The captain's armband

[Shnitzl]

It's only a pre-season game. But I'm lost in thoughts. Everyone else has already left the locker room - the "Umkleidekabine", as we call it in Germany - and is getting on the pitch to prepare for kick-off, and I'm the only one left behind. I'm fully dressed already, my black-and-white striped jersey with the #26 already properly tucked into my shorts, ready to go out and dominate. Only one thing is missing.

In my hands, I hold the captain's armband. I have worn it all of last season as well, and it has been an honor to wear it, to lead the team on the pitch every single game. As the only German player on my team, I feel like it's my duty to help my teammates on and off the pitch. If they fail, in a way, I have failed as well. Them, and the fans.

I have never talked about it to anyone, but wearing the captains armband filled me with a sense of pride I could have never anticipated. And I dreaded having it taken away from me. This morning, the decision had been made.

I step in front of the mirror. Our goal this year is promotion, there can be no doubt about it. The locker room is bustling with energy, the fans are thirsting for Division 1 football in the Schwarzwald. What if we fail? What will my legacy as a captain be?

I slowly pull the armband over my hand and pull it up my arm, and I check myself out in the mirror. Suddenly all the doubts are washed away. We will not fail. I will lead this team to the first division. They've put their faith in me to captain this squad for a reason, and I will not let them down. I will be the tree that leads the trees.

I take another deep breath and leave the locker room, my iron screw studded boots clanking loudly on the tiles on the way to the pitch. Time to put some fear into fools.

[woog]

The assistant captain's armband

I watch Shenk put his armband on. It feels like the 50th time but also the first time.
At first is is a a stretchy bracelet. Past the wrist but not quite at the elbow, it is a cuff. At the elbow it looks momentarily strange as his arm bends to navigate it further. Finally, on his bicep, he stretches it around his sleeve, leaving just enough of the shirt's cuff below to form a stripe. He turns to look in the mirror and thinks his a private thought. My eyes remain on the band.

It feels like the first time because his eyes catch my gaze in the mirror, as he turns back to the room. He smirks his German smirk, reading my thoughts. This is a rare thing, to read my thoughts accurately. It is known that no one thinks quite the way I think. But maybe this once I am thinking the same thought in a similar enough way.

He walks over to me, not drawing anyone else's attention for the moment. He knows I am not a seeker after attention. He pulls his armband off smoothly, and with surprising speed I find it around my own arm.

"Your vice captain, Zebras of Der Schwarzwald - Muunokhoi Sarantsatsral!"

I am stunned. This is skilled men of strategy asking a reckless improviser to lead. This is flamboyant extroverts listening to a peculiar introvert. In the game of football, this is people who seek to direct the ball with blunt force considering the ways of one who seeks to direct the ball with compassion and untamed willpower.

We are either all doomed or all blessed. I feel my face shift from its stony blankness to a smile, a smirk less than Shenkinger's. I look slowly to these brothers, each in turn. I say nothing. I nod and stand, beat a hand to my chest once.

It shall be a wild season, flamboyant, reckless, strategic and willful.