2026-05-08, 06:27 AM - Word count:
”Well.. it was.. I don’t know, maybe it was just one of those matches. The team seemed a little off. And the coach, he said it was on him for the tactics…” Joe was looking a little down, noticing his own face on the screen, almost forgetting to look at his father whose face covered the majority of the screen.
”Then what’s the problem, Joe?”
”I just feel a little off. Like I expected something else from myself, something more.”
“How about you try talking to the coach?” Tok advised over the sound of scooters and cars passing by the corner where his stall stood.
They had already talked about how the business was going, and about how Joe’s younger sister had received praise for her academic performances, although Tok assured Joe that she missed him. Sensing Joe’s reluctance to talk about his first match in detail, Tok had complied with his son’s switching of topics, before the conversation naturally returned to Joe’s early days in his new home.
”I’ll try, but I don’t really know what he can even do about this…”
After a moment’s silence, Tok started turning the phone sideways, calling his peers over to greet his son. As soon as they noticed, they cheered greetings in the direction of the phone, waving for the teenager to notice them through the blurry images reflected on his end of the call.
Asking the manager, Joe had been recommended something that he had not at all considered: working harder in the gym. It struck him as odd, and perhaps sensing his dissatisfaction with the advice, the manager chose not to pursue it further, instead rounding the conversation off with a “but don’t worry too much about it. It’s on me for the tactics. We’re still working on finding the right way for the team to play together. Soon, we will have it. Don’t worry too much. Just train, follow the coaches, and do your best. We will get there.”
That, however, was not how things went as the Eagles took to the pitch for the second match of the season, facing off against PS Jakarta. For a moment it had actually seemed as though things were going in the right direction, as Joe watched his teammates combine down the right-hand side of the pitch, before an opponent clumsily tackled Nacho Kusora, an Argentinian striker who came across as a likable guy to Joe. The resulting penalty kick was converted, and a few minutes later, the same situation appeared to play out again, except this time, the referee wasn’t having it.
Perhaps that was the moment. Maybe the entire opening to the match had just been a fluke. Either way, the team struggled to create open chances following the non-penalty, and instead headed into the locker room at full time feeling the same as they had at the halfway mark: PS Jakarta had scored a deflected goal midway through the first half, followed by a header off a cross coming from Joe’s side of the pitch. One that he could perhaps have done more to deal with. Deflated, the team had faced the tunnel both times they headed in, as the second half provided little entertainment, and the team had to face the reality that was 2 matches with 0 points to show for their efforts.
After that day, Joe had taken his manager’s advice.
“First and foremost, we need to turn you into an athlete,” he had said. “You still have the build of a random street-kid from Thailand. Then again, I suppose that’s what you are.”
“I’m not a street..” Joe had started, quickly realising that it didn’t matter. “Alright, boss,” he changed his tone.
“Don’t worry, your foundations are there already. You’re fairly quick, and your technical ability is nothing to snuff at. We’re going to turn you into an athlete, and you’ll be a star.”
Joe didn’t need to be a star, and frankly, he wasn’t too sure he understood exactly what the gaffer was saying. It seemed like he’d need to spend more time in the gym, and so he left his trust with the fitness coaching staff. After all, he couldn’t stay in this absentminded state forever.
The world flickered for a moment. Flashing, disappearing, returning. Then, a shout. The meaning of “dream” had changed. Joe was still dreaming, of that he was sure, because how else could he have floated the way he so obviously did? Floated past one defender, then another, yet another, before turning towards the goal from the opposite side of the penalty area. Facing the goalkeeper, he swung his right leg, feeling it connect with the ball, just the way he had wanted. He got so much power behind the ball that the keeper hardly managed to move before it struck the back of the net. Surely, the bad dream had been changed for one of the very best he had ever experienced. Things still felt a little unreal, but in an entirely different sense. What had previously been a blur, was now a sharp focus. The moment he had received the ball on the left side of the box, Joe felt as though he had been directed by a spirit, luring him into the spaces between opposition defenders, until revealing the clear path to the goal. All he had to do was follow the narrative he had been handed.
It had only been some five minutes since the kick off, and yet everything felt so different to before. The giant anvil that had been weighing down Joe Mormor had been loosened. Finally, he could breathe. And if the following 90-or-so minutes of football were anything to go by, he wasn’t the only Victoria Falls Eagles-player to have felt it. This was clear after the next 25 minutes. First, a raid down the right by the wing back Peña had allowed the Venezuelan to fire a hard shot goalwards, and once again the Eagles were celebrating as a deflection saw the shot go past the Istanbul FK-goalkeeper. Next, a set piece situation ended with the ball at the feet of Bruce McAllister, a young Scot towards whom Joe felt a lot of goodwill, perhaps owing to him occupying the same role as Joe, only on the other side of the pitch. From there, the Scot placed a shot beautifully by the root of the post, and the VFE-players were ecstatic. A feeling that was only further enhanced when Joe got his second goal of the season just before half-time, owing to an unselfish assist by Van Hieu Tang, the other Southeast Asian player in the team. 4-0 halfway through the match, and while the second half was by no means tame, the result remained the same throughout.
That was it. With the final whistle, Joe realised that he no longer felt halfway asleep. For 90 minutes, he’d been wide awake. And so, the dream was shattered. Only in this case, it was more like breaking out of a nightmare.
”Then what’s the problem, Joe?”
”I just feel a little off. Like I expected something else from myself, something more.”
“How about you try talking to the coach?” Tok advised over the sound of scooters and cars passing by the corner where his stall stood.
They had already talked about how the business was going, and about how Joe’s younger sister had received praise for her academic performances, although Tok assured Joe that she missed him. Sensing Joe’s reluctance to talk about his first match in detail, Tok had complied with his son’s switching of topics, before the conversation naturally returned to Joe’s early days in his new home.
”I’ll try, but I don’t really know what he can even do about this…”
After a moment’s silence, Tok started turning the phone sideways, calling his peers over to greet his son. As soon as they noticed, they cheered greetings in the direction of the phone, waving for the teenager to notice them through the blurry images reflected on his end of the call.
Asking the manager, Joe had been recommended something that he had not at all considered: working harder in the gym. It struck him as odd, and perhaps sensing his dissatisfaction with the advice, the manager chose not to pursue it further, instead rounding the conversation off with a “but don’t worry too much about it. It’s on me for the tactics. We’re still working on finding the right way for the team to play together. Soon, we will have it. Don’t worry too much. Just train, follow the coaches, and do your best. We will get there.”
That, however, was not how things went as the Eagles took to the pitch for the second match of the season, facing off against PS Jakarta. For a moment it had actually seemed as though things were going in the right direction, as Joe watched his teammates combine down the right-hand side of the pitch, before an opponent clumsily tackled Nacho Kusora, an Argentinian striker who came across as a likable guy to Joe. The resulting penalty kick was converted, and a few minutes later, the same situation appeared to play out again, except this time, the referee wasn’t having it.
Perhaps that was the moment. Maybe the entire opening to the match had just been a fluke. Either way, the team struggled to create open chances following the non-penalty, and instead headed into the locker room at full time feeling the same as they had at the halfway mark: PS Jakarta had scored a deflected goal midway through the first half, followed by a header off a cross coming from Joe’s side of the pitch. One that he could perhaps have done more to deal with. Deflated, the team had faced the tunnel both times they headed in, as the second half provided little entertainment, and the team had to face the reality that was 2 matches with 0 points to show for their efforts.
After that day, Joe had taken his manager’s advice.
“First and foremost, we need to turn you into an athlete,” he had said. “You still have the build of a random street-kid from Thailand. Then again, I suppose that’s what you are.”
“I’m not a street..” Joe had started, quickly realising that it didn’t matter. “Alright, boss,” he changed his tone.
“Don’t worry, your foundations are there already. You’re fairly quick, and your technical ability is nothing to snuff at. We’re going to turn you into an athlete, and you’ll be a star.”
Joe didn’t need to be a star, and frankly, he wasn’t too sure he understood exactly what the gaffer was saying. It seemed like he’d need to spend more time in the gym, and so he left his trust with the fitness coaching staff. After all, he couldn’t stay in this absentminded state forever.
The world flickered for a moment. Flashing, disappearing, returning. Then, a shout. The meaning of “dream” had changed. Joe was still dreaming, of that he was sure, because how else could he have floated the way he so obviously did? Floated past one defender, then another, yet another, before turning towards the goal from the opposite side of the penalty area. Facing the goalkeeper, he swung his right leg, feeling it connect with the ball, just the way he had wanted. He got so much power behind the ball that the keeper hardly managed to move before it struck the back of the net. Surely, the bad dream had been changed for one of the very best he had ever experienced. Things still felt a little unreal, but in an entirely different sense. What had previously been a blur, was now a sharp focus. The moment he had received the ball on the left side of the box, Joe felt as though he had been directed by a spirit, luring him into the spaces between opposition defenders, until revealing the clear path to the goal. All he had to do was follow the narrative he had been handed.
It had only been some five minutes since the kick off, and yet everything felt so different to before. The giant anvil that had been weighing down Joe Mormor had been loosened. Finally, he could breathe. And if the following 90-or-so minutes of football were anything to go by, he wasn’t the only Victoria Falls Eagles-player to have felt it. This was clear after the next 25 minutes. First, a raid down the right by the wing back Peña had allowed the Venezuelan to fire a hard shot goalwards, and once again the Eagles were celebrating as a deflection saw the shot go past the Istanbul FK-goalkeeper. Next, a set piece situation ended with the ball at the feet of Bruce McAllister, a young Scot towards whom Joe felt a lot of goodwill, perhaps owing to him occupying the same role as Joe, only on the other side of the pitch. From there, the Scot placed a shot beautifully by the root of the post, and the VFE-players were ecstatic. A feeling that was only further enhanced when Joe got his second goal of the season just before half-time, owing to an unselfish assist by Van Hieu Tang, the other Southeast Asian player in the team. 4-0 halfway through the match, and while the second half was by no means tame, the result remained the same throughout.
That was it. With the final whistle, Joe realised that he no longer felt halfway asleep. For 90 minutes, he’d been wide awake. And so, the dream was shattered. Only in this case, it was more like breaking out of a nightmare.
