Football singularity

Chapter 792: Chapter 792 Breakfast Of Champions

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[2021-06-02 | Homeground, Herzogenaurach, Germany | 06:45 CET]

Rakim’s internal clock woke him before the alarm, to a dark room, heavy curtains blocking out the early-morning light. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. The bed was comfortable enough, but it couldn’t compare to his Egyptian cotton bed and pure French flax linen.

Even he had to admit he had got used to a certain kind of luxury at home, but he wasn’t complaining, as he was used to different beds on road trips. As long as he brought his pillow, he could sleep on a rock. Across the room, Gnabry’s bed was empty, still perfectly made from when he’d left for Austria. Rakim sat up, running a hand through his hair, then reached for his phone on the nightstand.

[6:47 AM]

Me: Good morning, babe

He sent a quick text to May before swinging his legs out of bed, feet hitting the cool floor. Walking to the curtains, he opened them, letting the morning sun stream into the room. The view was actually decent, rolling green hills in the distance, the training pitches visible below, morning mist still clinging to the grass.

Herzogenaurach was a small town with a population of maybe 25,000, but it was football royalty. Adidas was born here, so was Puma, which was actually started by Adi Dassler’s brother after a family feud. The entire town basically ran on sports apparel money, creating its own kingdom.

Enjoying the view for a good moment, he turned to the bathroom, quickly going through his morning routine. He changed into the DFB-provided workout clothes and grabbed his Beats headphones before heading for the door. The hallway was empty, resembling that of a four-star hotel in its neatness.

Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, he headed to the gym, eager to check out the state-of-the-art facilities. He knew this equipment was on par with the Nike equipment he had used at camps there in his younger years. There is no way Adidas, the oldest sports brand, especially in football boots, would lose to them.

The facility was empty, but it still met all his expectations, neatly equipped and polished, with traditional and state-of-the-art machines. "Fweeet, is that a Technogym Skillrun?" he muttered, walking over to inspect the treadmill that looked like it belonged in a NASA facility.

The machine had a curved running surface and what appeared to be a resistance parachute system built into it. He was about to try it when he heard footsteps behind him. "Morning," a voice called out in German.

Rakim turned to see a man in his late thirties, fit and wearing Adidas training gear with "DFB PERFORMANCE" stitched on the chest. "You must be Rex. I’m Andreas Schlumberger, head of performance and rehabilitation."

"Morning," Rakim replied, shaking his hand. "I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here already."

Early bird gets the worm." Andreas smiled. "You want a quick tour, or are you good to work out on your own?"

"I’m good, thanks. Just doing some light activation work."

"Perfect. Don’t overdo it—we have medicals at 10 AM. Just mobility and blood work today since you missed yesterday’s session."

"Got it."

Andreas left him to it, and Rakim spent the next forty-five minutes going through his routine: resistance band work, dynamic stretching, some core activation, and a light jog on the regular treadmill. Nothing intense, just enough to get the blood flowing and shake off the previous day’s travel.

~~~

By 7:30 AM, he was showered and heading to the dining hall, stomach rumbling. The dining facility was massive and cafeteria-style, with a modern, upscale design. Spaciocios’ four-seater restaurant tables with bench and chair seating, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the green forest are built into the facility’s design.

The buffet spread could feed an army: fresh bread, cold cuts, cheeses, yoghurt, fruit, eggs made to order, smoothie station, the works. Only a handful of people were scattered around the room, support staff mostly, a few early risers. Rakim walked around, filling his plate according to the designated nutritionist’s menu, until he spotted a familiar face at a table near the window.

"Tah!" he called out, grabbing a tray.

Jonathan Tah looked up from his plate of scrambled eggs and smiled. "Rakim! When did you get in?"

"Yesterday afternoon. You?"

"Late last night. Traffic was brutal." Tah gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Join me."

Rakim set his tray down and slid into the seat across from Tah. His plate was loaded with scrambled eggs, whole-grain toast, avocado slices, smoked salmon, and a side of fresh berries. A protein smoothie sat beside it, still cold from the station.

"Eating like a champion," Tah observed with a grin. "Though I guess you are one now."

"We," Rakim corrected, pointing his fork at Tah. "We are champions. You lifted the same trophies I did remember?"

"True," Tah said, his expression softening slightly. "Still feels surreal, honestly. I keep expecting to wake up and find out it was all a dream."

"Same," Rakim admitted, cutting into his eggs. "Especially the final. That extra-time goal still doesn’t feel real."

"It was real, trust me. I was defending for my life, trying to make sure you had a chance to score it." Tah shook his head, reaching for his orange juice. "Agüero and Jesus were relentless. Every time I thought we’d cleared it, they were back."

"You were immense," Rakim said genuinely. "Dias too, for City. That block on Schick in the first half was insane."

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the stillness as the mental fatigue lifted somewhat. More people began to slowly trickle in, mostly staff and some players who weren’t selected for the Denmark campaign. It felt weird to be part of an international competition without leaving the country.

"You reckon you’ll get some decent game time?" Rakim asked, pointing his fork at him, believing that his team’s centre-back was the best in the squad apart from Rüdiger. "Surely there wasn’t a defender more tested and successful than you this season."

"I hope so," Tah simply said, his brows knitting together, contemplating the question. "The staff favours Hummel’s style more, though, so it’ll be difficult."

What was left unsaid was the fact that DFB favoured players from the two established German giants. Hummels is perhaps a political genius or just happened to be the only player who has moved between Bayern and Dortmund all his career, like no man’s business. It was the German way to concentrate the best players in those two teams, yet a third had swept all the cups in a season, and even then, only three players were selected for the national campaign.

"Morning, lads," a familiar voice interrupted their conversation. Wirtz appeared, tray loaded with what looked like half the buffet. "Is this the champion’s table?"

"Leverkusen, but I guess that’s the same," Rakim said with a smile as he gestured to the empty seat. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead," Wirtz said, settling in. "That bed is actually incredible. Way better than the hotel in Porto."

"Everything’s better when you’re not nervous about a Champions League final," Tah pointed out.

"Fair point." Wirtz attacked his breakfast with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t eaten in days. "So, what did I miss? You guys plotting a Leverkusen takeover of Die Mannschaft?"

"If only," Rakim said dryly. "We were just discussing how only three of us got called up despite winning the treble."

"Is that surprising? Only the best players get called up, not the winning team," Wirtz said around a mouthful of toast. "I like our team, but I don’t see anyone taking the spot of Kimich or Marco. But I don’t get how Amiri didn’t make it when others did?"

The names of teams like Wolfsburg and Gladbach baffled them, given their own team’s absolute dominance. "But hey, we will see a familiar face, but I guess he will be kicking himself for leaving a year too early." He added with a smile, pulling up a picture of Volland in the official call-up list.

His official career trophies consisted of the DFB Pokal from the previous season, as he moved to Monaco in hopes of springboard his career. The player had transitioned to an attacking midfielder, playing a respectable season, narrowly finishing third in the league and runners-up in the cup. However, compared to Leverkusen, he must be kicking himself for missing out on that.

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TO BE CONTINUED...