First Time

It was his very first time; he didn’t know how he would feel during or after. Would it be has he had anticipated, has he had dreamt it would be, would he score and be held in adulation or would it be a total anti-climax. He jogged on the spot trying to keep the nerves at bay and in an attempt to keep his muscles active and supple. Keeping calm and in control was paramount to ensuring he gave a good performance a performance that he hoped would be world class. He held his mascot in his right hand which by now was warm and clammy, hoping that the mascot would not pick up on his fears.

“Excuse me, your holding my hand too tight” said the mascot in a low voice only just audible above the noise permeating the tunnel from the capacity crowd.

“Sorry miss” Fabian replied in his best English looking down at the small girl dressed in a German national team strip not that she had a drop on Germany blood I her. She had been told by her parents that German’s have a strong grip so be careful when and if they shake your hand. He softened his hold and concentrated on his breathing exercises to guarantee he was ready for his first game as captain of the Germany football team against what he considered to be a weak England team, although they would have the upper hand with the game being played at Wembley.

His broad shoulders and his muscular chest filled his shirt to bursting a physique that any body builder would yearn for, supported on equally muscular legs supporting his six foot six stature.
“Why do you look like Ed Sheeran?” asked his mascot pulling on his hand desperate for an answer looking up at his red hair that looked like it needed a good comb. “My daddy says all German men have blond hair why don’t you?”

“Entschuldigung ich spreche kein Englisch” replied Fabian assuming that she would understand that he had told her that he didn’t speak English, so she would relent in asking any more questions.
He watched her shrug her shoulders and while he redirected his green eyes from looking at her to looking forward down the tunnel to the hallowed turf, he caught a mean angry stare from his counterpart Wayne Rooney. His comment had been heard and he knew that if there was one German phrase Wayne knew, it was the one he had just uttered. His Manchester United team mate also knew that Fabian spoke fluent English a fact that would haunt him for the next ninety minutes. It was going to be a long difficult game.