Soccer Supremo - A Sports Progression Fantasy

I shook my head. Cut this club and it would bleed politics. ”Who’s Hoggy?”

”The trainer of Bayern Zwei.”

”Right, yeah, I knew that.”

”He’s coming this way, with Diane Berger.”

I kept my sigh internal - I think. ”Briggy, can you get me an apple before you go papaya hunting?”

”Sure. What about him?”

I tutted. The kid was still there. He had explained the situation brilliantly - me sending him packing would be to his benefit. Obviously he thought he was hot shit and would be able to wow me despite getting off to a bad start. ”Dude. I’m trying to win matches so your club’s head coach can relax. If you’re on board with that, you can stay, but you won’t be going to Italy. You’re right about one thing - your redemption arc doesn’t involve me.”

Briggy said, ”Doesn’t everyone get a chance to impress you? Isn’t that the point of this morning?”

I tried to process what she was saying. The point of the morning was to get the lads to run around so I would see the magical numbers that would appear over their heads but if Briggy was thinking there was some kind of dog-eat-dog gladiator selection planned, the lads would probably be thinking that, too. By the time I’d thought about how to handle it, Briggy had gone, and Stefan had melted back into the group.

Diane Berger and Hoggy arrived. He wanted a handshake; I turned it into a fistbump. Germans loved shaking hands. It wasn’t just one when they arrived and one before they departed, I’d even seen one guy go to the bathroom and give handshakes when he returned. Mission accomplished! For someone teetering on the edge of being a full-blown germaphobe, that part of the culture was maddening. After some pleasantries, Diane said, ”Hoggy is here to help if you need it.”

”Oh? That’s cool.” My original plan - for me to lead a quick warm-up before the lads played a match - involved getting up from the bucket. If I could stay on the bucket, I’d be a happy chappie. ”Yeah, that would actually be really helpful. Thanks.”

Hoggy had a deep, flat voice that didn’t match his bushy eyebrows. ”It is no problem. My remit is to help to prepare players for the first team. I am very interested to learn what you think of them. Also, I am here to ensure you do not do anything to break my players.”

That made me laugh, a quick, low-key HA!, but he didn’t reciprocate. ”You’re not joking,” I said.

”No.” He wasn’t being a dick, just saying what was on his mind. ”I have heard a lot of things about you. Mostly negative.”

”Are you Dutch?”

”I am not Dutch. I am Bavarian. We also say our opinion.”

”Okay, that’s fun. Everyone here gets to blast me non-stop but if I say what I think it gets printed in Bild ten seconds later under the headline OMFG This Guy Is So Rude, He’s Such a Meanie.” I felt anger rise in me, which wasn’t useful in this scenario. ”Please get the lads over here,” I said. So I don’t have to get up, I nearly added.

Hoggy called out and made it happen. Some of the ’lads’ looked older than me, but the profiles weren’t showing yet so I didn’t know for sure. ”I can translate,” said Hoggy.

”Hey, guys. Thanks for coming.” I left a tiny break for the translation. ”I’m Max. I want to look at the options I have available to me during this time.” Break.

This was going to be pretty interesting. I had studied the first team, done my homework, but hadn’t really expected to need the reserves. I knew some basics. Most were 20 or 21 years old. One of them was very highly rated and if the media were to be believed, I would soon see that Real Madrid wanted to sign him. He was only 17, though.

”I would like you to warm up and then play a quick match.” Break. ”I’m sure you have seen a lot and heard a lot about me. That I’m a shit player, that I’m a good player, that I was a good player but now I’m shit. Let’s agree I’m somewhere between good and shit.” The players with better English laughed, while the others laughed a moment later as Hoggy finished translating. ”Same as a manager. Good? Shit? Shit but with a good haircut?”

More laughs.