The Greatest of all Time-Novel

Zachary and his teammates left the dressing room after Coach Johansen's address. They passed by the VfB Stuttgart and Skonto Academy players in the hallways as they exited the pitch. The two teams were—slated to play in the next game.

The NF Academy squad joined the small crowd of home fans leaving the stadium. Several people craned their necks to look at Zachary. Others yelled in a language he didn't understand. But, he could tell they were trying to talk to him. It seemed he had gained some measure of fame among the fans of JFC Riga.

Zachary maintained a polite smile and continued moving along with the crowd. Each person in the troop of fans moved forward as if dragged by unseen hands.

Before long, Zachary and his teammates exited the indoor stadium.

At the gate, he was surprised to run into Marta Romano and her twin sister, Melissa. They were standing among a group of his classmates from the Tr?ndelag International School. Most were either Italians or Spaniards that were part of the international programs at his school.

"You guys are here!" Paul Otterson was the first to run forward to greet the entourage. "Aren't you supposed to be attending classes?" The Swede asked, looking at the group of ten from Trondheim.

"We wouldn't miss this tournament for anything," Melissa replied, smiling. Like her sister, she was—dressed in a stylish knee-length overcoat that obscured most of her gorgeous figure. "We arrived yesterday morning to give you some support here in the cup. As international students, we look out for our own." She added.

Paul grinned, hooking an arm across Melissa's shoulder. "That's great. The tournament will be a lot more fun with you guys around. Did you watch the match?" The Swede asked, his eyes darting from person to person in the group.

"We watched it. You guys were great." Melissa paused, turning her gaze towards Zachary. "I never knew you could play like that. You're really good at hiding your skills. Why aren't you playing for the Rosenborg team?" She asked, creasing her brow.

Zachary's left shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. He looked around and noticed that the rest of his classmates were looking at him in awe. It seemed they had also been impressed by his performance.

"Hello, everyone," he greeted them, trying his best to change the topic of conversation. He disliked being the center of attention whenever he was off the pitch. "It's good to see you. It's always nice to have some home support whenever we play."

His classmates returned the greeting, nodding in the process. Marta Romano winked at him when they shook hands. He mouthed the word 'later' and started looking about him, ignoring the chatter between the Ottersons, Kasongo, and the rest of his classmates. He walked to the side and started observing the rest of his teammates.

Most NF academy players were either greeting their parents or siblings who had traveled to support them in Riga. They exchanged hugs and sweet nothings—or whatever topics that made them laugh and grin from ear to ear, as Zachary watched on. Even the always-somber Coach Johansen was busy talking to his wife and daughter, seemingly having forgotten about the Genoa match that was about to begin. Everyone was happy that their families had traveled a long way to cheer them on.

At such moments, Zachary wished he had known his parents. He had never gotten the opportunity to see them in both his lifetimes.

Zachary felt like a juvenile, thinking about the issue, but there was not much he could do to push away the yearning. He resolved to have a serious talk with his grandma about his parents when he returned to Congo after going pro.

Marta Romano silently left the other group of his friends and stood by his side. "A penny for your thoughts," she said.

"Just thinking about life—and the next game," he replied with a smile, forcing himself to focus on the Italian. "I was surprised you came here with your sister. I never took you for a fan of soccer, like your sister." He added, diverting the topic.

Zachary had been under the impression she wasn't interested in soccer. Unlike her sister, she never bothered to watch Rosenborg's matches at Lerkendal, even when free match tickets were available.

Marta smiled softly. "I didn't come here for the football, but to watch you play. It seems you've been avoiding me since we returned from the Christmas holidays. What's up with that?" Her Italian accent colored her words.

Zachary sighed. "I've been busy preparing for the tournament. We haven't had time for classes or anything else." He paused, casting a casual glance around him. "And now, I have to go back to the hotel and shower, then watch the match between our next two opponents."

Zachary inclined his head to get a better look at the Italian. Marta was a beautiful girl with black hair woven into long braids, plunging over her shoulders. She had a long nose that was a perfect match with her deep black intelligent eyes.

"But, we can meet and talk on Friday," Zachary said. "That's the free day after our last group match. Is that okay with you?"

"It's a date then." Marta smiled. "Should I expect a tour around the city or something else?"

"Possibly," Zachary replied. "But I have to go now. Or my coach won't be pleased."

He had noticed that the bus had already arrived at the gate. Coach Johansen had already finished saying his goodbyes to his family. He was standing next to the bus, waiting for the players to wind-up their interactions. Coach Bj?rn was moving around, telling everyone to get on to the bus as soon as possible.

Marta smiled. "Okay. Remember to text me the time of our date. I'll be waiting. And, good luck in your next game. I'll be rooting for you in the stands."

Zachary, his teammates, and the coaches took the bus to the Monika Centrum Hotel. They quickly cleaned up and changed into new tracksuits in their rooms. Twenty minutes later, they were already in the Olympic Sports Center. They sat in the stands, among a few fans, watching the match between Genoa and BK Frem.

The match was a one-sided affair, with the Genoa Youth team dictating play. They attacked the Danish team from the first minute, with their wingers and midfielders making multiple attempts, at goal, within the first few minutes. Their team chemistry was perfect. It seemed they had been playing together for a long time.

They were—arrayed in a 4-3-3 formation with no marked weakness showing in their style of play. Genoa's typical defense of two center-backs and two full-backs managed to stop the BK Frem players from making many shots on goal.

The Italian team played with three central midfielders who would occasionally form triangles and play with quick touches, transitioning from the defense to the striking. They conquered and dominated the midfield and sealed off most of BK Frem's chances.

Genoa's attacking force consisted of three strikers, a central one and two who played on the flanks. The two strikers on the sides were all-round attacking players with good pace and shooting ability, often using their speed on the wings to cut in towards the goal. The central striker was a powerful target man—and sometimes dropped deep into the box to drag defenders away and leave space for the wide forwards to score.

In the 13th minute, the Genoa number-11 managed to dribble from the wing and score the first goal. In the 20th minute, the central striker latched on to a cross inside the six-yard box and netted the second goal. Six minutes later, the third striker scored another goal.

Zachary watched—attentively as Genoa scored goal after goal throughout the one-sided match. The tall Genoa central striker quickly pulled off a hat-trick while the other forwards on the flanks got a brace each. By the 80th minute, Genoa was seven goals ahead of the BK Frem team. The Danish team had yet to put one in the back of the net.

"Genoa will be a tough opponent," Kendrick, seated on the right of Zachary, commented. "We have to find a way to freeze their two wingers to win. Otherwise, we'll suffer the same fate as BK Frem." He added, shaking his head.

"We must win the game against BK Frem to qualify for the knockouts," Zachary intoned. "I don't want to risk playing Genoa without six points in the bag." The Genoa team was good with a well-balanced squad that almost had no weaknesses.

"I'm not worried about BK Frem," Kendrick said, smiling. "Look at them. They have not gotten any shots on target since the game began. Do you think we could lose against such a team?"

Zachary creased his brow, turning to the side to gaze at his friend. "Kendrick," he intoned, his tone somber. "Are you forgetting what just happened to us in the second half? You can never be sure of winning a game until you have dominated the other side. Otherwise, betting companies would have run bankrupt ages ago. Do you remember the game between Senegal and France in the 2002 World Cup? Or Greece versus Portugal in the Euros?" He asked, locking gazes with his flatmate.

Kendrick was about to reply, but their conversation was interrupted by a sweet feminine voice originating from Zachary's left side. "Hello, Zachary. Can I have your autograph?"

Zachary was surprised. He had only played a single game in Riga. It was a shock that someone was already asking for his autograph. He wasn't Messi or anyone famous—yet. He looked to the side and saw the delicate face of a beautiful young woman. Her blue eyes, like the sea, were calm and emotionless. She had long, wavy dark brown hair—so smooth and silky, almost as if tailored from fabric.

"Who are you?" Zachary managed a reply after a few seconds. However, his voice came out an octave higher than intended.

The lady smiled, her eyes gaining and exuding a slight warmth. "I'm Emily Anderson. And, I think I'm your biggest fan." She spoke in a classic British accent—like a BBC news anchor. "Won't you give me that autograph and maybe have a cup of coffee with me?"

Zachary remained silent, frowning. He could feel Kendrick pocking his right side when he delayed giving the lady a reply. "Bro," he whispered. "What are you waiting for? She won't kidnap you in broad daylight. You're much stronger than her—for God's sake. Just say yes. I'll inform the Coach that you just returned to the hotel to rest."

"I promise I'm not a con woman," the lady cut in. "And, I've got a lot of info about each of the teams participating in the Riga Cup. We can talk solely about football over coffee. No need to get flustered." She added, smiling softly.

"You see," Kendrick chipped in. "A cup of coffee is good for relaxation after a hectic game like the one we just played today morning."

Zachary first looked back at the pitch before answering. Team Genoa had just scored their eighth goal of the game. They were leading the group due to their remarkable goal difference of eight goals. There was nothing left to see in the game.

Zachary returned his attention to the woman. He could tell that she wasn't anything like a fangirl, following a star to get an autograph. She looked more like an office type, calculating, and good at dealing with people.

He decided to head out with her and hear what she had to say. He had a feeling he would regret rejecting the meeting.

"Okay," he said to the lady. "Let's go get some coffee."

He first told Kendrick to cover for him before leading the way out of the indoor stadium.