Soccer Supremo - A Sports Progression Fantasy

5.

Tuesday, July 11

Champions League First Qualifying Round, Second Leg: Saltney Town versus Pestis

The European Championships were over, but a surprising number of the participants had stuck around to sample the manifold delights of the British Isles. Owl sanctuaries in Norwich, a Beatles bus ride in Liverpool (two hours), a tour based around the great bands to come out of Manchester (a sixteen-day commitment), the Bude supermarket tunnel. And, to cap it off, a match at Saltney Town.

The match was a sequel, in a way, to my Mission Impossible heist in Budapest, so while this one would be a low-budget affair with a far less polished script, it hadn’t been hard to persuade people to come to watch. Curiosity abounded.

As I emerged from the tunnel for the last time, the stadium looked two-thirds full. That made me blink - last I had checked, we had only sold about fourteen hundred tickets. What had Bonnie done to get another 6 or 700 in? Some of the spectators were wearing football tops, but many were in vivid outfits and luminous face paint, many were waving pride flags, giving the stadium a flamboyant, fabulous vibe. There were about 20 dudes sitting together in one block who were dressed as rainbows. Who would do such a thing?

There was so much colour, so much to look at that it was hard to pick out individuals, but I spotted Jost Benn and Zoran Bratko sitting side by side. Jost had scored the most important goal during my time in Germany, and he had played well in Euro 28, dragging Austria into the quarter finals. Zoran’s Slovenia also reached the quarters, and the man himself nearly won the golden boot, the award for the top scorer, which was impressive seeing as he played two fewer matches than the eventual winner.

In the Mission Impossible match, I had changed my clothes at half time and during the second half, I had slowly revealed my new outfit. That explained why, on a balmy evening in Wales, a camera dude ignored the dozens of celebrities and superstar players and planted himself in front of me, waiting to see what I had up my sleeve this time...

Joe Anka was in charge of the playlist and I had given him a very simple, two-word instruction: gay bangers. Mika’s super-fun Grace Kelly came to an end, replaced by the Champions League anthem. We had to play it - competition rules - but I had given thought to turning the volume down to the absolute minimum. I decided against such pettiness; this would be the high point in some of my players’ careers. Sure, I wanted to punish UEFA for their cowardice and complicity in welcoming Pestis back into the football family, but I could do that in other ways.

I scanned the pitch and reviewed the sitch. A couple of seasons ago, Pestis had been CA 125 and on the rise as a club. Backed by serious ’investment’ from ’sources close to the government’, they had been improving year-on-year and had attracted a big-name head coach. (The abysmal Lee Kennedy, who was the front-runner for the vacant Spurs job.) Being unable to host UEFA matches for a season and suffering an early exit from last season’s Champions League qualifiers had left a serious dent in the finances of Pestis, and Hungary’s football-mad dictator was less keen to be so connected to the sport. With less money to throw around, Pestis had lost some talent, and that was reflected in their average CA for this match: 119.

My actions in Budapest had not been completely in vain. I had made a small difference.

I clicked my neck left and right. Knocking them out of the CL in the first qualifier would be another blow.

Saltney’s average, excluding me, was 129.2. We were ten points higher, had home advantage, and my strategic plan for the match was mint.

For the final time, I stared at the Bench Boost option. We needed to win by three goals just to take this match to penalties, but while it was important that we beat Pestis as a fuck-you to their Great Leader and to UEFA, the real aim was to get through four rounds of qualifiers. Last season, we had tripped at the final hurdle. The toughest tests were yet to come.