Leblouche's diary

28. Bring (at least) the cup home!

It was 7:48 p.m., I was in a bar with a group of friends watching the Coupe de France final between AC Bastia* and FC Paris*.

*: To avoid copyright issues (even though I know nothing will happen to me but just to be safe), I changed the names of both teams in the story universe.

As a Bastia fan, I was extremely tense as I was glued to the screen, watching the score and the remaining playing time.

The game was tied at 1-1, and my team took a rather risky free kick in the 94th, which was their chance to win a trophy in a long time.

"...so Bastia will try an interesting free kick, but Jean-Pierre, do you think it's too far from the target to score?" said the TV commentator.

"Yes, it's too far, unless you have Roberto Carlos's leg, it would take a miracle for it to go in..."

" *Laughs* He isn't wrong Thierry, it's better for your team to waste time and go to extra time," a friend suggested ironically.

"Oh yeah? Well, I think it might go in, who knows. Besides, Andare's the one who's going to take it, with his shot, it's worth a try," I replied.

"Forget it dude. Andare, he was good when he was 25, but now... I'm not really feeling it..." another friend commented, taking a sip of beer.

"Okay, let's make a bet then. If he lights up the goal, Roger gives me 10 bucks."

"And if he misses, prepare 20. You'll see, he'll pass to Thomas Pesquet."

The free kick spot seemed far from the goal, not so far, but far enough to make any player hesitate.

"...Andare takes a great run-up, despite the distance, he is about to shoot!"

"All that just to miss..." said Roger.

"Don't be impatient, he hasn't moved yet," I retorted.

"The referee blows his whistle... He charges in, shoots... And it's a goal!" yelled the commentator.

" Yeah! Ha Ha! " I screamed with joy.

The atmosphere in the bar was electric, with all the Bastia fans present jumping and screaming with joy at the goal and Bastia's potential victory. It's true that I'm celebrating in enemy territory, but my euphoria made me forget this risk, as did all the other fans.

"So, Roger, what was I telling you? The machine may be old, but it still packs a punch! Come on, this way, the pennies..." I mocked, waving my hand at Roger to pay the bet.

Ultimately, my team was able to hold on for the last four minutes and won the match. After so many years without a trophy, we were crowned French champions. I was very happy for my club, but of course, I didn't show it in the streets of Paris and even hid my jersey as a precaution.

I rode home on my motorbike, tired but smiling. Suddenly, on the stairs, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. It was my brother Felix calling me. He must have watched the match too.

I picked up as I climbed the last few steps.

" Hello ? "

"DID YOU SEE THAT ?!" Felix yelled, as soon as the line opened.

I had to move the phone away from my ear or I would have lost an eardrum.

"Of course I saw it. I was in a bar full of Parisians. I almost got lynched for screaming."

"Damn, Andare ! At his age, he can hit a mammoth shot into the top corner ! I threw my chips against the wall because I couldn't believe it !"