2026-06-10, 03:06 AM - Word count:
“And for the 10th pick in the SSL Draft, FC Hollywood pick… Nick Kasak…”
The polite applause and cheers from the gathered crowd (already significantly smaller than for the first pick) are ringing in Nick’s ears. His cheeks flush, time slows down. He finds himself on his feet. Hands pat his back and reach for his own to shake. This is his moment, to savour and enjoy. After a long gruelling season of training in the heat of Ghana, facing devastating opposition to glory or despair. He finally gets to hear what the good and the great of the SSL have to say about this humble academy prospect who found his way to be first round draft pick.
The hubbub dies down, Kasak thanks his audience for the praise, and gets up to listen:
“And the 11th pick, Buenos Aires will have…”
Ah… he missed the bit with the things.
Kasak glances at the screen again, then to the crowd around him. He can always watch it again later.
“I’m going to Hollywood BABY!!!”
-----
Kasak is clutching a Pina Colada out of the top of the limo driving on Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood sign lingering in the distance, palm trees lining the street.
“Hollywood!!!” he screams with delight at no one in particular.
The homeless and the tourist that populate the cliched corner of tinseltown. Some of them wave back, including three different guys dressed as spiderman who point and wave.
Any locals have seen this all before.
Nick, sitting back down in the limo, decides to ask the driver some questions.
“So, Hollywood FC have a famous owner, right?”
“Sir, I wouldn’t know anything about that”, the driver replies curtly.
“Oh come on, you can tell me, its The Terminator, right?”
“I mean… I wouldn’t know, sir.”
“Tom Cruise? Brad? It’s Brad.” Kasak feels like he’s got the answer based on nothing but the driver’s silence. “I knew it.”
The limo turns down some more streets, weaving its merry way with it’s jolly passenger, heading towards the armoured gates that guard the training ground of the legendary multiple SSL Champions Hollywood FC.
-----
“What do you mean my name isn’t on the list? I’ve just been drafted to this team!!! Arnie’s team, right? Let me talk to Mr. Schwarzenegger.”
“I’m sorry Mr…. Kay-sack.” says the heavily armed Security Guard kindly. “I don’t have you or any new draftees coming down here today.”
“What!!!” Nick gesticulares widly “This is absurd!! Look, Brad wants me here!"
Guns ‘n’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle starts playing from Nick’s phone in his pocket and he abruptly answers.
“Hello, Nick Kasak... Inside Forward to the stars.” He winces at his odd choice of words.
“Oh hello Mr Kasak”, says a bright South African voice on the other end, “My name is Theresa, I’m your player Liaison from Kaapstad. We heard you didn’t manage to get on the flight to Cape Town we set up for you? You’re missing the Braai and Ice Cream Social with the other draftees.”
“Er… what? But I got drafted by Hollywood?”
“… erm, yes” Theresa tries to maintain her disbelief, “the organisation drafted you.. sir…”
“But… but…”
The pause is awkward.
“Mr Kasak, I need you to be honest with me right now.”
“Right.” Nick looks puzzled.
“Did ignore all of our paperwork and phone conversations, ignore your agent’s phonecalls and emails, and then fly yourself to Los Angeles, hire a limousine to drive you directly to the training ground?” Theresa’s voice is professional, with only a slight frustrated hint of judgement.”
“...Yes.” Says Nick, “I did do that, yes.”
“Ok, thankyou,” She replies, then whispering to someone else “You were right, it’s a code brown.”
“Sorry, code what?” Nick replies, confused.
“Nothing to worry about Mr Kasak, we will sort all of this for you.”
-------
27 hours and 2 layovers later.
Theresa, dressed professionally in a designer grey suit adorned with the badge of Kaapstad FC, opens the door of a black luxury sedan to a sleeping Kasak. Two other staff members start unloading seemingly endless amount of luggage, including several bags from Disneyland and Universal Studios.
“Mr Kasak… Mr…”
“Huh...oh...hi.” Kasak stirs blearily awake.
“It’s me, Theresa, we spoke on the phone, how were your flights?”
Kasak’s eyes widen as if taking his surroundings in for the first time. “Sorry, erm… is this Cape Town still? I was in LA, then London… then… Cairo?? Or was it Abu Dhabi?"
“Yes, this is Cape Town…”
“Thought I saw that Jimothy Erickson lad in London… can you believe it?”
“Yes…”
“I mean, I suppose they needed a defender, I kinda hoped they wanted a left winger, but, well it wasn’t to be...”
“Yes… Mr Kasak… Nick, please focus now.” Theresa’s professional veneer is being tested. “You are in Cape Town, at the Kaapstad training facility, I have all of your start paperwork ready for you after training, which starts in… 23 minutes.”
There is a moment while Kasak takes all this information in.
“What? Oh… is there somewhere I can…” Kasak leaps from the car, wired and ready.
“Yes, the changing room is just this way, your training kit and new boots are already there.”
-----
22 minutes later
As if the last 48 hours since the draft didn’t happen, Kasak steps out of the changing room and onto the training pitch. The grass in resplendent, the air here, somehow fresher than anywhere else he’d ever been. The scene before him is absolutely gorgeous.
If he thought’s Accra’s facilities were good, Kaapstad’s make Adowa’s look like a London Sunday League pitch on a wet November morning.
He breathes it in, immediately comfortable again on his favoured terrain, like he’d never left the football pitch. He touches the grass with his fingertips and closes his eyes.
He stands back up and looks upon his new stomping ground.
He’s ready.
About to break into a short sprint, a coach approaches.
“Hello Nick, welcome to Cape Town, I’m Manny, I’ll be taking the session with the midfielders today.”
“Oh, sorry, I thought this was for the forwards… oh I’ll speak to Theresa I guess.”
“No… there’s no mistake.” Manny looks at his clipboard and back to Nick, “it says it right here: Nick Kasak, defensive midfielder.”
Nick’s eyes widen as he mouths the word again.
“Defensive?”
The polite applause and cheers from the gathered crowd (already significantly smaller than for the first pick) are ringing in Nick’s ears. His cheeks flush, time slows down. He finds himself on his feet. Hands pat his back and reach for his own to shake. This is his moment, to savour and enjoy. After a long gruelling season of training in the heat of Ghana, facing devastating opposition to glory or despair. He finally gets to hear what the good and the great of the SSL have to say about this humble academy prospect who found his way to be first round draft pick.
The hubbub dies down, Kasak thanks his audience for the praise, and gets up to listen:
“And the 11th pick, Buenos Aires will have…”
Ah… he missed the bit with the things.
Kasak glances at the screen again, then to the crowd around him. He can always watch it again later.
“I’m going to Hollywood BABY!!!”
-----
Kasak is clutching a Pina Colada out of the top of the limo driving on Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood sign lingering in the distance, palm trees lining the street.
“Hollywood!!!” he screams with delight at no one in particular.
The homeless and the tourist that populate the cliched corner of tinseltown. Some of them wave back, including three different guys dressed as spiderman who point and wave.
Any locals have seen this all before.
Nick, sitting back down in the limo, decides to ask the driver some questions.
“So, Hollywood FC have a famous owner, right?”
“Sir, I wouldn’t know anything about that”, the driver replies curtly.
“Oh come on, you can tell me, its The Terminator, right?”
“I mean… I wouldn’t know, sir.”
“Tom Cruise? Brad? It’s Brad.” Kasak feels like he’s got the answer based on nothing but the driver’s silence. “I knew it.”
The limo turns down some more streets, weaving its merry way with it’s jolly passenger, heading towards the armoured gates that guard the training ground of the legendary multiple SSL Champions Hollywood FC.
-----
“What do you mean my name isn’t on the list? I’ve just been drafted to this team!!! Arnie’s team, right? Let me talk to Mr. Schwarzenegger.”
“I’m sorry Mr…. Kay-sack.” says the heavily armed Security Guard kindly. “I don’t have you or any new draftees coming down here today.”
“What!!!” Nick gesticulares widly “This is absurd!! Look, Brad wants me here!"
Guns ‘n’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle starts playing from Nick’s phone in his pocket and he abruptly answers.
“Hello, Nick Kasak... Inside Forward to the stars.” He winces at his odd choice of words.
“Oh hello Mr Kasak”, says a bright South African voice on the other end, “My name is Theresa, I’m your player Liaison from Kaapstad. We heard you didn’t manage to get on the flight to Cape Town we set up for you? You’re missing the Braai and Ice Cream Social with the other draftees.”
“Er… what? But I got drafted by Hollywood?”
“… erm, yes” Theresa tries to maintain her disbelief, “the organisation drafted you.. sir…”
“But… but…”
The pause is awkward.
“Mr Kasak, I need you to be honest with me right now.”
“Right.” Nick looks puzzled.
“Did ignore all of our paperwork and phone conversations, ignore your agent’s phonecalls and emails, and then fly yourself to Los Angeles, hire a limousine to drive you directly to the training ground?” Theresa’s voice is professional, with only a slight frustrated hint of judgement.”
“...Yes.” Says Nick, “I did do that, yes.”
“Ok, thankyou,” She replies, then whispering to someone else “You were right, it’s a code brown.”
“Sorry, code what?” Nick replies, confused.
“Nothing to worry about Mr Kasak, we will sort all of this for you.”
-------
27 hours and 2 layovers later.
Theresa, dressed professionally in a designer grey suit adorned with the badge of Kaapstad FC, opens the door of a black luxury sedan to a sleeping Kasak. Two other staff members start unloading seemingly endless amount of luggage, including several bags from Disneyland and Universal Studios.
“Mr Kasak… Mr…”
“Huh...oh...hi.” Kasak stirs blearily awake.
“It’s me, Theresa, we spoke on the phone, how were your flights?”
Kasak’s eyes widen as if taking his surroundings in for the first time. “Sorry, erm… is this Cape Town still? I was in LA, then London… then… Cairo?? Or was it Abu Dhabi?"
“Yes, this is Cape Town…”
“Thought I saw that Jimothy Erickson lad in London… can you believe it?”
“Yes…”
“I mean, I suppose they needed a defender, I kinda hoped they wanted a left winger, but, well it wasn’t to be...”
“Yes… Mr Kasak… Nick, please focus now.” Theresa’s professional veneer is being tested. “You are in Cape Town, at the Kaapstad training facility, I have all of your start paperwork ready for you after training, which starts in… 23 minutes.”
There is a moment while Kasak takes all this information in.
“What? Oh… is there somewhere I can…” Kasak leaps from the car, wired and ready.
“Yes, the changing room is just this way, your training kit and new boots are already there.”
-----
22 minutes later
As if the last 48 hours since the draft didn’t happen, Kasak steps out of the changing room and onto the training pitch. The grass in resplendent, the air here, somehow fresher than anywhere else he’d ever been. The scene before him is absolutely gorgeous.
If he thought’s Accra’s facilities were good, Kaapstad’s make Adowa’s look like a London Sunday League pitch on a wet November morning.
He breathes it in, immediately comfortable again on his favoured terrain, like he’d never left the football pitch. He touches the grass with his fingertips and closes his eyes.
He stands back up and looks upon his new stomping ground.
He’s ready.
About to break into a short sprint, a coach approaches.
“Hello Nick, welcome to Cape Town, I’m Manny, I’ll be taking the session with the midfielders today.”
“Oh, sorry, I thought this was for the forwards… oh I’ll speak to Theresa I guess.”
“No… there’s no mistake.” Manny looks at his clipboard and back to Nick, “it says it right here: Nick Kasak, defensive midfielder.”
Nick’s eyes widen as he mouths the word again.
“Defensive?”
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