Football: Salary System - Chapter 172: A New Voice (Patreon)

“Our performance in the second half was terrible. If Leipzig had been a little luckier, they would’ve had a chance to tie the game.

“Everyone needs to think about what happened. We can’t let it happen again next match.”

Having said his piece, Reus fell silent.

The team had won, and speeches were hardly his strength, so he had not planned to address the players at all.

It was Pepe who had asked him after the match to say something and give the younger players a stern reminder.

Now, though, Reus could not think of anything more to add.

Pepe scanned the room as he listened. The younger players were all nodding, but how many were truly taking the words to heart?

The Portuguese veteran sighed. He would have to speak up himself.

“Let me add something. I’m glad we won my first match, but Marco is right. Our second-half performance was terrible.

“I know the defense still needs time to gel, but the back line wasn’t the only problem after halftime. The whole team played like it was fighting relegation.”

Pepe stopped there. They had won, after all, and there was no reason to turn the dressing room into a public trial.

The other defenders agreed wholeheartedly. Their struggles to play out from the back had not been the defense’s fault alone.

Bürki felt that more strongly than anyone.

During matches, he shouted orders to organize the defense and had even earned the nickname “Amok Bürki” in Germany.

Off the pitch, however, he was a quiet man.

Despite rescuing his teammates with a string of brilliant second-half saves, he could not bring himself to stand up and criticize them.

Pepe had voiced exactly what Bürki was thinking. At last, someone in the back line was willing to speak openly.

Even veteran fullback Piszczek, the vice-captain, was the kind of leader who preferred to lead quietly.

...

Leipzig was about 410 kilometers from Dortmund, a bus journey of roughly three and a half hours.

Fortunately, it had been an early kickoff. Otherwise, the team would have had to spend the night in Leipzig.

On the return trip, Zayn approached Sancho with his tablet.

“Another match?” Sancho looked thoroughly miserable. “Who is Monaco playing this week?”

“Strasbourg.”

Sancho barely knew the club. A match between Monaco and Strasbourg held absolutely no appeal for someone who had just finished playing himself.

To Sancho, it was downright strange that Zayn could finish such a demanding away game and then spend the bus ride watching another, completely unrelated match instead of sleeping or gaming.

Was he planning to become a scout after retirement?

For all his silent complaints, Sancho obediently settled down beside Zayn to watch.

...

Dortmund’s team bus was made by MAN, the long-established German vehicle manufacturer that had been a club partner since 2010.

The bus they used that season was brand new, custom-built in August 2018 and only recently put into service.

Calling it a luxury lounge on wheels would hardly have been an exaggeration.

The cabin was extremely spacious. MAN’s original design even made provision for a complete kitchen module, allowing the club to set aside a cooking area for any needs that might arise on longer trips.

Dortmund passed on the kitchen, asking the manufacturer to install two facing conference tables with adjustable heights in its place.

With the supplied cushions laid over them, those tables could even turn into two flat massage beds, giving the medical staff somewhere to treat players’ tired muscles during long journeys.

Having played the full ninety minutes, Pepe was now stretched out on one of those beds while the medical staff worked on his muscles.

The Portuguese defender would turn thirty-six in a month. He was still in good shape, but he could not recover from matches as quickly as teammates in their early twenties.

In fact, the beds had mostly been used by veterans such as Schmelzer and Piszczek.

After a full session focused on his hamstrings, Pepe finally headed back to his seat.

As he passed through the middle of the cabin, he caught a glimpse of Zayn and Sancho huddled around a tablet, watching a football match.

Pepe found himself wondering much the same thing as Sancho.

How could those two watch football immediately after playing a match of their own?

Did they plan to become coaches after they retired?

Why start preparing before they were even twenty?

Pepe sat down beside his fellow Portuguese international Guerreiro and nudged him. “Zayn’s watching a game right after playing? Isn’t he tired?”

“He’s probably watching Monaco.”

“Monaco?”

“Yeah, during the winter transfer window, Zayn recommended that Monaco midfielder Tielemans to the club, so he’s been watching Monaco’s games a lot lately.”

Pepe barely knew Tielemans, but Guerreiro’s explanation warmed his heart.

“I guess this kid must have watched my games one by one just like that back then, too!”

Guerreiro thought back for a moment. He couldn’t say for sure about other times, but as far as he could recall, Zayn had never watched a single Turkish Super League match on the team bus.

Of course, Guerreiro was not about to say that aloud and upset his senior teammate from the national team.

In reality, Zayn’s fascination with Monaco had little to do with what the others imagined.

Zayn had been living his second life for more than a year now.

Over that time, the ripples from his changes to history had grown into ever larger waves.

No, by now Zayn himself had become the eye of the storm.

Many events had already diverged completely from the timeline he remembered.

What he wanted to know was whether events still followed their old course in places far removed from his influence, but with which he had at least some connection.

Monaco was the perfect test case.

In this life, Zayn had played Monaco in the Champions League group stage and recommended Tielemans to Dortmund, but that was the extent of his connection with the club. He had barely influenced them at all...

“Damn, another goal!”

Sancho’s voice snapped Zayn back from his wandering thoughts.

Sancho, who had been bored stiff at the start, was suddenly engrossed. The match had already produced six goals!

Few things were more exciting in football than goals, except perhaps an underdog pulling off an upset!

Just after the seventieth minute, Monaco were losing 5-1 at home to Strasbourg!

Admittedly, Strasbourg had been the stronger side in the league table, despite having returned to Ligue 1 only two seasons earlier...

By then, more than half the home supporters at Stade Louis II had walked out in disgust.

Sancho kept talking beside him.

“Monaco didn’t play this badly when they faced us. I don’t think this Tielemans is all that great…”

Zayn said nothing. He had seen enough.

History still had a powerful momentum of its own. Where Zayn had not intervened directly, drastic changes were unlikely.

“Looks like the Emperor is about to be fired.”

Sancho voiced what Zayn was thinking.