Red Zone: The Greatest Ever

Narrator: Ali

The final whistle was blown. Hell yeah, the match ended with a win for Team L. I dropped another stinker today, but no problem, there was always the next match. 

SANTI called up his sulking brother and SANCHÉZ. They were to join our team now. As per the rules, they had no choice. SANTI was the man of the match.

He replaced them with our No.7 and Steward. The exchange was concluded, and we all left the pitch to refresh ourselves and prepare to watch the next games. 

SANTI and his brother were inseparable. I can't say the same for JAMES and SANCHÉZ, though. I mean, I get that losing can be hard, but like, why are they so repulsed by each other? Maybe they realize it. We had two strikers on the team and only one winger.

Horrible team dynamic if you ask me. We had barely settled into our current formation. I and NAKAMURA were still dropping stinkers left and right. Now was not the time to ruin our organization.

We had lunch, and immediately after, I brought this up, stressing that SANTI did whatever he wanted without consulting the team, and I thought that was unfair. We were a team; we matter too. We deserve to be consulted.

I was scared he would kick me out soon enough. I mean, I had played so badly in our last two games, and like hell I'd let him kick me out. His brother did not let me finish my statement. In a very disrespectful tone, he told me to shut my hoe ahh up.

I protested, but his arrogant ass just kept talking over me, like I was some insect that did not matter. He said this: "My wise brother knew that with me on the team, we would be unstoppable. After all, there is no one at Red Zone better than I am. I'm the best player in the world, and I'm going pro next year."

He continued with this: "He has the vision to make us champions here, and he has brought me, the tool to make that dream come true. You should all be grateful to have me. I'm like Zidane, only better—much better than he could ever be."

I looked at him and laughed hysterically at him. What a fool. I told him he had no business being the best player in Red Zone.

He wasn't even the best on this team. SANTI was much better. The only way he could have proven otherwise was on the field of play, and we all knew SANTI dogged him there yesterday. Plus, all he was doing was destabilizing the team and making enemies out of us.

His response was this: "I do not care about you weaklings. I am only here to win, and that's what I'm gonna do—win and continue winning till the very end. I am the best, and if you don't believe it, you're wrong. I am the best player on this team, hands down. Even the greatest players sometimes lose games.

That takes nothing from their greatness. I am Folayemi Omolade, and there's no one alive or dead better than me. I own the game of football, and it bends solely to my will."

His arrogance had me speechless. I would understand if it was SANTI saying all of this, not his brother, the one we just dunked on. He was so shameless. I told him to let the matter go, but that whatever happens next is all on him. We don't win, I am blaming him. He sucks. He was an animal, plain and simple.

He addressed the team now. He said having two strikers was not a problem. We would play with a four-three-one-two formation. Both strikers will play together in their natural position. That way, we have a level of striking freedom.

SANTI would play in his natural position, as a false nine, right behind the two strikers. He would carve out the defense with his creativity. That way, by dragging attention toward himself, the strikers get a bit of freedom, and if the strikers get all the attention, he'll be free to unleash as many vicious shots as he would love to.

SANTI would, however, drop back a bit sometimes. That way, we could have a box midfield. FOLA and SANTI would play as number tens, while our No.8 and 6 would play a bit deeper. The rest of the team remains the same, though.

I hated this idiot, but I had to applaud his tactical ability. He was good—very good, too good, in fact. This should work; it technically would. He was not done, though. FOLA had more to say—a lot more, more than was necessary, if we are being real.

He pointed at NAKAMURA and told him that he needed to work on his positioning, blaming all the goals scored on NAKAMURA.

He said he had noticed NAKAMURA was far more comfortable inside the goalpost than outside of it. If that would help us concede fewer goals, he should stick to that.

He said that and almost immediately, he switched his attention to me. He said that I sucked—badly—almost like I was trying not to overexert myself. He claimed that I needed to do better or maybe leave the team because I was holding it back. He finished by saying that the rest of the defense had no hope, and he just wanted them to not hold us back.

They did not take that well, and it soon became a full-blown argument. SANCHÉZ, of course, agreed with his Daddy (FOLA), but JAMES and SANTI refused to say anything, almost like it was not important.

Wait a minute, this was all SANTI's fault. If he had not brought this arrogant piece of shit here, we most certainly would not be here. I turned toward him, and almost immediately, his brother turned all of his attention toward me and told me to back off.

I pushed him, and he pushed me back. Oh well, you wanna fight? Let's fucking go. Before our fists could connect, though, SANTI screamed at everyone to stop. He started his speech by claiming we were a team, and it was in everyone's best interests that we remain one. We already have enough opposition from outside the team.

He continued with this: "I brought SANCHÉZ and my brother onto this team because I knew they were necessary ingredients to win.

I had already calculated everything my brother said about our lineup during the match. So, let's keep our fists to ourselves, retain our energy for training, and conserve the anger and hate for our opponents."

Everyone agreed with him, almost like he had just told them the sun was hot. They just simply agreed with him. It was not like they just agreed with him or something. I think it was a thing about respect. That's just what I think. They respected him, or at least they thought he was worth respecting.

SANTI was mature—very mature. I noticed it from the time he spoke to me. He was also very intelligent. He can be a bit extreme, like when he told his brother that he (SANTI) was happy he (his brother) was alive and well.

What was he expecting? His brother dead?

I mean, he did say he would make his brother lose, and maybe that had something to do with it, but "alive" seemed a bit extreme all the same. SANTI was an illusion, and no, I don't mean how he plays, although you could say that about how he plays, but I am talking about his appearance.

He was not very tall. I mean, he was not short, yes, but he was not very tall either—maybe 5'5", if I'm being generous, that is. He also had a baby face. That was bad enough, but his voice was not the thickest either. It did not matter to me because he was a monster on the field, but now, I really wanted to know how old he was.

I asked to see his smart-watch and scrolled till I got to his personal information. Bro, wait a minute. Before we get to that, SANTI's stats read: Games Played: 2, W:1/D:0/L:1, Goals Scored: 5, Assists: 2, Points: 9, Ranking: 2 (Attack), Overall Rating: 9.94, Lowest Rating: 9.87, Highest Rating: 10.0. Bro, what the fuck are these demonic stats?

Plus, how was he number two in Ranking? Who could possibly have better stats than this? I was in for a bigger shock, though. When I went to his personal information, Blood type: O-, okay, Age: 15, okay, wait, wait a fucking minute, what did they mean by Age: 15? I looked at SANTI perplexed and could just stare in disbelief.

I thought Steward, our former No.11 who was 16 and almost 17, was the youngest here, but there was someone even younger than him? Someone who was not even 16? If he was this good at this age, what would he be like when he was older?

Stuttering, I asked him, "You are so good at football. How don't you brag like your brother?" SANTI looked at me perplexed, and for the first time, I saw his dark alter ego. He said to me, "Brag? I don't need to brag. My football does the bragging for me.

I was speechless even though I had a million things to say, I saved it though, I had to improve, I had to become better and more important to my team than SANTI, I have to be the best, I must, one thing was clear, SANTI is a MONSTER.........…..