The final whistle blew, and the score remained 2-1. Despite the Munich University players' frustrations and grievances, they couldn't alter the outcome—their title defense had ended, and the victory belonged to the visiting team from Westphalian University of Applied Sciences.
As soon as the match concluded, the entire Westphalian squad surged onto the pitch, surrounding their heroes, Samuel and Franck, in a tight embrace. The players were jubilant, and even the usually reserved Coach Norbert Elgert couldn't resist rushing onto the field, his arms wide open, to join in the celebration. It was a moment of pure joy and vindication for a team that had just achieved something extraordinary.
To outsiders, the exuberance might have seemed over the top for a quarterfinal victory, but for Westphalian, this was no ordinary win. The significance of this triumph stretched far beyond just the scoreline.
Before this match, the team had camaraderie but lacked the confidence and dominance necessary to reach the top. Their victory over the Technical University of Dortmund had given them a modest boost in morale, but this victory against Munich University, the reigning champions, was a game-changer. It was a powerful catalyst that transformed belief into certainty. Facts, after all, are the strongest form of persuasion, and this battle-tested victory would ensure that the players no longer doubted themselves, regardless of their future opponents.
They had taken down the defending champions, the back-to-back national league winners—what challenge could possibly stand in their way now? The answer was clear: their only real opponent was themselves.
The home team's players and fans began to leave the stadium early, engulfed in a palpable sense of loss. Meanwhile, Franck and his teammates continued to revel in their unforgettable achievement. But for the reporters covering the game, the celebration marked the start of their work. No longer content to stay in the stands, they sprang into action, hurrying onto the pitch to capture the stories behind the victory.
Unlike professional football venues, the university stadium lacked designated media areas and mixed zones, so the reporters had to be quick on their feet, sprinting across the field to conduct interviews. These journalists were seasoned pros, adept at their craft. Just as Franck finished celebrating, several microphones were thrust in his direction, with most of them aimed squarely at him. After all, he had not only excelled in defense but had also scored the decisive goal. Luck may have played a part, but that didn't stop him from being the center of attention.
Samuel, whose blistering pace had wreaked havoc on the Munich defense, received the second most attention. His speed and skill had left a lasting impression on the reporters.
Alain, however, felt somewhat overlooked, despite his outstanding performance. His crucial saves had been instrumental in keeping Westphalian in the game, yet as a goalkeeper, his contributions weren't as immediately eye-catching as Franck's match-winning goal. It was a harsh reminder of the reality that, in football, the spotlight often shines brightest on those who score.
But Alain didn't dwell on it for long. He was genuinely happy for Franck and Samuel, who were not just his teammates but also his close friends. They deserved every bit of recognition they were getting.
As the microphones and cameras suddenly surrounded him, Franck had a moment of blankness. He hadn't anticipated being singled out for interviews. When the dream of fame becomes reality, it can feel surreal—almost as if the happiness had arrived too suddenly.
A bald, middle-aged male reporter hurriedly fired off a series of questions. Franck, still recovering from the initial surprise, didn't catch a word of it. He kept glancing over at Samuel, who was also caught up in the whirlwind of media attention.
Samuel, too, was visibly nervous. His face was flushed, and his gestures were more animated than usual—he was clearly out of his comfort zone, just as much as Franck.
But soon, the flashes of the cameras brought Franck back to reality. Realizing the reporter was waiting for his response, Franck scratched his head and, with a sheepish grin, said, "Sorry... Could you repeat the question?"
The middle-aged reporter smiled warmly, his years of experience evident in his understanding demeanor. He could tell that Franck was nervous, likely facing the camera for the first time, and didn't mind repeating his question.
"Hello, could you introduce yourself? Your performance in this game was very high-level. Have you played in a professional youth training center or professional team before?"
The enthusiasm in the reporter's voice was clear, but Franck was momentarily taken aback.
The reporter had spoken in French!
Amidst the rush of the interview, Franck recognized his native language, the official language of Cameroon, and a wide smile spread across his face. It was a small but significant comfort in the middle of the media frenzy.
Noticing Franck's reaction, the reporter smiled, realizing that the player in front of him was surprised to hear French. The reporter felt a sense of pride, knowing that all his studies in multiple languages and his experiences in countries like France and Belgium were paying off in moments like this.
He quickly continued in French, repeating the same question, and added a polite "Merci" at the end. Before Franck could respond, the reporter asked one more question, seeking confirmation: "Are you Ivorian or Nigerian?"
This time, Franck wasn't just confused—he was frustrated. He had to fight the urge to grab the reporter by the collar and shout, "Why do you think I'm Ivorian or Nigerian?"
Was Cameroon so unimpressive lately that people automatically assumed every African footballer was Ivorian or Nigerian? Yes, it was true that since Samuel Eto'o, Cameroon hadn't produced a superstar of the same magnitude, but was it really to the point where someone would see a black footballer and immediately think of Ivory Coast or Nigeria? Cameroon had won the Africa Cup of Nations four times, and "Les Lions Indomptables" were supposed to be among the best in Africa. Was this reporter simply ignorant?
Did Ivory Coast or Nigeria have four Africa Cup of Nations titles? Did they have a player who won the Champions League? Did they have a player who was crowned African Player of the Year three consecutive times?
Franck wasn't blindly patriotic, but growing up with Cameroonian education had instilled in him a natural sense of rivalry with other African countries, especially Ivory Coast. Apart from Senegal, which also boasted impressive football history but not a player like Samuel Eto'o, Cameroon was the only African nation to reach the quarterfinals of the World Cup.
Football, for Franck, was more than just a sport; it was a measure of national pride. The World Cup and the Africa Cup of Nations were benchmarks for African nations, and the reporter's failure to recognize Cameroon left Franck feeling a bit dissatisfied.
Unaware of Franck's internal turmoil, the reporter smiled expectantly, waiting for his response.
For a brief moment, Franck considered walking away, but then he thought better of it. Wouldn't that just make him fade into the background? Looking at the array of cameras, he realized this was the attention he had always hoped for.
Taking a deep breath, Franck composed himself and smiled back at the reporter. He decided to use this moment to proudly assert his identity.
Franck quickly devised a plan to turn the situation to his advantage. Responding in fluent German, he said, "It's okay, I also speak German, so we can continue in German if you prefer. And just to answer your question, I'm from neither of those nations—I'm Cameroonian."
The middle-aged reporter's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, he understood German, and Franck could see from his reaction that he hadn't expected the player in front of him to not only speak German fluently but also to be Cameroonian.
The reporters around them were equally astonished. They exchanged glances, whispering among themselves in surprise.
"Did he just speak German? Am I hearing that right?"
"Oh, this is unexpected. In addition to speaking German, he's also Cameroonian."
A reporter with wide-brimmed glasses remarked with mild surprise, "It's one thing to see someone in good form, but let's not forget that the players coming from Cameroon recently haven't been that impressive. He's likely to be a flash in the pan. Apart from the recently notable Alexandre Song, Cameroon isn't known for producing promising young players, especially in defense."
His colleague didn't argue, and many others nodded in agreement, sharing the sentiment.
Meanwhile, the middle-aged reporter smoothly switched to German and asked the question again. Franck cleared his throat and answered seriously, "No, none of my teammates, including myself, have ever been through professional training. We're all just passionate football lovers. Entering the professional ranks has always been my dream, but I've never experienced professional youth training."
Franck delivered these lines in fluent German, and everyone on the scene understood immediately. The surprise on their faces deepened. Not only was Franck's level of play beyond that of an amateur, but his ambition to become a professional player also caught them off guard.
The reporters were a realistic bunch. Many of them saw Franck's ambition as naive. He was older than the ideal age for starting professional football training, and in a country like Germany, where the competition was fierce, his dream of going pro seemed far-fetched.
The middle-aged reporter frowned slightly and pressed further, "I'm sorry, but your answer is hard for me to believe. I've always trusted my judgment, and your performance doesn't match that of an ordinary amateur."
Franck shrugged helplessly. "That's the truth. You don't have to believe me, but it is what it is. However, since you speak French, you should know the saying: 'Nul n'est prophète en son pays.' There are many players in Cameroon better than me. If your judgment is based on the recent performance of the Cameroon national team, I can only say it's biased."
At this point, Samuel had finished his post-match interview. Franck quickly pulled him and Alain over to the reporters, solemnly introducing them: "These are my two teammates, both of whom are Cameroonian. Samuel Ndi Ebogo, the top scorer on our team, who has a chance to win the national top scorer this year. And this is Alain Didier Nkoum, our main goalkeeper. I'm sure everyone saw his performance today. They are both incredibly strong, not just me."
Franck put his arms around Samuel and Alain's shoulders, and the cameras quickly captured the moment of this "three-person walk."
The reporters might not have remembered all their names, but Franck's gesture of including his teammates wasn't lost on Samuel and Alain. They both looked tense, but there was a shared sense of gratitude towards Franck for not hogging the spotlight and instead bringing them along to share in the recognition.
This is what being best friends means—celebrating victories together, enduring losses together, and never leaving anyone out of the limelight.
Surrounded by reporters, Franck found himself in the middle of a lively scene. Coach Elgert watched from a distance with satisfaction. He didn't want to interrupt Franck's moment in the spotlight, but time was pressing, and it was time to leave.
Franck was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. Sensing this, Coach Elgert called him over, providing the perfect excuse to escape. As Franck was about to leave, the middle-aged reporter raised his voice and quickly asked, "Please wait! Could you tell us your name?"
"My name is Franck Emmanuel Ndongo," he replied.
Some reporters didn't take note of Franck's name, dismissing him as just another college player with no real fame. However, a few of them repeated his name to themselves, committing it to memory.
As Franck prepared to leave, he looked back at the crowd and added with quiet confidence, "Whether you remember me now or not doesn't matter. In the future, you will. I'll make sure of it."
The reporters shook their heads in disbelief. None of them took Franck's words seriously.
"In the future? We'll remember you?"
The reporter with the wide-brimmed glasses, who had been skeptical from the start, muttered under his breath, "The kid's arrogant, and his perspective is too narrow. Does he really think he can achieve the success of his predecessor, Samuel Eto'o?"
But as Franck walked away, there was a part of him that knew he would prove them wrong. His words weren't just bravado; they were a promise to himself that this was just the beginning.
...
On the bus ride back from Munich, the atmosphere was electric. The entire team was talking and laughing, their spirits buoyed by the unexpected victory. Franck and Samuel, still buzzing from their on-camera experience, were reflecting on what it felt like to be in front of the media for the first time. Samuel was particularly animated, recounting how he had managed to push through his nerves to present a strong psychological front during the interview.
Alain, who had been quietly listening to his friends, finally couldn't take it anymore. With a mischievous grin, he handed his phone to Samuel and said, "Hey, Sam, I recorded your performance for you. It's all right here. Take a look... And don't thank me too much, okay?"
Curious, Samuel opened the video, only to see himself on the screen, his face flushed and his gestures exaggerated and awkward. As the realization sank in, his expression darkened, and he shouted, "You got me good, Alain! I'm out here trying my best, and you're having a laugh at my expense!"
"Hahaha!" Franck and Alain burst into laughter, nearly doubling over in their seats. Alain, typically the quietest of the trio, had proven once again that when it came to pranks, he was the undisputed master.
After the laughter subsided, Franck, not wanting to embarrass Samuel any further, offered some advice. "Sam, here's a tip. Next time you're in a situation like that, just take a cue from me. Relax and let the words flow naturally. Bragging is your strong suit, right? And reporters love a good story."
Samuel nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as he considered Franck's advice. "Yeah, Franck, you were smooth out there. I can only admire how you handled it."
Franck, now feeling even more confident, sat up straighter in his seat and declared with a grin, "Exactly! Don't worry about it, Sam. You know me—when have I ever made an unreliable claim?"
Samuel and Alain both shook their heads, holding their foreheads in mock disbelief. Franck's self-assuredness was both impressive and, at times, overwhelming. But that was just who he was—a player full of confidence and determination, qualities that had carried him this far and would undoubtedly continue to do so.
The rest of the bus ride continued in a similar vein, with the team reveling in their victory and looking forward to what lay ahead. For Franck, Samuel, and Alain, the day had been a memorable one, filled with both triumphs on the pitch and the camaraderie that only comes from sharing such experiences with close friends.