- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
- TNP Nation
- Prydania
- Discord
- lordgigaice
Two days before the start of the 2017 World Cup in Alemriche
Jakob Höj sat, taking his straw hat off, setting it by his feet. He'd met everyone, shaken hands. Now it was time to interview. He sighed. This was going to be hard...
And then the red lights on the cameras clicked on.
"My name," the man in the GRK polo shirt opposite him said as the interview began.
"I'm Olof Holmström, from GRK. And I'm here with Jakob Höj. Manager of the Prydanian national team. I understand that you must be very busy with the tournament coming up, Mr. Höj. So thank you for taking time to speak with us."
Jakob smiled. He spoke fluent Gojan despite being from Býkonsviði.
"It's my pleasure," he said. He meant it. He was busy, but he felt it was important to do this.
"I won't mince words," Olof began.
"As we're all about to start off this tournament of football. The fighting in Prydania has intensified. FRE forces are now poised to strike at Býkonsviði."
Jakob just nodded, looking down slightly.
"When the fighting is over..." Olof continued.
"When Býkonsviði is once again its old vibrant self... what will you do?"
Jakob kept looking down for a moment.
He processed what that meant to him. He was form Býkonsviði. And in 1969 he'd been part of the Prydanian World Cup winning team. He'd ended up signing with Stade de Saintes FC in Saintonge because of that tournament. He'd played his entire rest of his career there... and when he retired he was offered a coaching job.
He never had any intention of leaving Prydania but life just took him elsewhere. For a while it didn't bother him. He could go home in the off-season.
But then Anders happened. And then the Syndicalists happened. And he couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't be there when his parents passed. He didn't know if his sister and her family were still alive despite his inquiries to the Santonian foreign offices.
When open Civil War broke out the feckless drullusokkur who ran CEFA had to concede and admit Prydania was a nation divided. The Football Federation was removed from the Syndicalist Republic and run by CEFA directly. And they needed a coach.
Jakob was a good choice. He'd been coaching in Saintonge for years, even before the turmoil that engulfed his country. He was seen as "neutral."
And for a man who was desperate to do something... he jumped at it.
But Olof's question echoed in his head.
"When the fighting is over..." he said softly.
"I will go find my family. And I'll walk with them around the city, and visit the churches."
He smiled softly.
"I love Býkonsviði," he continued, fighting the urge to tear up.
"To me, it's the greatest city in the world. And I can't wait to see it again."
Olof nodded, but had to say something.
"I don't think there are any churches left in Býkonsviði."
Jakob bit the inside of his lower lip but grinned.
"There will be. Again. Soon."
Technically the Prydanian Football Federation in its current form was apolitical. He was supposed to stay neutral in the War.
But he didn't care. The Syndicalists had ravaged his country, and it was almost over. The FRE, Goyanean, and Andrennian coalition was pushing on the capital. Soon the Syndicalists would be gone. And he wouldn't hold back. Besides... the pro-Syndie players on the team had all finally jumped ship after the Harrying of Hadden.
So he grinned when he spoke about the Syndicalists' imminent fall.
"What does this mean?" Olof asked.
"This tournament? What does it mean to your countrymen watching? And to your team?"
Jakob nodded. He'd dare Santo Giacalone to fire him.
"That when their country was hurting, these men played for them. And when these men are old and grey, and they tell their children about when they were young and strong, they'll tell the children of a peaceful Prydania about a time of war and football. And how they played for their people and shocked the world."
"Shocked the world?" Olof asked.
"Já," Jakob said with a smirk.
Olof nodded. He admired the man's drive to lead his team in a situation like this but the 2013 "neutral" Prydanian team had been eliminated in the group stage and the 2015 team hadn't qualified. He wasn't sure what they could do this tournament? Maybe if they could have a good group stage showing? But he wasn't going to piss on the parade of man trying to lead a war-torn country's team.
"I think I speak for most people when I wish you and your squad the best Mr. Höj."
"Thank you Olof," he replied happily. Soon the interview would be over. And he'd get back to work.
Jakob Höj sat, taking his straw hat off, setting it by his feet. He'd met everyone, shaken hands. Now it was time to interview. He sighed. This was going to be hard...
And then the red lights on the cameras clicked on.
"My name," the man in the GRK polo shirt opposite him said as the interview began.
"I'm Olof Holmström, from GRK. And I'm here with Jakob Höj. Manager of the Prydanian national team. I understand that you must be very busy with the tournament coming up, Mr. Höj. So thank you for taking time to speak with us."
Jakob smiled. He spoke fluent Gojan despite being from Býkonsviði.
"It's my pleasure," he said. He meant it. He was busy, but he felt it was important to do this.
"I won't mince words," Olof began.
"As we're all about to start off this tournament of football. The fighting in Prydania has intensified. FRE forces are now poised to strike at Býkonsviði."
Jakob just nodded, looking down slightly.
"When the fighting is over..." Olof continued.
"When Býkonsviði is once again its old vibrant self... what will you do?"
Jakob kept looking down for a moment.
He processed what that meant to him. He was form Býkonsviði. And in 1969 he'd been part of the Prydanian World Cup winning team. He'd ended up signing with Stade de Saintes FC in Saintonge because of that tournament. He'd played his entire rest of his career there... and when he retired he was offered a coaching job.
He never had any intention of leaving Prydania but life just took him elsewhere. For a while it didn't bother him. He could go home in the off-season.
But then Anders happened. And then the Syndicalists happened. And he couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't be there when his parents passed. He didn't know if his sister and her family were still alive despite his inquiries to the Santonian foreign offices.
When open Civil War broke out the feckless drullusokkur who ran CEFA had to concede and admit Prydania was a nation divided. The Football Federation was removed from the Syndicalist Republic and run by CEFA directly. And they needed a coach.
Jakob was a good choice. He'd been coaching in Saintonge for years, even before the turmoil that engulfed his country. He was seen as "neutral."
And for a man who was desperate to do something... he jumped at it.
But Olof's question echoed in his head.
"When the fighting is over..." he said softly.
"I will go find my family. And I'll walk with them around the city, and visit the churches."
He smiled softly.
"I love Býkonsviði," he continued, fighting the urge to tear up.
"To me, it's the greatest city in the world. And I can't wait to see it again."
Olof nodded, but had to say something.
"I don't think there are any churches left in Býkonsviði."
Jakob bit the inside of his lower lip but grinned.
"There will be. Again. Soon."
Technically the Prydanian Football Federation in its current form was apolitical. He was supposed to stay neutral in the War.
But he didn't care. The Syndicalists had ravaged his country, and it was almost over. The FRE, Goyanean, and Andrennian coalition was pushing on the capital. Soon the Syndicalists would be gone. And he wouldn't hold back. Besides... the pro-Syndie players on the team had all finally jumped ship after the Harrying of Hadden.
So he grinned when he spoke about the Syndicalists' imminent fall.
"What does this mean?" Olof asked.
"This tournament? What does it mean to your countrymen watching? And to your team?"
Jakob nodded. He'd dare Santo Giacalone to fire him.
"That when their country was hurting, these men played for them. And when these men are old and grey, and they tell their children about when they were young and strong, they'll tell the children of a peaceful Prydania about a time of war and football. And how they played for their people and shocked the world."
"Shocked the world?" Olof asked.
"Já," Jakob said with a smirk.
Olof nodded. He admired the man's drive to lead his team in a situation like this but the 2013 "neutral" Prydanian team had been eliminated in the group stage and the 2015 team hadn't qualified. He wasn't sure what they could do this tournament? Maybe if they could have a good group stage showing? But he wasn't going to piss on the parade of man trying to lead a war-torn country's team.
"I think I speak for most people when I wish you and your squad the best Mr. Höj."
"Thank you Olof," he replied happily. Soon the interview would be over. And he'd get back to work.