The Twelth Player

Chapter 11

Football's a funny game. One minute you feel like you're on top of the world, and the next, reality smacks you in the face. But today's Union match? It wasn't just football—it was a full-on show. The stadium turned into a cauldron of energy.

The moment I stepped out of the tunnel onto the pitch, the noise hit me like a wave. The fans were already chanting their first battle cry, one I could probably yell in my sleep:

"Union! Union! Immer weiter, wir sind hier, um zu gewinnen!"

Flags whipped through the air like angry dragons, flares behind the goal bathed the stands in fiery red light, and our mascot—a penguin, of all things—was bouncing around, waving a massive scarf. Not exactly what you'd picture for a hardcore football club, but people loved him. Just like they loved singing our anthem, "Das Stadion brennt." Every time they started, in perfect unison, I'd get goosebumps.

We might only be third league, but the atmosphere here? It could put most top-tier clubs to shame. It wasn't just a game—it was something that united all of us: players, fans, coaches, anyone with Union in their heart.

As we lined up, the air was electric. The fans' pressure on the opposition started before the first whistle even blew. Flags, drums, flares—it was pure chaos. For a moment, everything around me faded. It was just me and the pitch. Nothing else mattered.

The game was rough, full of hard tackles, but we held our ground. The fans didn't stop singing, not for a second. When I had the ball and was running for goal, I could hear them shouting my name: "Matti! Matti!" That's what kept me going. Pass, shot, cross—it all flowed like second nature.

Then the chance came. A perfect cross, I leapt up, and bang—headed it straight into the back of the net. Goal. The stadium exploded. My ears were ringing, but I didn't care. I ran straight to the supporters' section as scarves flew into the air. It was one of those moments that reminded me why this game, this atmosphere, was my life.

Elina: A Sweet Debut

While Matti was battling for points on the pitch, I had my own challenge: my first day behind the counter at the stadium bakery stall. Brigi told me I'd do fine, but honestly? I was nervous. Really nervous.

I started baking early that morning, pulling inspiration from back home in Latvia. Fresh yeast rolls stuffed with meat, gooey cinnamon buns that melted in your mouth, and my personal favorite—sklandrausis, little pies filled with carrot and potato. It felt strange offering something so simple, but Brigi insisted it would be a hit.

At the stall, I tried to hide my nerves behind a smile. Fans streamed by, some stopping to check out my pastries. "What's this?" they'd ask. When I explained the recipes and where they came from, they got curious and decided to give them a try. And to my surprise? They loved them.

"This cinnamon roll is amazing. So soft!"

"Wait, carrot in a pie? This is actually good!"

With each customer, I started to relax. Even the tougher-looking fans, the ones who initially seemed like they'd just grunt and walk away, ended up buying something. One guy with a Union tattoo on his arm grabbed five sklandrausis and waved at me. "You gotta keep making these—these are awesome!"

I felt proud. Something I thought was so ordinary suddenly became part of something bigger. Seeing fans carrying my pastries back to their seats filled me with a sense of accomplishment. It wasn't like scoring a goal, but for me, it was a little victory.

At the End of the Day

When the match was over, and I met up with Matti, we were both exhausted but happy. The stadium still smelled faintly of burnt flares, and the fans' songs echoed faintly in the distance.

"So, how was your first day?" Matti asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"Nerve-wracking, but totally worth it," I said with a smile.

He looked at me, then at the box of leftover sklandrausis I was holding.