If you’re enjoying the story, consider voting to show your support. Feel free to join on Discord to chat and share your thoughts: sdiscord.gg/hTQJtj2K9U.
#More than 10 Chapters ahead on my Patreon: spatreon/c/TrikoRex. If you have a mont, leaving a review would an a lot to and help see who’s interested in the story’s future.
~~~
[2021-05-01 | A3, Frankfurt| 12:35 CET]
"You guys hungry?" Simba asked, gazing at the rear-view mirror at the two young n in the back seat. Wirtz wore an eye mask, seemingly dozing off, and Rakim gazed out of the window, listening to music through his headphones.
"Looks like they are still tired from yesterday’s shenanigans." Hans-Joachim Wirtz, the father and agent, an elderly man in his mid-seventies, comnted from the passenger seat. "The kids were up until 2 in the morning, honestly, they deserve so rest."
"Agreed, but neither of them would agree to opt out of this tournant." Simba agreed, deftly manoeuvring the steering wheel of the 2020 Cayenne Coupe, pressing down on the accelerator. "How did Florian’s recovery go? Is he a hundred per cent, or are there so concerns?"
Hans-Joachim adjusted his glasses, considering the question carefully. "Physically? The doctors cleared him two weeks ago. Full range of motion, no pain, passed all the stress tests." He paused, glancing back at his sleeping son. "ntally, though, he’s been pushing himself harder than ever. Almost like he’s trying to make up for lost ti."
"That’s good," Simba noted, rging into the left lane to pass a slower truck. "But he needs to be careful not to overdo it. International football is a different beast—longer tournants, less recovery ti between matches."
"I’ve told him as much," Hans-Joachim sighed. "But you know how these kids are, they think they’re invincible. They want to get to the next destination as fast as possible without looking back."
"Well, I guess that’s what makes them as good as they are," Simba added with a light smile. "Not being satisfied and aiming to reach a new ceiling."
"Indeed, they will both be fine," he responded, adjusting his glasses. "What are your thoughts on this tournant?"
"Well, are you asking about the team or the boys?" Simba asked, glancing over for a mont.
"Both"
"Well, the team’s prospects are honestly not that good," He comnted after taking a deep breath. "The players are all great and should be able to compete against the big nations, but there is a crucial flaw in Löw’s tactics."
"Hmm, please explain," Hans-Joachim said, clearly interested in this African man’s take. "We have so of the greatest players of our ti, and arguably Die Mannschaft under Löw is the best-balanced squad."
"Well, the answer is simple under Löw’s tactic, which is possession-based, slowly strangling their opponents. The lack of a reliable target or complete striker is a major flaw." He coolly analysed, pointing out how every other position had almost three players fighting for spots. "While the ga has evolved, favouring more dynamic strikers who can link up with the midfield to help them break through, Germany doesn’t need that."
"Wouldn’t that go against the trend of football? Is that even a possible choice for the national team?" Hans asked, clearly not convinced despite seeing the logic. "Plus, with Kross and Gundogan’s tendency, they are likely to sit back in midfield, and Muller is also getting old. A dynamic forward dropping into space could alleviate the pressure."
"Then why did we win the 2014 World Cup?" Simba simply asked but answered the question. "While it did involve luck, we had players like Khehdira and Ozil who could run at their opponents and create opportunities for their teammates."
"Now look at the midfielders coming into the team," he continued, listing players who were making their nas in the past two seasons. "Brndt, Wirtz, and Musiala are all players with the ability and tendency to drive at their opponents and create chances. To players like them, a striker dropping deep just unnecessarily crowds the space and creates another opportunity."
"Still, the trends don’t lie, just look at England’s Harry Kane, or Italy’s striker line-up," Hans argued. "With the ga moving faster, a forward who can link with the ga is necessary; the era of Mario Goz’s is coming to an end."
"In club football it may be so, but for the German national team a striker like that is absolutely necessary." Simba countered, manoeuvring the car onto the exit lane. "Just think about most of our attacks co from crosses after forcing opponents to compact their defence. If we had a forward who could command presence and win aerial duels, that would open up space for the wingers and midfielders to do more."
"What you’re saying makes sense, but I don’t see a possibility of change right now," Hans honestly said, throwing up the white flag. "I just want the boys’ first international campaign to be a success."
~~~
[2021-05-01 | Hoground, Herzogenaurach, Germany | 14:00 CET]
The Adidas HQ training base, dubbed Hoground, was a sight to behold. Sprawling across several acres in the heart of Franconia, the complex was a testant to German engineering and football culture. Sleek modern buildings with floor-to-ceiling windows sat beside pristine training pitches, each blade of grass perfectly maintained. A massive "Ho of German Football" banner hung from the main facility.
Simba pulled the matte black Cayenne into the designated parking area, where several other luxury vehicles were already parked—G-Wagons, Range Rovers, Porsches, the usual footballer fleet. A security guard checked their credentials before waving them through to the player entrance.
"We’re here," Simba announced, though neither Rakim nor Wirtz needed telling.
Wirtz pulled off his eye mask, blinking against the afternoon sun. "Finally. My back’s killing ."
"That’s what happens when you sleep in a car for three hours," Rakim said, pulling out his earbuds and stretching. He grabbed his bag from the trunk, a black Rimowa carry-on containing his personal belongings, as the team would provide clothes.
Hans-Joachim led the way toward the entrance, where a DFB official waited with a clipboard and tablet. "Willkomn! You must be Wirtz and Rex. We’ve been expecting you."
"Traffic was worse than expected," Hans explained.
"No problem, no problem. Most of the squad is in Austria for the friendly against Denmark, so you can relax and settle in." The staff mber, who, according to his Lanyard, was nad Finn, said, "Let’s get you settled into your rooms. Let show you to the reception."
They followed him through the automatic doors into a stylish lobby that looked more like a tech startup than a football facility. Rakim noticed the walls were lined with photographs of legendary German players, World Cup victories, and Euro triumphs. Beckenbauer, Matthäus, Kahn, Lahm, history staring down at him, and the only thing they had in common was the three stripes.
"Your room assignnts are already sorted," he continued, tapping on his tablet. "Wirtz, you’re in Building C, Room 347. Rex, you’re in Building C, Room 351. Neighbours, essentially."
"Convenient," Wirtz muttered.
Finn led them through a series of corridors, each more impressive than the last. They marvelled at the facility’s engineering, a perfect blend of modern functionality and football tradition, with glass and steel mixed with wooden accents and team morabilia. They passed a state-of-the-art gym that looked like an empty museum, then a recovery room with cryotherapy chambers and massage tables.
"Building C is our residential wing," Finn explained as they exited through a covered walkway into another structure. "Each room has two beds, a private bathroom, a workspace, and an entertainnt system. The WiFi password is on the welco packet in your rooms. Breakfast is 7-8 AM, lunch 12-1 PM, dinner 6-7 PM. Training schedule will be posted daily."
They took an elevator to the third floor, erging into a quiet hallway with plush carpeting that muffled their footsteps. Room numbers were marked on sleek plaques beside each door.
"Here we are," Finn stopped at 347. "Wirtz, this is you. Your roommate is Jamal Musiala—he’s at the friendly but should be back tomorrow evening." He handed Wirtz a keycard. "And Rex, you’re just down here at 351. Your roommate is Gnabry, also at the friendly."
Rakim took his keycard without a word. "Any questions?" Finn asked.
"Are there other players here?" Rakim asked.
"Just a few who were excused from the Denmark trip—Neuer stayed back for treatnt on a minor knock, and a couple others are doing individual recovery work. Most of the squad will return tomorrow evening, then you’ll have your first full training session on the third."
"Thanks," Hans-Joachim said, shaking Finn’s hand. "We’ll take it from here."
"Willkomn to Die Mannschaft," Finn said with a smile before heading back down the corridor.
.
.
.
.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Reviews
All reviews (0)