"Pick up the pace, boys!" screamed Tati, the manager of A.S.C. Waterfront Hoboken. He was a middle-aged man with slick hair. He came from Colombia and always wore polo shirts and cargo pants to training. "I don't want to hear you beg. It's time to go up."
Ian jogged gracefully on the grass, his curly hair pushed back by the speed they were jogging at. The sun reflecting off his light-skinned tone as he continued his pace.
"Shit, I feel like I'm about to burst," said James, who swayed up and down as they did full-speed reverse Indian runs. "I can feel my lungs shriveling."
"Enough yapping," said Gregor Mankowski. He was a veteran in his mid-thirties and the captain of the team. He had a shaved beard and a bald head. He looked like an angry Irishman from one of those stereotypical shows. But he wasn't Irish at all. In fact, he played professionally in Poland before coming to this team years ago, when they were in the third division.
"Alright, time!" screamed Tati. "Good practice today, boys."
"Fuck, my water's gone!" gasped James. "Let me have some of yours, Ian."
"Yeah, sure, man," Ian replied, handing him the half-empty water bottle.
A few feet away, some of the players were speaking about the start of the second division tonight. Express Club played against Hoboken City, and some players wanted to go. Hoboken's nightlife would be packed with people from around the state and even nearby New York City to watch the game.
"You guys comin?" asked Luca Bonnatelli. He was a center back for the team and a giant. He stood at 6'5" and had brute strength. Some of the players didn't even realize he'd stay on the team, given how decent he is at his position. He was in his late 20s and bragged about how quickly he'd win a race, even for his size and height. He's white and has brown hair. He had a small moustache and hairy arms.
"I'd have to ask my ma," Ian said. "Just give me a minute to call her."
"Why not do it on the way?" replied Immanuel Ngongo. Ngongo was a striker for the team. He was fast and one of the youngest on the team. He came from a program held in Gabon. Ian liked the way he played because it reminded him of legends like Messi and Vinicius Jr. He stood at 5'8" and was very quick on the ball. His weakness, however, was composure on the ball.
"Because what if I cannot come?" Ian replied.
"Wait?" stopped James. "The game's at the Express Club's stadium, right?"
"Mhm," answered Luca.
"Oh shit, that's next to our old stadium," James laughed. "I've only seen it two times."
"It's also close to Hoboken Terminal, so if she says no, then you can just take a rideshare to the train," said Immanuel.
"Well, that's if I have money," Ian said, pulling out his phone.
"Hit the showers, boys!" screamed Tati. "You all smell like shit."
"Heave-ho," said James as he grabbed Ian's arm and pulled him up from the ground.
"My legs are fucked," said Immanuel.
"You need an ice bath or something." Ian laughed. They walked toward the clubhouse, where there were showers for those who didn't live close by. At the clubhouse they'd get checked up, take an ice bath if they wanted to, and get everything they needed before heading off into the evening.
After everyone parted ways, the boys who were heading to the Hoboken Derby got into some of their teammates' cars and headed to the stadium. Ian sat in the back of the black suburban that took some players to the game. He quickly called his mother, who was unsure but insisted he stand next to his teammates at all times.
"Pfhhh," James sounded. "So many hot women!"
"What?" said Klaus Van Der Boek. Klaus was a 26-year-old who participated in the trial with Ian and a couple of other players. In addition to being tall, he was a midfielder on the team. He was slim at the top, but his quads were huge. He could run for hours and had remarkable stamina and awareness. His only weakness was his passing. He had blond hair, brown eyes, and pale skin.
"Look there, and there!" James drooled.
"Oh damn!" Klaus gawked.
"Watch it!" screamed supporters crossing the street.
"Aye, bro!" screamed someone in the car next to Ian and his teammates.
"Yea?" replied Lorenzo Beek. Lorenzo Beek was the third choice, soon to be the second choice, goalkeeper on the team. He came from the small academy the team had and worked his way up. He was a giant at 6'6" and had sharp reactions to quick decisions in the game. He was also light on his feet. He had black curly hair and was light-skinned with brown eyes.
"Be careful; it may be too late to get to the stadium parking lot," the man said.
"What happened?" Lorenzo asked.
"Ultras are destroying shit again," he said.
The light turned green as they drove up toward a large crowd of supporters wearing purple and black. Flares were being fired off as purple smoke covered the car before they turned off the main street.
"Shit," Ian said. "That was cool!"
"Hahaha!" laughed Immanuel. "Soon that will be us!"
"I hope so," Ian said. "This team seems to be going through a major rebuild after getting relegated."
"Mhm," said Lorenzo, who sipped some water.
"Pull into this parking lot," Klaus said.
"Maybe we should've taken the lightrail?" James inquired.
After parking and paying, the boys wandered around downtown Hoboken before the game began. The streets near Express Club's stadium were already filled with loud bangs, singing, flares, and police sirens. There were many enjoyable derbies in this country. The Major League is no exception, as the Championship and even League one and two have some pretty intense derbies.
"You have the tickets, right?" asked Lorenzo.
"Yes, I have the tickets, for the thirteenth time you've asked me," sighed Klaus.
They continued on their walk, passing pubs, restaurants, and more. The sky waned in brightness and became orange as the sun set. From afar, a roar of chants from Hoboken City's ultras rang through the main street.
Kids ran past their parents, trying to get in with the crowd as the two clubs headed toward the stadium to face off. A mix of English, Italian, and Spanish chants were sung as flags waved throughout the smoke-covered sky.
"What time is the game?" Ian asked.
"Err, about fortyish minutes," replied Klaus.
"I'm kinda thirsty," said James. "Can we stop here and get something to drink?"
"Sure, I don't see a problem with that," Klaus said.
"Oi, be, on, time," Lorenzo ordered.
"Oi, be, on, time," James mimicked.
"I'll break your leg," Lorenzo shouted.
James laughed while looking at him, then stepped inside the store along with Ian and Immanuel.
"Hmm, I want a soda," James muttered.
"Get some water," Immanuel told him.
"Or get an energy drink?" Ian suggested.
"Something like that," Immanuel pointed out.
"Ugh, Express Club merchandise," James said with a revolting look on his face.
"What was that?" a young boy asked. "You dissin ECH?"
"Huh?" James replied. "Where is your parents' little one?"
"Fuck you!" the boy shouted.
"What the?" Ian laughed.
The young boy ran at James, causing a commotion that alerted the cashier, who demanded they all leave. They paid and left as the kid was ushered away by his mother on his way to the game.
"Yeah, this part of the city is fucked," James said.
"What happened in there?" asked Klaus.
"A fucking shrimp, that's what happened!" argued James.
Immanuel and Ian laughed hysterically.
"Waterfront boys?" asked a man who walked up to them.
"Who's askin?" Lorenzo said as he turned and towered over the four men standing in a wedge on the sidewalk.
"They look like a boy band," said Immanuel.
"Great, so it is you guys," said a man with black reading glasses on. He had blond hair and a slim figure. He stood about six feet tall and had freckles on his face. He and the three other boys wore a nice-looking logo on their hoodies that said, "S.S.C. Troy."