. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Barnsley Posted August 10, 2006 Share Posted August 10, 2006 Good so far will be good this i can feel it Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Suma Posted August 11, 2006 Share Posted August 11, 2006 nice.... great prologue Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
gil Posted August 11, 2006 Share Posted August 11, 2006 Looks promising Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Big Pants Posted August 13, 2006 Share Posted August 13, 2006 Oh Lordy. Sheikh Yerbeardypants loves a bit of subterfuge, and is banging on the Qatari team bus door as it revs up in the garage. Strangely, the driver looks a little like Steve McLaren, but then, don't all coach drivers? Looking forward to a sandy, oily, dusty ride Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 14, 2006 Author Share Posted August 14, 2006 Part One: Traveling It was a jet. Can’t deny it. Won't try to. What sort, style, or make, I hadn’t a clue. Private? I suppose that goes without saying. Fleming and I boarded it in silence, contemplating… whatever personal matters, we happened to… need… to contemplate at that moment. To say that the jet was surprisingly roomy, is like saying that the Grand Canyon is somewhat large. To say the jet was very lavish, would be like saying the crown jewels are a bit on the shiny side. It was fascinating. Fleming turned to me, just inside the door to the jet, “Well, I guess we’ll travel in style, eh?†and then walked to the nearest seat, and plopped down, leant back and put his hands behind his head. He seemed to take to the idea. I sat in the seat opposite, facing back towards the rear of the plane. It was only due to position that I managed to see two more pin-striped suit wearing (do you think they buy in bulk?) men board the plane with two medium-sized carry-on bags. They gave one to each of us, and one of them said, “Your resources†before they left the plane and the door closed. I peeked inside the top compartment of the bag. “Well,†I said, “we won’t be in need of funds, at least.†Fleming grinned and added with a wink, “or certain other resources, it seems,†closing his bag as he did so. I considered that for a moment, but figured I’d let it pass. “So,†I said, “What do you know about soccer?†He blinked a few times. “The ball is round. The game last 90 minutes.†“Well, that is one more thing than me then.†We sat for a little while before the pilot, who was thankfully not wearing a pin-striped suit, though he probably did when he was off duty, came back and said in a far-too-pleasant tone, “Destination?†I looked at Fleming. He looked at me. The ability of either one of us to make decisions at the time would maybe have gotten either one of us to the john. “Pardon?†I tried. “Would you care to state your destination?†said the pilot again. Fleming and I exchanged glances again. He shrugged, “You’re the ‘scout’.†He said. I heard him pronounce the quotation marks. The pilot turned to me and waited patiently. Like a statue. Stone-like. Marble. Marble statue. “Greece.†I said. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 14, 2006 Author Share Posted August 14, 2006 Traveling (continued) The Greek man who was sitting on the bench at the unremarkable training ground was possibly the hairiest man I’ve ever seen. Bigfoot hairy. Sasquatch hairy. Robin Williams hairy. It was distracting. The translator we’d hired was nodding his head knowingly, giving Fleming and I looks every once in a while, but not actually translating any of the patter for us. The hairy man, still talking, was gesturing at some of the youngsters out on the soccer field… mainly shaking his head, and occasionally spitting. He would point at himself every once in a while and then grin broadly at the translator (who just kept nodding and giving Fleming and I a look like “there really isn’t anything useful here for me to tell youâ€). Then suddenly the hairy man got real thoughtful. It was very amusing seeing this man in deep thought, like some wild bear suddenly thinking about all the good places to crap in the woods. He said something about “Georgey Snuffulupagous†or something like that and tapped his chin a couple of times… The translator was suddenly interested. He rapidly asked a sequence of questions, somehow forcing the man to answer in short clear sentences. This went on for a good 5 minutes or more. It pays to have good help, or should I say - if you pay enough money you can get good help. The translator shook the hairy man’s hand, and turned to us. “He says best player is not here. Plays for a team across town.†Fleming grimaced and muttered to me, “How many times do we have to ask this guy not to shout?†I shook my head. The jet plane had an excellent liquor selection. Odd that. I sympathized with him. So did my throbbing temples. However badly we felt, we at least looked sharp. When we landed we found that not only did we have our <cough> “resource bags†but a new set up of luggage as well. Full, thankfully, with some clean clothes. We looked fairly spiffy in our new suits. (No pin-stripes. Basic blue for me and black for Fleming. White shirts with a European style collar flair.) We looked a bit like wealthy businessmen. Or Mafia men. Or out-of-work porn stars. The translator walked us out of the training grounds back to our waiting limousine. He was positively giddy. “The man says Giorgos Papadimitriou is the best teenage player in town. Says he is quick, clever, scores goals, and has… I think you would say… a very swelled head.†“Pompous?†I asked. “Probably,†replied the translator. “Greedy?†asked Fleming. “Almost certainly,†said the translator grinning like a man who knows he’s going to get paid an obscenely large amount of money. As we were leaving, the hairy man jumped out of his seat… well, rolled, at any rate, and starting shouting at us. Fleming and I turned to the translator and gave him a questioning look. “He says we never said which club we were scouting for. He says he should know so he can tell his bosses.†Fleming chuckled. “Tell him the Atlanta Braves,†he said. The kid was there alright, on the field where the hairy man had directed us. We watched him practice for a few minutes. He certainly seemed fast. He certainly seemed skilled. He certainly seemed willing to throw himself on the ground and scream like a girl if anybody came within 10 feet of him. “I like him,†said Fleming. “What’s his name again?†“Giorgos Papadimitriou,†said the translator. “Geegos Papadim… Gositrou… G-Papa. ‘Gigi Papa’†Fleming said. After a few minutes we got the kid to come over. He looked at us suspiciously. We told him the deal. He considered. He asked a question. The translator said, “He wants to know if he will play internationals.†Fleming and I both nodded. The kid looked at us and asked another question. “He wants to know how soon.†“Tell him,†I said, “before he turns 17. And tell him if he’s not playing professionally by that time, I’ll give him twice what we just offered.†The translator told him. The kid grinned. Qatar had just found another citizen. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Big Pants Posted August 14, 2006 Share Posted August 14, 2006 Nice, Mr Jenn But what's in ELF's bag? \0/ Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
_Raul_ Posted August 15, 2006 Share Posted August 15, 2006 Good start Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
_Raul_ Posted August 15, 2006 Share Posted August 15, 2006 Good start Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
sammayel666 Posted August 15, 2006 Share Posted August 15, 2006 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by _Raul_: Good start </div></BLOCKQUOTE> whs. Awaiting the futher scouting exploits of the two distinguished gentlemen Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 16, 2006 Author Share Posted August 16, 2006 Traveling (continued) It had not been very long after we had finalized the deal with Papadimitriou that we left Greece. Although we did waste some hours trying to see if there was anyone else worth pursuing in the surrounding area of Athens. Ultimately, our Greek translator convinced us that we should be pleased we found one teenager that suited our purpose, and that we shouldn’t try and fill our whole team within one country. “It might look suspicious,†he had said, giving us a look that implied that we were already far too suspicious and that if he were one of us, he wouldn’t hang around long... especially with that strange black car following us around the city. So after a brief conversation with our driver, who indicated that we had our choice of transportation, the sea was considered the best option. (Neither Fleming or I had a particularly desire to take the jet until our eyes had at least returned to single vision.) You do have to wonder about our common sense though, taking a cruise when neither of us was feeling particularly balanced. Cruising across the Ionian and Adriatic Sea on the way to Italy is not the worst way to pass a night, however. It was a relatively smooth passage in the private yacht that had met us at the dock. It didn’t hurt that the yacht had nicer rooms than most places I’ve lived. Italy. Rome. Another strange youth team coach telling our translator (a youngish fellow of poor complexion, but quickly found and highly recommended by our captain - “the cleverest son of my nieceâ€) that none of this batch of players could produce much of anything worthwhile… though there was a player he knew of, his elder brother’s wife’s nephew, who might be interested. He told us the directions and we were on our way. Alessandro di Chiara was a tall lanky lad of 18 or so. According to the translator, the kid had been playing with the Italian international youth sides until a year or so ago before he was kicked off the squad. “They said that he wasn’t learning to tackle and that he had failed a mental aptitude test. But he says that’s all a lie,†continued the translator. “He says the coach had a personal vendetta against him because he thinks Alesandro… shall we say… ‘kissed’… his 16-year old daughter.†“Did he?†asked Fleming. “No,†said Di Chiara, after the translator relayed the question. The kid made a face like he’d rather stick his face in a pile of dung. “So where has he been playing then?†I asked, trying not to giggle. After this was relayed to the kid and he had answered, the translator shrugged and said, “He says he can’t get on a club anywhere since the head coach has a lot of cousins who were in scouting.†“Does he sound honest?†said Fleming. “Maybe,†said the translator. “Guess we’d better talk to the youth coach that sent him packing. Tell him we might be back later today,†Fleming said with a sigh. It didn’t take long to get to the facility and with some explanation our translator got us in to see the Italian coach. He looked like a former player, still fairly fit and athletic. After the translator told him the basics the coach said (in English), “di Chiara? I will tell you two myself, he’s a no good player who isn’t worth a glance. You better off talking to one of our player’s in training here; there are a couple of very good ones still looking for club contracts who’d like playing in a first team squad in America.†(I didn’t bother to correct his assumption about who we were scouting for.) So we wandered around the facility a bit and saw a bunch of highly focused, disciplined Italian players. “As you can see,†said the coach, “any of these player is worth a bit of a gamble.†“We’ll think about it,†said Fleming. Back at the car after a moment, and the two of us were deep in thought. “So where does that leave us? None of those players suit our purposes, each is a dedicated Italian locked into a fast track to the international side. di Chiara is much more our style, but we don’t know if he’s actually any good,†said Fleming. “That’s true,†I said. “Somebody’s lying to us.†“But who?†I considered for a moment. “I think it’s the coach.†Fleming gave me a look, “Why him? What’s the coach got to lie about?†“Did you happen to see the photograph he had on his desk?†“Er… no.†“I think it was his daughter.†“And?†I paused. “I’m trying to think of a polite way of saying ‘oink’ but I’m drawing a blank.†Fleming brought his eyebrows together. “Ah… so the coach thinks the kid snogged his daughter, confronts him, and the kid says that the daughter in question is uglier than snot… So goodbye kid. Yeah, I could see that. Rough.†I nodded. “Well,†Fleming said. “Maybe I need to go talk to him again.†He asked the driver to open the back and reached into his bag in the trunk. He pulled something out and tucked it into the small of his back. He walked back into the building and was gone for a few minutes. I waited next the car. A few minutes later and he was back, trying not to crack a smile. “So?†I said. “Oh, the coach was lying. He told me that the kid has really good talent and could be a class act one day. He said he and the kid had a falling out for personal reasons. He said he was really sorry and he'd never do it again, and wouldn't I like to meet his daughter.†He paused. "She has a wonderful personality, I'm told." We headed back to di Chiara's place and concluded the arrangements. Another Qatari passport handed over. The translator stayed behind to make sure the details were clear. On our way back to the car I gave Fleming a hard look. “A lobbyist, eh?†I asked. He smiled a bit and climbed into the car. I got in next to him. He was quiet for a moment then turned to me and said, “It might not have been the fullest of descriptions…. driver, we’d better get out of here.†“Here?†asked the driver. “Italy,†Fleming and I said in unison. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Amaroq Posted August 16, 2006 Share Posted August 16, 2006 I'll be bookmarking this one, for sure! I love the detail and the dialog. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
_Raul_ Posted August 17, 2006 Share Posted August 17, 2006 Nice build up for my player Di Chiara Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Big Pants Posted August 17, 2006 Share Posted August 17, 2006 The daughter's going to stalk you _Raul_ Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 17, 2006 Author Share Posted August 17, 2006 Traveling (continued) We fle… excuse me ‘left’ Italy in a bit of a hurry. This time the trip was facilitated by a private train. (I hadn’t known one could get a private train.) Paris was the destination. Ah… Paris. The City of Lights. Or something. As we left the train station, Fleming seemed quite happy to be there, like he’d been waiting for a chance to see all the sights. He looked around like a tourist, eyes gleaming. “Which way is the Eiffel Tower?†He asked. “It’s supposed to be marvelous at night.†(It was about 9:30pm.) The street was still a bit crowded with people wandering around, and we got some nasty looks and jostles from people walking past. I pointed down the street. “I think it’s over that way.†I coughed slightly. “Er… the direction that kid who just picked your pocket is going.†“What?†said Fleming, eyes flashing as he patted his pants. “Son of a…†He took off running after the kid, who was probably about 16 or so and who turned around, saw Fleming, and bolted down a side street. I began to trot after Fleming. We turned a corner and the kid was already at the end of the block and turning again. “Fast little b*****d, wasn’t he?†said Fleming with a scowl, coming to a halt. I stopped beside him, nodding my head. “Yup. What did he take?†“Um… just some loose bills, I think. Most anything important was in the bags that were sent ahead to the car. Speaking of which, where is the car?†I pointed back the way we came, “Probably still waiting back there at the station entrance.†We walked back and got in the car. As we began to move, Fleming said, “What are you looking at?†He pointed at the papers I was holding in my hand. “Hmmm… Nothing. Something the kid forgot about when he was busy running off.†I looked at the paper closely, my French was about Junior High level, but the item of interest was obviously the ad that was circled in red. I think I had a fair idea what it meant, but I’d have to confirm it with the driver. I asked him to pull over and asked him in English (he was also serving as our translator) if the ad meant what I thought it did. He looked at the paper, nodded, and told me a bit more about it. After I considered for a second, I said, “Well, I’d like you take us there tomorrow morning then.†We spent a relatively quiet night in a downtown hotel where we acted the role of wealthy tourists. This, overall, was very easy to do, particularly when sampling the best wine available. The next morning, not exactly hung-over, but not exactly at the top of our game, we found ourselves deposited by our driver at a local city park, waiting at the edge of a soccer field with a handful of anxious parents and cute French teenage girls. “Some sort of tryouts?†Fleming volunteered. “Uh-huh.†I grunted. In a moment, I saw what I expected. He was there among the teenage boys trying their best to impress a mustached man in a coach’s uniform. The uniform said Paris on the back and looked sort of like it had an “F.C.†underneath. “The driver told me that a local club has open tryouts every few months. It’s free to hopeful youngsters, but he said the last time anyone actually made the team was last decade.†“I see. You think we might find something.†“Well, yeah. Your money. We could find that.†“What?†Fleming said, giving me a hard glance. Then he started looking closer at the players on the field. I did the same, and as they came closer to our side (running sprints), I said, “oh well, guess he’s probably already spent it now.†Fleming finally spotted him. “That little rat… wait, what do you mean? Spent it? How-†“He’s got new shoes,†I said. “In fact, he probably bought himself a new set of equipment altogether, if you were carrying much cash at all.†We watched for a bit longer. “He really is a fast little b*****d, isn’t he?†said Fleming after a while. He seemed moderately impressed. As the try-out continued, it didn’t seem like we were the only ones impressed. The coach in the uniform had called over two people in suits from the stands and was talking to them and gesturing. The boys were in some sort of shooting drill. Our pick-pocket seemed to be putting the ball exactly where he wanted. It went on like this for most of the morning, with just a few breaks. Some of the boys were clearly out of it, and shook hands with the coach before walking away exhausted. There weren’t more than a two or three dozen who were left in any sort of shape to continue. “Now what?†said Fleming. “We wait for our time,†I replied. We maneuvered to a good spot and tried to keep ourselves a bit hidden. At the end of the try-out, a few kids were called over by the coach. “Looks like he’s inviting them back for another try-out?†ventured Fleming. I just nodded. In time, the coach had worked out whatever details he could convey to the kids, and the waiting spectators were allowed onto the pitch. It was hugs and handshakes from the parents, with the girls kissing their boyfriends. Our pickpocket didn’t seem to have anybody waiting for him, so eventually he left the field coming out the side entrance. He walked towards where we waited. As he passed, I grabbed his arm. Fleming grabbed the other and we marched him towards the waiting car. “Bonjour,†I said, smiling my most inscrutable smile. He recognized us, and some degree of panic flashed over his features and he briefly tried to struggle free, before he became stoic when he realized it was useless. A few people gave us glances, but I smiled cheerfully and said, “Police.†After about a dozen paces, he was in the car between Fleming and me. “You’re not police,†he said in broken English, sneering, still trying to look for a way out. “I like your shoes,†said Fleming, without too much anger. “What do you want?†the pickpocket asked. “We’d like to recruit you. What’s your name?†I said. He sneered again. “I don’t need you. I work alone.†I grinned. Eventually, we were able to communicate our intentions. We left our pickpocket, David Lucas, with a new bankroll, a new passport, and specific instructions on what he needed to do to ensure he was on the right flight to join the team we were forming. We were up to three. As we made our way to the jet (we had agreed that it was time to speed travel up again), Fleming was fairly silent. He gave me a couple of glances then said, “I’ve been thinking. I was closer to the kid the whole time we chased him, and I never saw him drop anything.†“Oh?†“Yup,†he continued. “I’ve also been thinking about how you knew he had picked my pocket.†He gave me a look out of the corner of his eye. “You saw him do it.†“Oh?†I said again. “Yes.†He said, smoothly. “and I think you picked his pocket, while he was busy picking mine.†“Oh?†We were quiet for a few minutes before he said, “A talent agent, eh?†“It might not have been the fullest of descriptions.†Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saxonator Posted August 17, 2006 Share Posted August 17, 2006 Excellent so far attjen Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 17, 2006 Author Share Posted August 17, 2006 And thanks to everyone whose commented so far. These have been pretty lengthy posts I've had so far, so I really appreciate knowing that someone's reading. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Suma Posted August 17, 2006 Share Posted August 17, 2006 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by attjen: And thanks to everyone whose commented so far. These have been pretty lengthy posts I've had so far, so I really appreciate knowing that someone's reading. </div></BLOCKQUOTE> With such great work, who could resist reading, after all, we are all FMS regulars aren't we? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
gil Posted August 18, 2006 Share Posted August 18, 2006 so far! Keep it up Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Amaroq Posted August 18, 2006 Share Posted August 18, 2006 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by attjen: And thanks to everyone whose commented so far. These have been pretty lengthy posts I've had so far, so I really appreciate knowing that someone's reading. </div></BLOCKQUOTE> They've been giving me lengthy belly-laughs - utterly worth the investment to read! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ryan4Rovers Posted August 18, 2006 Share Posted August 18, 2006 And once I get recruited (still two people in front of me!) I'll be adding some story posts from Tony's point of view. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Big Pants Posted August 20, 2006 Share Posted August 20, 2006 It's truly witty writing on its own, let alone the fact that there's a whole otherworld reality in CMGQ backing it up Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
LokedOut420 Posted August 20, 2006 Share Posted August 20, 2006 I've finally read this, and I can't wait for more. Excellent stuff. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 21, 2006 Author Share Posted August 21, 2006 Traveling (concluded) This became the pattern after a while. Moving from country to country, trying to find any sort of decent soccer players with somewhat loose ideas of nationality; Always on the move, never really staying anywhere for very long. We never felt like we were being watched, but then we never wanted to tempt any sort of inquiry or discussion. The only time we returned to the same country more than once was if the first trip hadn’t been successful or if we needed to pass through on our way to somewhere else (or if we needed to trade some resources for other 'resources'). Fleming kept convincing people to ‘see things our way’. I kept finding ‘what they wanted’. Somewhere along the way we acquired “Soccer for Dummies†to teach ourselves a bit about the game. Sometime after that, we acquired “Soccer for pre-schoolersâ€. How long did this go on for? Days? Many. Weeks? Certainly. Months? A few, to be sure. Years? Thankfully, no. Fleming and I were already getting sick of sharing each others company on long trips, we probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer on the road. In Brazil, we found a player by the name of Roberto de Freitas or Xenão as he was known. A pretty decent player by most accounts, playing in midfield, but all his coaches kept telling us he would never see a minute in the Brazilian national sides. (Apparently there was some joke about how many caps he’d earn for Brazil. “Xenão†was the punch line.) (It probably works better in Portuguese.) He jumped at the chance to claim Qatari nationality at such an early age while so many Brazilians were lending their talents to other nations all across the globe much later in their lives. Everyone we talked to was overjoyed at us giving him the opportunity. Finding him was a piece of cake compared to some of the others. In Sweden, things were not quite as simple. Tony Landstrom was spending some time… let’s just say… ‘indoors,’ and only some serious negotiation from Fleming (“It seems you dropped this envelope. My, but it does seem heavy, I don’t think you’d want to lose thatâ€) and from me (“why yes, you do have a lovely singing voice… let me give you the number for a guy I know in New York, he’s constantly looking for Nordic men to join his stage shows… in fact, why don’t you call him right nowâ€) to spring him… er, allow him to join the Qatari team. He had no attachments in Stockholm, so jumped at the chance and the resources we offered him. In Germany, the prospect we were directed to was Wolfgang Baumann: Me: Are you Wolfgang Baumann? Baumann: My name is Max Power. (Hurried consultation with the recommending coaches who rolled their eyes and assured us that: yes, this was Baumann.) Fleming: Okay, Max Power, we hear you’re a pretty good footballer. Power: I am god footballer. I am super-footballer. I am uber-footballer. I am immortal footballer. Me: Riiiiiight… And what position do you play? Power: I play with freedom. I am uncontrollable. I am defense destroyer. I am goal making machine. I am finely tuned instrument. I am… Fleming: And how do you feel about playing for Qatar? Power: Nationality means nothing. Game means everything. Winning with precision means… Me: Okay. Sign on the dotted line. Take this passport. Fleming: (to me, quietly) Whatever this kid is on… I want some. Me: I can probably arrange that. On the US/Mexico border, it was young midfielder Carlos Fernandez who caught our eye (and the local authorities) as he tried to make his way south. After we consulted with his Mexico City coaches, and separated him from his predicament involving a Black Mercedes convertible that belonged to one 'S. Martin', we learned he was a pretty good soccer player and we convinced him that the sport cars in Qatar were just as nice as any in California. In Argentina, it was winger Walter Milito who took the opportunity we offered. (Especially after we told him how we had recruited a Brazilian player, and how we really didn’t expect to find anything in Argentina like a Brazilian player, and maybe he knew of some Brazilian players in Argentina, and how there weren’t any really attractive girls in Argentina like there were in Brazil, and how there could hardly be a rivalry between the two countries could there?) In Russia we signed up Vadim Golubev. (To be honest, considering the shady fellows who arranged for the meeting, it’s difficult to say who did more of the bargaining and convincing. We were actually able to leave by walking out, so that was a score for Fleming and me.) In Scotland, it was defender David Watson who joined up. His interview went quickly: Me: Really, it’s up to you, who do you think will make the World Cup first, Scotland or Qatar? Watson: Where do I sign? In Spain, another defender Jon Ortiz was just as simple: Fleming: Who do you think will actually win a major trophy first, Spain or Qatar? Ortiz: So… do you actually have the passports with you? In Belgium… no wait, really we were in Belgium? Why did we go there again? Do they even play soccer in Belgium? Well, we must have and then been eager to leave, because somehow Patrick Vergeylen ended up on our list of recruits. The defender has talent… or so we are telling everyone. In England, we found keeper Jim Heald who told us he’d play for anybody else besides his home country. “Would you want to play for a team that’s cursed to lose on penalties?†he asked. Now, if I’ve somehow given the impression that this was the order to which we traveled to the various countries, I apologize. It frankly has become a blur. We certainly visited them all, contacted translators, spoke to coaches, wheeled and dealed, and spread around our resources with liberal applications. Two others, Portuguese goalkeeper Henrique Fernandez and Dutch defensive midfielder Frank Kerkhof got recruited in there somewhere as well, but exactly when I’m not quite sure. We were even informed of two young Qataris who might have decent talent: Mohina Al-Dosary and Hussein Al Kherboush. The last recruit that I do vaguely remember was American Rob Watkins who actually already had Qatari citizenship (thanks to his dad working for Standard Oil in the country for several years). We were fairly desperate by that point (in America, and oddly uncomfortable on our home soil after so long in the rest of the world, perhaps it was just the Interpol bulletin we heard was circulating) so when he winked knowingly and said he’d get himself to Qatar for training, we just nodded and hoped for the best. This last recruit came just a few days before we were called into another non-descript office. (Manned, of course, by a few guys in pin-striped suits.) This time Fleming and I were shown into a room with a TV showing what appeared to be a live news conference. An English translation was broadcast over the Arabic <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content"> “Although pleased with qualification from the first Stage of the Asian World Cup Qualifying, the Qatar Football Association believes that the time has come to introduce new and young players into the squad for the more difficult coming rounds and future competitions. Today we have the pleasure to announce that for Qatar’s continued attempt to progress to the World Cup, we have appointed two specialist managers for the national side, who will be building the squad from a youthful foundation: Eric Fleming and Max Jenkins.†</div></BLOCKQUOTE> End of Part One Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saxonator Posted August 21, 2006 Share Posted August 21, 2006 Haha, brilliant so far . I want what Max Power was on Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
LokedOut420 Posted August 21, 2006 Share Posted August 21, 2006 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">In Germany, the prospect we were directed to was Wolfgang Baumann: Me: Are you Wolfgang Baumann? Baumann: My name is Max Power. (Hurried consultation with the recommending coaches who rolled their eyes and assured us that: yes, this was Baumann.) Fleming: Okay, Max Power, we hear you’re a pretty good footballer. Power: I am god footballer. I am super-footballer. I am uber-footballer. I am immortal footballer. Me: Riiiiiight… And what position do you play? Power: I play with freedom. I am uncontrollable. I am defense destroyer. I am goal making machine. I am finely tuned instrument. I am… Fleming: And how do you feel about playing for Qatar? Power: Nationality means nothing. Game means everything. Winning with precision means… Me: Okay. Sign on the dotted line. Take this passport. Fleming: (to me, quietly) Whatever this kid is on… I want some. Me: I can probably arrange that. </div></BLOCKQUOTE> \o/\o/\o/ This is going to be great! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 22, 2006 Author Share Posted August 22, 2006 Part Two: World Cup Qualifying (Asia) Second Round Group Stage Fleming and I blinked a couple times and then looked at each other. “What?†I finally splurted. “They’re crazy!†said Fleming. One of the pin-striped suits cocked an eyebrow, and said, “I would ask you to refrain from saying such things. Your employers certainly have considered the matter carefully. Consider it from their point of view.†I did. Fleming just looked shocked that the pin-striped fellow spoke perfect English. I said, thinking aloud, “So the QFA sends out to find recruits. We do that. Fair enough, we’re the one risking ourselves. Same strategy for the team then? We try and manage the squad… but if we fail, they bring in a higher standard of coach and they look brilliant? Whatever we do, that gives the young players time to settle and get accustomed to being Qatari. We’re the ones in the spotlight? We’re the ones who take the blame, not them. I can see that.†Fleming nodded, “Yeah, sounds about right. Now what?†He added, directing the question to the man who had spoken. The man just gestured to the door, which led to the car, which led to the jet, which we had to assume led to Qatar. On board we found a new set of clothes, matching coaching outfits with the QFA logo on the back, and an assorted set of managerial tools, books, charts, and reports. “..but no schedule that I can find,†said Fleming. “I wish I knew how soon we were going to be asked to take charge.†“Well, we are going to have to estimate it being soon. I can’t imagine they’d be in such a rush to bring us back to the country otherwise.†“Any idea what the format of… what was the competition again?†said Fleming. “World Cup… though probably not the finals,†I said, leafing through the books on the table next to my seat. “Qualifying of some sort?†“I suppose.†Fleming thought for a moment, “Er… do you have any idea which one of us is supposed to be the main guy and which the assistant?†“Nope.†I looked at him. He nodded, and we rock, paper, scissored for it. I went rock, he went paper. “Blast!†I shouted. “Congratulations!†he laughed, “you’re the man now! Mind your head! That next cool breeze might just be the axe!†We passed about an hour trying to find anything valuable within our new set of information. Fleming looked for the recent reports about our recruits. I tried to understand a little bit about tactics. “What you got?†Fleming asked after he had sorted the reports into some fashion. The fashion being: floor, chair, table, in his lap, and some crumpled up and tossed in a basket in the corner. “Er… I think we’re going to play a 4-4-2 formation. Seems to be the most commonly used,†I said. “4-4-2?†he paused, “that’s only 10 players isn’t it?†I pointed at the diagram in the book I was holding. “Well, it’s called a 4-4-2 but really I guess it’s a 1-4-4-2. The goalkeeper doesn’t seem to make a difference in the tactics.†“Oh. All right,†he said coolly. “Um,†I flipped through a couple of pages of a different book, “this one says many teams play with an attacking central midfielder and with a defensive central midfielder.†“And?†“That makes it a diamond.†Fleming just gave me an indescribable look. “So at least we have a formation. How are the players looking?†He pointed at the trash. “Those players aren’t much. Some of them have played for the Qatari team in the previous games, but I figure we’d better only use them in emergency situations otherwise we’d make ourselves look bad.†He pointed at the floor. “Forwards.†“Or strikers.†I added. He gave me the look again, before continuing, “We apparently found four kids who can play there. Which is good so we can have all four play together.†I showed him the diagram again, this time turning it right side up. “Or…†he continued after a pause, “we have players who can provide cover at the position. At any rate, they are Papad… Georgi… forget it, Gigi Papa who got picked up by Barnsley.†He consulted one of the pages on the floor. “They play in England according to this report. Which, by the way, reminds me, did you know we have a support scouting staff now? To report on our players? The memo is around here somewhere.†He continued, “the second player we have is David Lucas, who got signed by Guincamp, which is in France, appropriately. The third is Max Power,†he rolled his eyes, “that German space cadet, who was signed by a German club called Mannheim.†“And the fourth?†“Well, to my surprise, it’s that Vadim Golubev fellow… we really need to come up with a nickname for him… apparently, he’s actually not a bad player after all…†“Thank god for that…†“… and he was signed by French club Monaco. Errrr… this report says that the coaches there think he might be useful as a utility player, since he’s able to play in central midfield too. All the other Qatari forwards I’ve got reports on are only vaguely talented according to our scouts… ‘our scouts’… that is so odd.†“Yup.†Once again I pondered how exactly I got myself into this. Oh yeah, right. “And midfielders?†“Well, we certainly have a lot of back-up players. Unfortunately, one of our hopeful signings Kerkhof is not quite as good as we wanted. This report,†he waved it, “says he was signed by Telstar in Holland, but the coaches there aren’t real impressed. Add in a batch of so-so Qatari locals, and we are really left with 5 true midfielder. Xenão a defensive type… probably good for that formation… Tony Landstrom who plays left, right, or center, Carlos Fernandez who plays left, right, or center, and Walter Milito who plays, left or right, but not center. Golubev provides a bit of depth, as does Gigi Papa, though only in the offensive midfielder role.†“And have any of them signed club contracts?†“Let me check… Xenão signed for a German side, Magdeburg. Don’t know anything about them. Landstrom signed for Le Mans. The other two don’t have contracts yet.†“Well, can we see what we can do for them?†Fleming nodded, “Oh yes, that’s on another memo somewhere. ‘Unofficial representatives for club negotiations’ or something. Guess we can help our players get better contracts on occasion.†“Good.†I made a few more notes on the paper I was using. “Defenders: Alessandro di Chiara, signed by Sturm Graz. Which is good.†“Why?†“Why what?†“Why is it good?†“They are one of the best teams in Austria.†“Ah… really?†“No idea, but that’s what this report says.†He continued, “and Jon Ortiz signed by Hercules… Spain, David Watson, signed by Brentford… England, and um, Patrick Vergeylen signed by Vitesse…†he pushed some papers around in the chair… “that’s Holland.†“My they do get around don’t they.†Something struck me. “Wait… didn’t we recruit an American player too? Rob Watkins?†“Ah yes,†he picked up another paper, “‘Has not been sighted since initial contact.’ He appears to have disappeared.†“Oh, dear. That could be bad.†“Yes… particularly since we’ll be relying on some questionable back-up players, with Al Kherboush looking like the best of the few young options.†“Goalkeepers?†“Well, Henrique Fernandes might be a waste. He was signed by French club Creteil… but this scout report says he’s not going to be worth much without serious improvement. Jim Heald seems like our man, and he was signed by Lyon… another French club. If anything happens to him, we’ll be looking for back-ups among the nationals of Qatar. Mohina Al-Dosary might be useful. He’s actually moved off to Japan to play for a team there.†I scribbled a few more notes. “Is that it then?†“Basically.†“So,†I said gingerly, “is anybody actually, you know, playing?†“Xenão†is, though we’ve got no information about that. di Chiara made his debut and played very well in a game against… Olympiakos Nicosia.†“Sounds Greek,†I said. “Um… it is. Some sort of continental competition. And the only other player to play so far is Patrick Vergeylen.†“Him?†“Yeah, I’m surprised to. He even was credited with an assist in a 4-1 win for Vitesse over a team called Nac.†“Nac?†“That’s what it says. N… A… C… Er, it looks like he picked up an injury in the last few games too.†I scratched out Vergeylen’s name, and wrote down a different one. I showed Fleming a new diagram, with some names in certain positions. He made some suggestions. We may not have any idea when the next game was, or who were playing, or what the format of the competition was, but we had an almost complete starting line-up: <pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> Heald Watson ? di Chiara Ortiz Xenão Landstrom Milito Fernandez Power G P </pre> It was a start. At least. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 22, 2006 Author Share Posted August 22, 2006 First batch of game screenshots Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saxonator Posted August 22, 2006 Share Posted August 22, 2006 Haha, great stuff attjen . KUTGW Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Barnsley Posted August 22, 2006 Share Posted August 22, 2006 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content"> Gigi Papa who got picked up by Barnsley </div></BLOCKQUOTE> Oh god.. il put him down at once, i didnt mean to pick him up like that Haha, Attjen just caught up with it all, and i must say why dont you turn it into a book and sell it at waterstones for £9.97. Brilliant laugh KUTGW mate Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saxonator Posted August 22, 2006 Share Posted August 22, 2006 Could even make WHSmiths if you're lucky Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Suma Posted August 22, 2006 Share Posted August 22, 2006 At least Scotdhino has a future... Hopefully, I'll make it to the top 11 sonner than later in Qatar Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
sammayel666 Posted August 22, 2006 Share Posted August 22, 2006 Brilliant Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
sammayel666 Posted August 22, 2006 Share Posted August 22, 2006 We are actually ranked 75th? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
_Raul_ Posted August 23, 2006 Share Posted August 23, 2006 A 9 for the 675k Di Chiara in that Sturm Graz match Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
gil Posted August 23, 2006 Share Posted August 23, 2006 Ortizinho in the 1st XI Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 23, 2006 Author Share Posted August 23, 2006 World Cup Qualifying (continued) We arrived in Qatar. Somewhat tired, somewhat nervous. It was our first visit. That’s right, we’d never actually set foot in our new homeland until that moment. We were guided off the jet towards a waiting car. Inside were a few more folders full of papers. Fleming and I both focused on the one marked “World Cup qualifying schedule,†but he got to it first. I chose the one marked “opposition scoutingâ€. We began to flip through them as we drove out of the airport towards… er, wherever. “So we’re in the 2nd stage now then, Qatar qualified out of the 1st round group,†Fleming said taking out a page. “Not a bad job by the nationals in the 1st stage.†He showed me the table: <pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> First Round Group 7: Pos Team Pld Won Drn Lst For Ag Won Drn Lst For Ag Pts ------------------- 1st Q Qatar 6 1 1 1 2 2 2 1 0 3 1 11 ------------------- 2nd Oman 6 2 1 0 5 2 0 2 1 0 1 9 3rd Singapore 6 1 1 1 2 1 1 0 2 3 6 7 4th Philippines 6 1 1 1 3 2 0 1 2 1 4 5 </pre> “And now our group is with Iran, Kuwait, U.A.E., and Nepal.†Another table: <pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> Second Round Group 1 Pos Team Pld Won Drn Lst For Ag Won Drn Lst For Ag Pts -------------------------- 1st Iran 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 -------------------------- 2nd Kuwait 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 -------------------------- 3rd Nepal 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4th Qatar 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 5th U.A.E. 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 </pre> I nodded, flipping through my folder to the page I had just seen. “Iran is the big challenge according to this. Quite a few quality players and several good results over the years. The others don’t seem very highly regarded… though this page says ‘playing in Nepal poses significant athletic challenges.’†“The other group is China, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Lebanon, and Saudi Arabia. It looks like the winners of either group advance directly to the finals, while the runners-up have to play each other and then play against… um, a European team. That seems odd.†I just shrugged. “Who knows? China and Saudi Arabia have to be the favorite there, going by these reports.†Fleming suddenly went ashen white. He turned to me and coughed out, “Max… what day is today?†“August 17th… why?†I asked. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.†He handed over a sheet of paper: <pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> ============================= 2001 Fixtures ============================= Date Opposition Ven Competition Res Attend Scorers -------------------------------- 30.4.01 Philippines H World Cup Quals (ASI) 1st Rnd 0:0 25980 4.5.01 Singapore A World Cup Quals (ASI) 1st Rnd 1:0 8346 Al-Khlaiwi 7.5.01 Oman H World Cup Quals (ASI) 1st Rnd 1:0 39974 Al-Shahrani 11.5.01 Philippines A World Cup Quals (ASI) 1st Rnd 1:0 10528 Madani 18.5.01 Singapore H World Cup Quals (ASI) 1st Rnd 1:2 32396 Madani 25.5.01 Oman A World Cup Quals (ASI) 1st Rnd 1:1 24609 Al-Khlaiwi 17.8.01 U.A.E. A World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- 31.8.01 Iran H World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- 7.9.01 Kuwait A World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- 14.9.01 Nepal H World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- 21.9.01 U.A.E. H World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- 5.10.01 Iran A World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- 12.10.01 Kuwait H World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- 19.10.01 Nepal A World Cup Quals (ASI) 2nd Rnd --- ----- </pre> “Oh… bugger,†I said. “Um, driver, what country is this?†“This is the United Arab Emirates,†the driver said over his shoulder. The rest of the all too brief ride was spent in our rapidly scouring the papers for any reasonable info about the U.A.E. side we would be facing in, oh, about an hour. We arrived at the stadium, already getting very full (the “Zayed Sports City†stadium, I was to later learn, capacity of over 40000), were shuffled into the changing rooms, and found ourselves facing an assembled assortment of motley players from all around the world. There were about 25 or so. One of our pinstriped handlers gave me a list: <pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> No Name Position(s) Nat Born Age Caps Gls Wages Expires Value ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - Al Begami, Mohammed Sheli D C QAT 13.4.80 21 6 - £300 10.2.06 £40K - Al Beshry, Hussein D R QAT 2.12.81 19 1 - £900 17.2.04 £14K - Al Dosari, Sami M C QAT 27.10.74 26 4 - £500 14.2.02 £30K - Al Shopaky, Omer Saleh M RC QAT 15.9.72 28 5 - £300 18.2.03 £45K - Al Traifi, Fuad Anwar D R QAT 9.9.73 27 3 - £850 2.2.07 £14K - Al-Dosary, Mohina GK QAT 21.9.83 17 - - £500 17.12.05 £400K - Al-Jehani, Ahmed Doukhi AM L QAT 20.4.81 20 - - £500 17.2.05 £12K - Al-Owairan, Khalid AM L QAT 10.8.76 25 - - £500 5.2.03 £12K - Di Chiara, Alessandro SW/D C ITA 4.5.83 18 - - £525 7.2.05 £675K - Fernandes, Henrique GK POR 19.3.83 18 - - £90 9.6.05 £45K - Gigi Papa F C GRE 4.4.85 16 - - £140 14.6.05 £325K - Golubev, Vadim DM/F C RUS 4.9.83 17 - - £575 12.6.05 £700K - Heald, Jim GK ENG 20.2.84 17 - - £675 18.6.05 £450K - Kerkhof, Frank DM LC HOL 7.5.83 18 - - £65 7.6.04 £20K - Landström, Tony M RLC SWE 5.10.84 16 - - £150 9.6.05 £160K - Lucas, David S C FRA 7.9.84 16 - - £375 10.6.05 £700K - Madani, Ahmed Doukhi S C QAT 22.11.76 24 8 3 £4.3K 16.2.07 £350K - Max Power S C GER 19.4.84 17 - - £150 22.6.04 £95K - Milito, Walter AM RL ARG 4.9.83 17 - - - - Free - Ortiz, Jon D RLC ESP 9.8.85 16 - - £190 10.6.05 £65K - Fernandez, Carlos AM RLC MEX 17.9.84 16 - - - - Free - Vergeylen, Patrick D RL BEL 25.11.83 17 - - £525 13.6.05 £550K - Watkins, Rob D LC USA 20.9.83 17 - - - - Free - Watson, David D RC SCO 10.8.85 16 - - £120 12.6.05 £55K - Xenao DM RC BRA 9.1.83 18 - - £70 2.6.04 £45K </pre> There was an awkward silence. The Qatari nationals looked generally displeased, though there were handful that had amused expressions. The youngsters looked generally a bit nervous, though mainly a bit confused. Scattered around the room were a handful of what appeared to be, only naturally, translators. We had our own lurking over our shoulder. I coughed, “Right. Um…†I dug the diagram of the formation out of my pocket and tried to straighten and flatten it out into some reasonable shape, “here’s how where going to be playing.†I looked around the room for something to attach it too, found a suitable spot, and put it up. It was at this point that a man covered in dust from head to foot, with a greasy streak from his navel to his left ankle walked into the room. “Sorry, I’m late,†he said. “I’ll just wash up and get changed.†“Who the… what the devil....†I spluttered. Fleming just shook his head. “That’s Watkins… and I really1 don’t think we want to know.†“Right.†I said. I wrote Watkins on the diagram over the question mark. I read off the names and told them their positions and asked, “Any questions?†The translators jabbered at their respective players. One of the players at the end of the room raised his hand, spoke a few words, and then his translator said, “What about him?†I looked at the player. “Is that Golubev?†I muttered to Fleming. He nodded, “I think so.†“Right. Ah, you are on the bench, as well as Lucas, Vergeylen, and um…†I gestured around the room, “the rest of you. Any other questions?†Another hand. Another translator, “Any tactical instructions for the players?†“Uh… what would you like?†I ventured. A few laughs, and then the translators spoke, and then there were a few more. Guess that went over well. “Nice job,†said Fleming with a roll of his eyes. “Kick-off in 15 minutes,†a voice announced from somewhere. Both Fleming and I just replied with a four-letter word. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 23, 2006 Author Share Posted August 23, 2006 World Cup Qualifying (continued U.A.E. vs Qatar I chewed on my nails. Fleming crossed his arms and tried to not to look concerned. The players on the pitch, and on the bench look a little more relaxed. The whistle blew. "This is the first game I've ever watched in person," Fleming said. With my teeth nibbling a bit of nail on my little finger, I just grunted a yes. About 5 minutes in, and my nerves settled a bit. "We look pretty good," I said. Fleming just grinned. Ortiz passed the ball up to Milito who headed the ball into path of Gigi Papa. The striker half-volleyed the ball with power and direction... but the U.A.E. keeper streched well to push the ball wide. "Well," I said. From the ensuing corner, the U.A.E. defense had to scramble to prevent the striker from getting on the end of a Landstrom pass. "Hunh," said Fleming. Things were looking promising. Fernandez took a player on, went past him, then played a nifty give and go with Max Power. The midfielder hit a hard shot towards the upper corner, but it hit the bar and went out of play. Fleming and I were on our feet with the rest of the bench. "That was close," Fleming and I both said. U.A.E.'s Madani attempted a flamboyant over-the-head bicycle kick after a chip into the area, but it flew well over the goal. In the 23rd a scramble of players in the box, and somehow the ball popped loose. Fernandez got to it first, turned, and fired home a shot into the wide open net. The U.A.E. keeper was no-where to be seen. We jumped up and shouted, as the player's celebrated. Fernandez just ran around wildly in the middle of the field until di Chiara grabbed him and flung him into the air. "Now that was unexpected!" shouted Fleming. "And fast too!" I yelled. "Speedy, even," He yelled back. "Speedy... Speedy Fernandez!" When the player's had finally settled down, the game did too.... lots of movement, but little action worth noting. When the assistant referee raised his little board with the number 4 on it ("4 what?" Fleming and I asked), it looked like halftime was nearly upon us. From a throw-in from Watson, Landstrom turned with the ball and ran at the U.A.E. defense. His ball across the area didn't look very dangerous until Max Power appeared out of nowhere, unmarked, and the German ripped a low shot past the U.A.E. keeper. Power ran to the corner flag, pointed at himself, and flexed his arms. "Yes!" we shouted. U.A.E. came out from the restart looking for a goal, but their striker put a shot wide, just before the whistle blew. After a brief half-time break ("Now what?" asked Fleming), we were back on the side of the field. "Golubev," I said, "are you ready to go on for Power?" He did. I hadn't meant right then, but oh well. Milito forced a good save from the U.A.E. keeper just after we restarted, but about 10 minutes in and Madani scored for U.A.E. to make the score 2-1 in our favor. Milito, again with a header, forced another good save after being set up by Xenao. ("I'm surprised they even pass to one another," said Fleming with a smirk.) Xenao forced a save himself a few minutes later, thanks to a Watkins cross. I was starting to get nervous again, we had started well, but U.A.E. looked like scoring at anytime. The Qatar defense went missing at about the hour mark and Al-Muwallid hit the bar with a full volley for U.A.E. "Uh-oh," remarked Fleming. I tried to ignore him. Gigi Papa had a header that looked goalbound, until it drifted wide, and after Fleming suggested I go ahead and put Lucas in, I did. Golubev hit a shot after the substitution, but well wide. Then Lucas jumped well to head a ball, but over the bar. I had my fingers crossed, Fleming was glancing at his watch every two seconds, "hurry-up, hurry-up," he kept saying. Finally... the whistle blew. We had just negotiated our way to a 2-1 win. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Saxonator Posted August 23, 2006 Share Posted August 23, 2006 Brilliant stuff attjen keep it up. Speedy Fernandez!! \o/ Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ryan4Rovers Posted August 23, 2006 Share Posted August 23, 2006 Woo! Assist! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
LokedOut420 Posted August 23, 2006 Share Posted August 23, 2006 Game Winner Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Barnsley Posted August 23, 2006 Share Posted August 23, 2006 Good result and good story Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
sammayel666 Posted August 23, 2006 Share Posted August 23, 2006 Excellent first result Beginner's luck for Jenkins & Fleming? Am a little curious as to where the prefix has gone in al-Milito's name though - he's just trying to fit in over there Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 24, 2006 Author Share Posted August 24, 2006 several players nicknames haven't been revealed in the story yet... don't spoil these important plot points! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
BobBev Posted August 24, 2006 Share Posted August 24, 2006 A quality read attjen Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 24, 2006 Author Share Posted August 24, 2006 World Cup Qualifying (continued) So we'd won our first game, had our celebration (in about 10 different languages), and traveled to the airport. It was there that we parted ways with most of the first team. They all boarded a plane to Frankfurt, Germany to make their return connections to their respective clubs. Rob Watkins, Walter Milito, and the newly dubbed Speedy Fernandez boarded the jet to ride with us back to Qatar. Since those three hadn't found clubs, they'd be training with some Qatari clubs (arrangements were already made) until the national team was called back together in about 10 days. Milito and Speedy chatted in the forward part of the cabin, in Spanish of course, and seemed to be in relatively good moods. Watkins, clearly tired after the game (and whatever adventure had caused him to show up so late), went to the rear of the jet, and sprawled across a few seats and promptly began to snore. Once during the trip, the two up front pointed back at Watkins, looked at us, and said together Oily Pants before cracking up. "So what happens next?" asked Fleming, a few minutes after this happened. "I'm not sure," I said. "I guess we go to Qatar," I looked around for one of the pin-stripes and asked, "We are going to Qatar this time right?" He nodded. "And then we prepare for the next game." "Right," said Fleming firmly. After a pause he added, "and what exactly does that entail?" "Beats me. Our next game is against Iran, I think they are playing one week from today, so we'll scout that... or have someone do that for us (Iran won that one, by the way)... and then we'll call back all the team to get ready" "Right. And in the meantime?" The meantime was spent getting accustomed a bit to living in Qatar. Doha, to be precise. We made ourselves at home in the apartments which the QFA had acquired for us, tried to get used to the city, where actually almost everyone spoke English. Construction everywhere. And not just small structures, but enormous buildings. It's not the most exciting place in the world. Good beaches though. Of course, you could say the whole country was a beach, but... I've never been any place, anywhere any the world that gave the distinct impression of so much.... money. The two weeks passed quickly. As the game approached, Fleming and I tried to look like we knew what we were doing. The players, on the other hand, tried to look like they didn't know that they knew that we didn't know what we were doing. (Got that?) We announced our starting line-up: <pre class="ip-ubbcode-code-pre"> Heald Watson Watkins di Chiara Vergeylen Xenão Landstrom Milito Fernandez Power G P </pre> Which seemed okay to everyone. Lucas' club training with Guingcamp seemed to keep him a bit tired, so he told us he was content to come of the bench. Vergeylen was chosen just because he hadn't gotten his first cap, and it just seemed right. Golubev... well we just really didn't know what to do with him. In the team meeting before hand, we noticed that most of the squad was calling Watkins "Oily Pants". "Guess it stuck," shrugged Fleming. Qatar vs. Iran "Why do all those Iranian players look Spanish* to me?" remarked Fleming as the game begun. "Is there something wrong with my eyes?" "I think so." I looked at him closely. Nope, couldn't tell what he was on. In the opening minute, Gigi Papa hit the dirt in the Iran penalty area, and screamed as though he'd been sawn in half. The referee just looked at him disgustedly, and let play continue. Our players looked up for the game, but disjointed in their play. Eventually they'd have better understanding with each other. Iran forced the ball into our half multiple times, shooting wide once, and after winning a freekick, flashing a shot over the bar. After winning another freekick, Iran made the most of the opportunity as their striker outjumped Oily Pants (yup, they've got us doing it too), and headed past Heald for a 1-0 lead. Iran seemed content with that scoreline, and with a little more room to build up play, Max Power drove a lot shot that was saved, after having been set up by Gigi Papa. Iran was still getting chances, but Di Chiara was playing with a great deal of maturity, and keeping things calm. Heald had to save well on one-full volley, but he made it look easy. Landstrom had a few headers that went goalbound, but not with enough power to trouble the Iranian keeper. We went into halftime, and out again, not outplayed, but not really showing that we could find a goal. Lucas came on for Power, who fumed a bit, but nothing to serious, as even he admitted he wasn't "uber" in the first half. In the 57th, Heald had to palm away a header from about 6 yards from goal in an instinctive save that impressed even the Iranian head coach, who gave us the thumbs up. Milito was beginning to find that he could control the game a bit from his side of the field, and he put in a ball to the near post that Speedy nearly turned on target, but he had been squeezed between two players to get to the ball. "Things are looking up," said Fleming. I could get used to watching soccer like this, it was fun. Well, funner than the nightlife in Doha, at any rate. In the 65th, Di Chiara calmly controlled a loose Iran clearance, and with calm deliberation, hit a long ball to the right for Watson. Watson hit the ball into the penalty area first time, and Landstrom again got the ball with his head, this time, he hit it backwards to Speedy. Our Mexican tapped it forward again to Gigi Papa, who turned on the ball and struck a shot in one movement... and it went in. Our youngsters ran around like madman again, with Fleming and I hoping around like James Brown. Oh yes, we felt good. The Iranian team looked quite put out by this indignity, and started to send everyone forward again to get their lead back. It nearly backfired, as Speedy fell twice in the box, under fairly rough challenges too, but the referee was having none of it. Golubev came on for Xenao (who'd had a quiet, but strong performance) and Ortiz came on for a struggling Vergeylen. Now the players were all about holding on for a draw. Di Chiara was... well, brilliant. Fleming and I tried to count the number of tackles he had, but gave up after reaching 10. Heald had to make another point-blank save after an Iranian player was unmarked in our penalty area, and then he had to parry away a header that would have given Iran the win just before the whistle. It hadn't been pretty, but we'd held our own against the best team in the group. A 1-1 draw was good for us. *This is the first time I've ever noticed this, but when not using real players in 01/02, the Iranian team gets Spanish names. Strange. It happened in the other game I have too. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
attjen Posted August 24, 2006 Author Share Posted August 24, 2006 oops, meant to say thanks Bob & everyone else. (Bob: You could still choose a player if you want in, check over in the CM forum) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Suma Posted August 24, 2006 Share Posted August 24, 2006 Nice going so far! KUTGW Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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