Football singularity

Chapter 812: Chapter 812 Press Conference

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#Continue from where I left off:

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[18-06-2021 | Homeground, Nurenberg, Germany | 14:15 CEST]

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May: Babe, I just saw your AD all the way in New York.

May: How is it that I’m the model and you’re in Times Square before me?

May: Not fair

May: SOOOO Proud though, only bigger and better things ahead.

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Mom: Son, did you get a chance to see one of the 3 Porsche Ads? I think they turned out well.

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Dad: Good job. While we’re talking about cars, what are your thoughts on Banjo bolts? Joe says to get a Hilux or Ranger, and your mum doesn’t believe it’s an actual part....So do I just send you the car to fix, or do you have a car guy now, or do I dip into the secret fund and get a Raptor? Hit me back, Facebook me, or @ me asap.

Rakim: -_-

Dad:???

Rakim: (offline)

Dad: >_<

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Emma: Bro, what did you do to Dad??? He’s bugging me about something called Bonjo. Fix it now, please. Oh BTW, congrats on the ad, but were those real animals or CG?"

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Waking up to all sorts of messages from people he knew, it was his family’s reactions that threw him for a loop. Despite knowing roughly what his ad was about, they acted like true Marvel fans watching Spider-Man on the big screen, as if they hadn’t based it on the source material. Still, he appreciated their reactions, especially his dad, who, from what he could tell, couldn’t care less about how much money there was or about the advertisement in general.

The man had a way of just ignoring the elephant in the room and asking about the mice, and at those points, he suddenly didn’t know anything about technology. The man ran a multimillion-dollar or more business; he himself was a Business-man in various fields and acted like he didn’t know how to boot up his laptop. The fact that he was one of those who barely saw any defects during the worst of the lockdown should tell you all.

The man was just proud of seeing his kids succeed, and they knew it, which was why, despite the second-hand embarrassment, they never complained. Sending a simple praying emoji to his sister, he turned off his phone and followed the staff to the media room set up at the Homeground. Following Jogi, Witrz, and Jamal, he took a seat on the far right after a brief wave to the gathered reporters.

Almost immediately after he sat down, he reached forward, removing the bottles of Heineken and Coke in front of him and placing them on the floor under the desk. His movements were natural, with no change in expression; no one had even time to notice his actions before he was done. But Wirtz, seated next to him, couldn’t help but chuckle and leaned over to whisper something that made him smile.

Still, his friend also moved the alcohol bottle out of the camera angle, also not wanting to be associated with an alcoholic beverage, no matter how indirect, and smiled professionally at the cameras. Not wanting to watch the shenanigans young players were escalating into something that could get them in trouble with FIFA, the DFB staff member immediately began the press conference.

"Welcome, everyone, to today’s Germany national team media availability ahead of our second fixture with Portugal." He announced with a practised smile toward the assembled press. "With us today are Head Coach Joachim Löw, Florian Wirtz, Jamal Musiala, and Rakim Rex. We’ll begin with questions."

A forest of hands shot up across the room, but the DFB media officer pointed first to a familiar face in the front row, Christian Falk of BILD. "A question for Coach Löw first, then for Rakim." He said with a light smile, keeping his professional image. "Jogi, after Tuesday’s defeat to France, there is a sense in the country that the formation and lineup did not get the best out of the squad. Will we see changes against Portugal? And for Rakim, you came on with the team chasing the game, what did you make of your ten minutes?"

Löw leaned slightly toward his microphone, hands folded calmly on the table in front of him. "Christian, every match is its own preparation. We analysed France honestly, what worked, what did not, and the staff have worked through different scenarios this week. I will not announce a starting eleven here, but I will say that the boys who trained well are in contention. That includes the young ones here."

He paused, letting that sit before nodding toward Rakim, who drew the microphone closer with two fingers, his loosely bound locs bouncing at the back as he sat up straighter. "Ahem, Ten minutes or ninety minutes, you take what you get and try to make the most of it. I felt good in the boots, felt good on the ball, and I thought my teammates built a platform for us to come on and push. But like my coaches like to say, football is a game of effort and a pinch of luck, and sometimes that makes all the difference."

Falk scribbled into his notepad, nodding for the follow-up his colleagues clearly wanted. The media officer’s hand was already up, gesturing toward the second row. "Tobias Escher, 11 Freunde. For Florian and Jamal. Both of you watched ninety minutes from the bench against the world champions. What was that like, and what conversations have you had with the coaching staff since?"

Wirtz reached for his microphone first, a light tap of the head to check it was on. "Watching is part of the job; you learn a lot from watching players who have played on the biggest stages. Of course, every player wants to be on the pitch; that is normal. But the staff has been clear with all of us about what they expect from us, and my job is to be ready when the call comes."

Musiala leaned forward, glancing once at Löw before answering. His voice was softer than Wirtz’s, but carried the same measured calm. "Same as Flo, really. I’ve had good talks with the coach, and I think you can see in the sessions that everyone is pushing, trying to be one of the many ingredients that will bring us victory. If I get the chance, I take it."

A small ripple ran through the room as a few of the older journalists exchanged glances at the rehearsed quality of the answers. The DFB officer pointed to a hand near the back.

"Raphael Honigstein, The Athletic, Question for Rakim." A handsome dark-haired man said, standing up to gather everyone’s attention. "Have you seen what Sandro Wagner and Bastian Schweinsteiger had to say on Sportstudio about how the squad was deployed against France, particularly the substitutions?"

The room took a sharp inhale at his question, but they were clearly eager to receive a soundbite to make their story. Looking at the almost psychotic eyes that reminded him of the two Akita’s who tried to jump Zeus back home in Orlando in his freshman year of high school. They had the same hungry looks ready to devour him, but like Zeus, he also had that dog in him.

"No, I haven’t. All our focus has been on getting our minds and bodies ready to do battle tomorrow." He calmly said, appearing to be the epitome of honesty, ignoring the fact that he and the other two in attendance had been posting on their stories, and that he had recently been interacting with fans reacting to his Porsche ads. "But I’ll say this, it’s easy to think of what should have been done after the fact, harder to do when you’re in the driver’s seat and even more difficult to block out all the doubts and focus on the next match."

Honigstein’s mouth opened a fraction, ready with the follow-up, but the DFB officer was already gesturing past him to the next raised hand. A small chuckle moved through the back rows, half admiration, half recognition that the kid had just slipped the hook without breaking a sweat.

"Maria Köhler, Süddeutsche Zeitung," a sharply dressed woman in the third row began, tablet balanced on her knee. "For Coach Löw, with both France and Portugal having won their first matches in group F, are you considering a more attacking shape, or is the staff committed to the system from Munich?"

"Maria, every shape we use is an attacking shape; in our minds, the question is how to balance that." Löw allowed himself the briefest smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Portugal punishes you both ways, on the ball and off it, so we will pick the eleven that gives us the best chance of controlling the match. As for Ronaldo, well, the whole continent saw what he did. You prepare, you stay disciplined, and you trust the players around him to be mortal."

A few of the journalists chuckled, scribbling the line down word for word. Wirtz leaned slightly toward Rakim, whispering something behind a curled hand that made the younger man bite the inside of his cheek to keep his face still.

"Marco Bode, Kicker, for Jamal." A bespectacled veteran in a navy blazer raised his pen. "You’ve been compared this past year to a young Messi by no less than Pep Guardiola. How do you handle that kind of comparison at eighteen, especially in a camp where you have not yet had minutes?"

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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