2026-08-09, 11:28 AM - Word count:
The early days of life in Budapest had offered quite some change for Joe. Getting used to a new city, a new country, new teammates, and new staff was sort of a given. That much, anyone could expect, and he had already gone through it once before, when he arrived in Africa to play for the Victoria Falls Eagles-academy. What Joe had not expected was that he would also need to learn to play a whole new position. Throughout his many years of playing youth football in Thailand, position had never been the most essential; you played where you were placed on the board, that was the philosophy he had employed. However, the board had always shown him to be one of the players furthest up the pitch. A goalscorer, a creator, someone who made things happen. At VFE, this had continued; he had played down the left-hand side, and gotten very used to it over the year he spent there, developing a natural sense for when it would be appropriate to cut in to go for goal, and for when his team would be better served with him sticking to the wide area and creating opportunities for his teammates. It seemed most appropriate that he should continue on this path, but as it happened, the coaching staff at Rapid Magyar SC had seen something different in the young winger. Although they had let him known that he was a highly desired prospect during their initial talks, he had not at all considered that they had been talking about his potential… to play a defensive position.
With only a brief pre-season to go before the matches started coming, Joe had to hit the ground running, and with a new role to learn, Joe had spent plenty of time sparring with the coaching staff at the club both during and after the official training hours. For a while, he would largely forgo his offensive development to instead focus on learning the trade of the defender. This also meant that his training on the pitch was conducted with the defensive group which consisted of veterans and other newcomers alike. Spending so much time with the same group of players naturally also meant getting to know each other quite well on and off the pitch.
“…you wouldn’t believe how funny it looked,” said Joe’s phone in the voice of his friend Sem.
“This poor foreigner, sweat running all down his face – it was all red!” he struggled to contain his laughter. It wasn’t even clear if he really found Tok’s behaviour funny, or if it was just about the farang who must have been walking way longer in the sun than anyone ever should. “The farang stood right in front of your dad’s stall for like a whole minute, and he kept looking over at your dad, but he didn’t notice anything,” Sem was back to laughing as Joe had also broken out into a huge grin, mostly at the sight of his friend’s face on the screen.
“And he just sat there like nothing, until the grill auntie came over and sold the farang a bag of papaya!” Sem couldn’t hold it any longer, and now Joe started laughing with him.
“But,” Joe practically stammered from his behind his laughter, “Did my dad even get his money?!” he couldn’t take it seriously.
Sem started laughing even harder. “The auntie put it on his table, right in front of him! Like bam! Right onto the middle of the table!”
The two continued their light conversation for a long time. Even though Joe was starting to get along with his teammates, it wasn’t quite the same. Maybe because he and Sem had known each other longer. Maybe because of their shared background, their language, their culture. He suspected it was a little bit of everything. But also that it would eventually come. After all, he had been quite close with his teammates at VFE by the time they had graduated from the academy.
After Joe’s fourth match in the SSL, he had felt down. The entire team had. Despite the team’s positive start to the season, which had granted them six points to show for the first two matches, they had since lost an away match to (North?). That loss now felt like a slightly underripe mango in comparison to this disaster. They had conceded six. At home. They hadn’t even managed to return the favour to the AS Paris-team a single time, leaving the dressing room in complete silence at the 0-6 defeat.
Joe was staring a hole in the ground, and that hole must have gotten especially deep, because one of his teammates told him to “go get some fresh air.” What the hell kind of thing is that to say?! What is with farangs and wanting to walk all the time? It made no sense. In the first place, what is this obsession with “fresh air” anyway? The air isn’t fresh, it’s polluted by all the cars, the scooters, motorcycles, factories, the burnt crops from the farmers. Especially here in the city, full of people. It really was such a strange idea. Joe stayed quiet.
A couple of hours later, Joe was back in his hotel room, lying around on the bed. He had tried to turn on the TV in his room, but he’d quickly turned it back off. It just wasn’t appealing. Neither was his book. Even his phone would likely just be full of posts about the match, none of which he would want to see. In the end, he decided to do what his teammate had suggested: going out for a walk in the local park. After all, he did enjoy seeing the animals there, and at this hour there probably wouldn’t be too many commuters and dogwalkers.
He put on his running shoes and headed out.
With only a brief pre-season to go before the matches started coming, Joe had to hit the ground running, and with a new role to learn, Joe had spent plenty of time sparring with the coaching staff at the club both during and after the official training hours. For a while, he would largely forgo his offensive development to instead focus on learning the trade of the defender. This also meant that his training on the pitch was conducted with the defensive group which consisted of veterans and other newcomers alike. Spending so much time with the same group of players naturally also meant getting to know each other quite well on and off the pitch.
“…you wouldn’t believe how funny it looked,” said Joe’s phone in the voice of his friend Sem.
“This poor foreigner, sweat running all down his face – it was all red!” he struggled to contain his laughter. It wasn’t even clear if he really found Tok’s behaviour funny, or if it was just about the farang who must have been walking way longer in the sun than anyone ever should. “The farang stood right in front of your dad’s stall for like a whole minute, and he kept looking over at your dad, but he didn’t notice anything,” Sem was back to laughing as Joe had also broken out into a huge grin, mostly at the sight of his friend’s face on the screen.
“And he just sat there like nothing, until the grill auntie came over and sold the farang a bag of papaya!” Sem couldn’t hold it any longer, and now Joe started laughing with him.
“But,” Joe practically stammered from his behind his laughter, “Did my dad even get his money?!” he couldn’t take it seriously.
Sem started laughing even harder. “The auntie put it on his table, right in front of him! Like bam! Right onto the middle of the table!”
The two continued their light conversation for a long time. Even though Joe was starting to get along with his teammates, it wasn’t quite the same. Maybe because he and Sem had known each other longer. Maybe because of their shared background, their language, their culture. He suspected it was a little bit of everything. But also that it would eventually come. After all, he had been quite close with his teammates at VFE by the time they had graduated from the academy.
After Joe’s fourth match in the SSL, he had felt down. The entire team had. Despite the team’s positive start to the season, which had granted them six points to show for the first two matches, they had since lost an away match to (North?). That loss now felt like a slightly underripe mango in comparison to this disaster. They had conceded six. At home. They hadn’t even managed to return the favour to the AS Paris-team a single time, leaving the dressing room in complete silence at the 0-6 defeat.
Joe was staring a hole in the ground, and that hole must have gotten especially deep, because one of his teammates told him to “go get some fresh air.” What the hell kind of thing is that to say?! What is with farangs and wanting to walk all the time? It made no sense. In the first place, what is this obsession with “fresh air” anyway? The air isn’t fresh, it’s polluted by all the cars, the scooters, motorcycles, factories, the burnt crops from the farmers. Especially here in the city, full of people. It really was such a strange idea. Joe stayed quiet.
He put on his running shoes and headed out.
![[Image: gmSTbwI.png]](https://i.imgur.com/gmSTbwI.png)
![[Image: i8JStuN.png]](https://i.imgur.com/i8JStuN.png)
