2025-08-06, 04:35 PM - Word count:
"Lads!"
The strip light in the changing room hurt Nyron's eyes as he looked up from pulling his socks on.
The gaffer was standing there, arms spread.
"This is it for us. If we don't get a result here, we have no chance at winning this league."
He paused for a moment to look away, then turned back suddenly.
"I know how it is for you. You're probably too busy thinking about where you might be playing next season. Your head is in Hollywood or Mexico City. You'll be gone from this team, you'll never have to see me again - what does this really matter?"
Nyron swallowed silently. The thought had crossed his mind.
"Well, it matters to me. And it might just matter to the scouts who watch you every week. You think you've done enough to be the next SSL star? Maybe you have. But if I was scouting you and I saw you taking a game off, you'd be off our board like a shot."
The gaffer took a moment to scan the youthful faces of his players.
"This is top-of-the-table Accra, and in case you haven't noticed, we are in Accra. NOBODY is giving us a chance today. Go out there, play like you give a shit, and watch what happens."
He turned away and walked straight out.
Nyron couldn't get that out of his mind as he walked down the tunnel. "Play like you give a shit" - he could do that.
Early in the game, the message seemed to have got through to the other players too. The high-flying Accra were struggling to cope with the energy and pressing of Port Royal. Tlacaelel Tepoztli won the ball high up, with a few passes leading to him curling a ball straight onto the far post. Maybe it was possible.
The Port Royal team relaxed for a moment, and Accra nearly stuck. 8 minutes in, both teams should have scored.
A minute later, an Accra ball from the left took an unfortunate deflection off a defender's leg and gave their striker the easiest of chances. 1-0 Accra.
Ten minutes of Accra pressure followed, but the defence held firm. Nyron glanced occasionally over at the sideline. His manager stood, feet apart, chest out, saying nothing.
Suddenly Port Royal came alive again. Tepoztli forced a save from the keeper, Nyron won possession and fed the left winger, who pulled it agonisingly wide. The game was back on.
After half an hour, Nyron broke down the right and whipped a low ball into the area. He knew it was bad as soon as he hit it, but a botched clearance hit another defender and fell for Alejandro Fuecoco to blast home. Sometimes you're better off being lucky than good.
Two minutes later, disaster struck. Fuecoco went down clutching his knee. As he was carried off, Nyron wondered how they would possibly do this without their best player and top goalscorer. The boss moved for the first time, tending to the injured playmaker.
When half time came, Nyron had no idea what to expect. Praise for being level? A shouting at for not winning? He couldn't have predicted what would happen.
The boss stood in front of his team, and waited for silence. When he got it, he held it. Saying nothing, he looked at each player in turn, spending maybe 5 seconds each just looking them in the eyes. When all of them were done, he cleared his throat, nodded, and walked back out of the changing room without saying a word. Nyron couldn't really process it.
Back on the pitch, 15 minutes of end to end football followed. From an attacking throw in, Tepoztli bent the ball towards the far post. Backpedalling and off-balance, Nyron managed to get just enough head onto it to send it into the top corner.
The joy wouldn't last long. An Accra forward found a yard of space in the box and blasted a shot into the far post. 2-2 and no sign of slowing down.
When an Accra corner came in, Jose Dias clearly didn't mean to handle it, but he did, and VAR confirmed as much. The Port Royal keeper dived the wrong way for the spot kick. 3-2.
Nyron looked to the sidelines for some tactical change, some instructions, anything. The boss remained unmoved. With 18 minutes left, Port Royal would need something special.
They nearly found it when Nyron found a cross-field ball to Tepoztli, who bent another shot onto the far post. It rolled pathetically along the goal line, with technology confirming no goal scored. So unlucky, but Port Royal kept on trying.
Suddenly, Nyron got onto a chipped through ball in the box. As he controlled it, his standing leg was swept from under him. Nyron stayed on the floor, clutching his ankle, praying. His prayers were answered - a yellow card for the defender and an opportunity for Jose Dias to redeem himself, which he did - chipping his penalty into the top corner.
3-3 with 8 minutes left. Would this be good enough for the boss?
2 minutes into added time, Port Royal broke quickly. A last ditch tackle from Kroetch rolled out fortuitously to the left wing, it was played up to Smokes, who held the ball up securely and rolled it out to Tepoztli on the left. Tepoztli dribbled upfield and exchanged passes with Beezle Bot. Just when it looked like the momentum had gone from the attack, Bot rolled the ball to Matthew Murdock, stood in the centre, 25 yards out.
The midfielder looked up - he had 5 options. One through the middle, one in each channel and two wing backs coming from the sides. Hell, there were 6 options if you counted the offside Jaylon Smokes running back.
Murdock took a touch as the four defenders struggled to cover the six attackers. He had all the time in the world to hit it, and side-footed a drive past the outstretched keeper, straight into the top corner of the net. The Port Royal players went ballistic to a chorus of groans from the stands.
During the celebrations, Nyron took a moment to glance towards his manager, who was now jumping up and down. What just happened?
The strip light in the changing room hurt Nyron's eyes as he looked up from pulling his socks on.
The gaffer was standing there, arms spread.
"This is it for us. If we don't get a result here, we have no chance at winning this league."
He paused for a moment to look away, then turned back suddenly.
"I know how it is for you. You're probably too busy thinking about where you might be playing next season. Your head is in Hollywood or Mexico City. You'll be gone from this team, you'll never have to see me again - what does this really matter?"
Nyron swallowed silently. The thought had crossed his mind.
"Well, it matters to me. And it might just matter to the scouts who watch you every week. You think you've done enough to be the next SSL star? Maybe you have. But if I was scouting you and I saw you taking a game off, you'd be off our board like a shot."
The gaffer took a moment to scan the youthful faces of his players.
"This is top-of-the-table Accra, and in case you haven't noticed, we are in Accra. NOBODY is giving us a chance today. Go out there, play like you give a shit, and watch what happens."
He turned away and walked straight out.
Nyron couldn't get that out of his mind as he walked down the tunnel. "Play like you give a shit" - he could do that.
Early in the game, the message seemed to have got through to the other players too. The high-flying Accra were struggling to cope with the energy and pressing of Port Royal. Tlacaelel Tepoztli won the ball high up, with a few passes leading to him curling a ball straight onto the far post. Maybe it was possible.
The Port Royal team relaxed for a moment, and Accra nearly stuck. 8 minutes in, both teams should have scored.
A minute later, an Accra ball from the left took an unfortunate deflection off a defender's leg and gave their striker the easiest of chances. 1-0 Accra.
Ten minutes of Accra pressure followed, but the defence held firm. Nyron glanced occasionally over at the sideline. His manager stood, feet apart, chest out, saying nothing.
Suddenly Port Royal came alive again. Tepoztli forced a save from the keeper, Nyron won possession and fed the left winger, who pulled it agonisingly wide. The game was back on.
After half an hour, Nyron broke down the right and whipped a low ball into the area. He knew it was bad as soon as he hit it, but a botched clearance hit another defender and fell for Alejandro Fuecoco to blast home. Sometimes you're better off being lucky than good.
Two minutes later, disaster struck. Fuecoco went down clutching his knee. As he was carried off, Nyron wondered how they would possibly do this without their best player and top goalscorer. The boss moved for the first time, tending to the injured playmaker.
When half time came, Nyron had no idea what to expect. Praise for being level? A shouting at for not winning? He couldn't have predicted what would happen.
The boss stood in front of his team, and waited for silence. When he got it, he held it. Saying nothing, he looked at each player in turn, spending maybe 5 seconds each just looking them in the eyes. When all of them were done, he cleared his throat, nodded, and walked back out of the changing room without saying a word. Nyron couldn't really process it.
Back on the pitch, 15 minutes of end to end football followed. From an attacking throw in, Tepoztli bent the ball towards the far post. Backpedalling and off-balance, Nyron managed to get just enough head onto it to send it into the top corner.
The joy wouldn't last long. An Accra forward found a yard of space in the box and blasted a shot into the far post. 2-2 and no sign of slowing down.
When an Accra corner came in, Jose Dias clearly didn't mean to handle it, but he did, and VAR confirmed as much. The Port Royal keeper dived the wrong way for the spot kick. 3-2.
Nyron looked to the sidelines for some tactical change, some instructions, anything. The boss remained unmoved. With 18 minutes left, Port Royal would need something special.
They nearly found it when Nyron found a cross-field ball to Tepoztli, who bent another shot onto the far post. It rolled pathetically along the goal line, with technology confirming no goal scored. So unlucky, but Port Royal kept on trying.
Suddenly, Nyron got onto a chipped through ball in the box. As he controlled it, his standing leg was swept from under him. Nyron stayed on the floor, clutching his ankle, praying. His prayers were answered - a yellow card for the defender and an opportunity for Jose Dias to redeem himself, which he did - chipping his penalty into the top corner.
3-3 with 8 minutes left. Would this be good enough for the boss?
2 minutes into added time, Port Royal broke quickly. A last ditch tackle from Kroetch rolled out fortuitously to the left wing, it was played up to Smokes, who held the ball up securely and rolled it out to Tepoztli on the left. Tepoztli dribbled upfield and exchanged passes with Beezle Bot. Just when it looked like the momentum had gone from the attack, Bot rolled the ball to Matthew Murdock, stood in the centre, 25 yards out.
The midfielder looked up - he had 5 options. One through the middle, one in each channel and two wing backs coming from the sides. Hell, there were 6 options if you counted the offside Jaylon Smokes running back.
Murdock took a touch as the four defenders struggled to cover the six attackers. He had all the time in the world to hit it, and side-footed a drive past the outstretched keeper, straight into the top corner of the net. The Port Royal players went ballistic to a chorus of groans from the stands.
During the celebrations, Nyron took a moment to glance towards his manager, who was now jumping up and down. What just happened?
