Chapter 593: Chapter 593 Something To Think About
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[Press Room]
Bosz took a seat behind the podium facing the row of cameras that were prearranged. The room was quiet, save for the occasional clicking of equipment and the faint buzz of fluorescent lighting above. With most of the media still barred from attending in person due to league restrictions, only the official broadcast crew and a few permitted journalists remained—each spaced apart, masked, and weary-eyed.
A moderator from the Bundesliga media team nodded his way.
"Coach, we’re live in 3... 2... 1..." The red light blinked on. The first question came from a screen to his left—a remote Zoom feed patched into the interview suite. The voice belonged to a German reporter from *Kicker*.
**"Peter, commiserations. A valiant performance, but ultimately a bitter loss. What are your thoughts on how the match unfolded, especially in the second half?"**
Bosz leaned forward slightly, his eyes shadowed by the downlighting, but his tone was clear. "It’s difficult to speak right now. The emotions are still raw—not just for me, but for the players. I think anyone watching saw a game that was very even until the final stages. We responded well after going behind, took the lead, and at that moment, I genuinely believed we had turned it. But credit to Bayern—they’re not top of the table by accident. They punished us in the final 15 minutes. That’s what the best teams do."
Another voice chimed in—this time in English, from *The Athletic*. **"Peter, Rakim Rex played a key role in the comeback. Can you talk about his impact tonight, and what his mentality was like after the final whistle?"**
Bosz paused, then gave a faint smile—one more tired than amused. > "Rakim is a young man with an old soul, that’s how I would best describe him. You see his flair on the ball, the way he opens spaces and forces defenders into mistakes—but what people don’t always see is how much pressure is on him to deliver. He was devastated after the match, absolutely gutted. But he also understands this is part of growing as a footballer. I’m proud of him. We all are."
A third question followed, from the local press again. **"There were some who criticised your substitutions late on—specifically bringing off Alario for more control. Do you regret that decision now?"**
Bosz didn’t flinch at the pointed. > "No. Not at all. You make choices based on what the game needs at that moment. Lucas gave everything and was showing signs of fatigue. We felt Demirbay could help slow the tempo and retain possession. It didn’t work in the end, but hindsight makes every coach look like a gambler. That’s the job."
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[Date: 06/06/2020 | Time: 17:00 PM | Location: Rakim’s Villa – Hahnwald, Cologne]
Arriving home under he soft hum of his i8, Rakim wasted no time heading inside, barely remembering to fish out his duffel bag from he trunk. May greeted him in the kitchen with a deep hug, but he still felt numb, his mind replaying the free kick. He was on autopilot, barely remembering how he ended up in the cold tub that may have been prepared for him.
’Hey Eva, are you there?’ he subconciosly asked after the hundredth time thinking of what he could have done differently. "Oh yeah, I forgot you’re no longer here," he muttered out loud this time, making his frustration audible.
"This would have been the perfect time for a co-pilot to help me analyse my game and improve, you know," he commented, splashing some of the ice water onto his face, sending a jolt through his nervous system. "Alright, Rakim, stop whining, so you missed a free kick in an important match, it happens to the best of them."
*Not me, I never miss when it matters. Playing for Brazil, perfection is the standard for a forward, anything less and you might as well be cavarni*
*To me, missing is a foreign language. How do you think I’ve scored up to nearly 740 goals this season?*
*When your team needs you, there is no option to miss; you score. Pressure? I guess that having a whole nation put their hopes on you to lead them to a World Cup title and become the next El Pibe de Oro since the age of ten can be considered pressure?*
*Missing is for regular players when a Lion hunts, he goes for the kill, the results are all that matter, the rest is ’how you say it?’ "Smantics", exactly nobody cares unless you produce results.*
"Alright, you guys are not helpful whatsoever," Rakim muttered to himself, flicking away the imaginary bobble head figures of the greatest players of his era. In a puff of smoke, they disappeared, leaving him to his thoughts as he leaned back in the metal tub.
Looking up through the glass roof of the conservatory fitness room with the soft scent of candles wafting into his nostrils, he let his mind wander. The night sky was emerging on the horizon, devouring the last of the afternoon sky that already looked like summer. He saw a plane pass high in the sky, drawing with it a trail of smoke as he listened to the soft sound of Kenny G playing from the speakers.
He had got into the habit of listening to softer music at the end of the day. Not quite full-on classical, but more in the style of Kenny G, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, and Miles Davis. It helped calm his mind after a long day of hard work, and he for sure needed it after today’s bitter defeat.
A few minutes passed like that—just him, the candles, the cold water, and the smooth saxophone tones swirling through the room. The burning sting in his legs had dulled into a background hum as fatigue left his body. "I guess it’s back to the drawing board," he muttered, taking a deep breath before submerging his head under the cold water.
He held his breath for a good minute, only coming up for air after hearing the knocking on the metal tub. Taking a deep breath, his eyes met the green iris of May, who was crouched next to the tub. She was dressed in a velvet grey coloured 2-piece Spaghetti Strap PJs set, her shoulders slightly reddened from the cold air in the room.
Seemingly not caring about the drop in temperature in the room, she softly spoke, as her dainty hand reached out to push a wet strand of his locs from his face. "You okay? I’ve heated up some soup." Smiling sweetly at his stunned expression, she patiently waited for an answer.
"E’eh yeah, thank you, I’ll be out in a sec. Go back before you catch a cold, we have been sick enough for the rest of 2020 and maybe even the next year." He said, moving his wet hand to nudge her shoulder, urging her to go back through the door that led to the warmth of their home.
She didn’t budge, though, only lightly swaying for balance in her crouched position. "You played well, you know. I know how much you wanted this, but I know you will come back stronger next year." Before he could reply, she leaned forward, causing a stray strand from her messy bun to dip into the water.
Rakim wasn’t paying attention to that, though, as his eyes remained on her elegant neckline as her rosy lips pecked his forehead. "But you know you didn’t smile once during the game, not even when you guys were leading." Her words caused his thoughts to pause in consideration, but before he could respond, she had gotten up. "Just something to think about, now hurry up before you catch hyperthermia."
’Maybe I have been putting too much pressure on myself to be perfect ever since Eva and the system functions left,’ he found himself thinking as her figure disappeared behind the shutting door.
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To be continued...