Karma - The Funny Bitch

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"Oh, nice play from Jordan out wide. He's sent a pass in for Hayes, Hayes takes the shotttt... Oh my word! He's given his team the lead. Just half an hour ago, it looked like they were going to be out, and now they're ecstatic. They've gotten the lead... Super Jeremiah Hayes to the rescue!"

"What a goal from Jeremiah Hayes!" the second commentator exclaimed with palpable excitement. "It's a very good goal from the young man, but we have to talk about the run that Jordan Phillips made on that right-hand side. Absolutely phenomenal!"

"And might I add," the second commentator continued with enthusiasm, "that it was Jeremiah Hayes who gave the pass to Phillips with a lovely little flick, first-time. He started the attack, he finished the attack, and if Jeremiah Hayes Football Institution can hold their lead, then he's out there leading his team into the semifinals of this tournament."

The second commentator went on and on, lavishing praise on Jerry as if he were being paid to promote the player. His voice brimmed with admiration, recounting the move's brilliance.

Jerry, meanwhile, was oblivious to the commentators' praise. He was too busy celebrating his heroic goal. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, he sprinted toward the touchline, leapt into the air, and spun mid-flight. As he landed with his legs spread apart, a loud and triumphant "SUI!" burst from his lips, echoing through the stadium. It was a celebration inspired by the most clutch player of all time, a fitting tribute to the magnitude of his goal.

As the celebration died down, Jerry rejoined his teammates, who were equally exhilarated. They exchanged high-fives, pats on the back, and a few playful shoves before returning to their positions. The referee blew his whistle, signaling the resumption of play.

"Get in!" Jeremiah shouted, pumping his fists in the air as he watched Jerry's goal. "Look at that! That's a proper striker's finish!" His voice carried a tone of pride, as if Jerry's success somehow validated his own instincts.

"I still stand by what I said, though," James remarked with a small smile.

"What are you talking about?" Jeremiah replied, his tone incredulous. "Didn't you see what he just did? He's got the elite IQ of a striker! He started the attack, moved forward, got himself into a favorable position, and scored the goal with some next-level finishing." His voice rose with each sentence, his conviction growing.

James chuckled lightly before responding. "Out of everything you just said, I only agree with the fact that he's an intelligent player. Far more intelligent than most of the players he's competing with right now. That's why it seems like he's so good as a striker. From what I've seen, he just attacks pockets of space and exploits them. None of that positioning nonsense you just mentioned. Do you know how many times he wasn't on the right side because he was camping out in some nice, chill pocket of space? At this level, sure, he'll get quite a few goals by doing that. But what happens when he gets to higher levels, where that play style isn't sustainable?"

Jeremiah stared blankly at James for a moment, his expression a mix of contemplation and defiance. He opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. A few seconds passed before he finally broke the silence with a sly grin.

"Did you see his finish? Prime me things," he said with a chuckle, deflecting James's critique. Then, with a renewed focus, he turned his attention back to the match. This time, his observations of Jerry were sharper, more analytical.

James shook his head with a smirk. "Oh, right," he said, tapping his temple as if he'd just remembered something important. "The gaffer has asked us to meet with the targets after the quarterfinals match. So, we're going to have to approach the names we've written down, talk to them, let them know we'll be monitoring them in the semis. For those who are already knocked out, we'll invite them to trial with us."

"Alright then," Jeremiah replied, nodding in agreement. He leaned over to glance at the list of names scrawled in James's notepad. "But let's split up. We've got quite a lot of people to meet."

The match on the pitch had taken a predictable turn. After Jeremiah Hayes Football Institution scored their second goal to take the lead, the team's strategy shifted dramatically. With only ten minutes remaining, the players prioritized defending their narrow advantage over pursuing another goal. Their opponents, the Jermaine Walter Academy, were growing increasingly desperate, frantically trying to claw their way back into the game.

To neutral spectators, the unfolding drama carried an element of poetic justice. In the first half, it had been Jermaine Walter Academy who had parked the bus after taking the lead. Now, the tables had turned. Jeremiah Hayes Football Institution had adopted the same defensive approach, albeit with far less time left on the clock. Karma's such a funny bitch.

For the final ten minutes, the match became a chaotic battle of wills. Jermaine Walter Academy threw everything they had into their attacks, pushing bodies forward in a desperate bid to find an equalizer. However, their efforts were met with a wall of resilience from Jeremiah Hayes Football Institution. Every cross was cleared, every shot blocked, and every loose ball fiercely contested.

On the sidelines, Jeremiah and James watched intently, their conversation from earlier momentarily forgotten as they immersed themselves in the action. Jeremiah couldn't help but grin as Jerry sprinted back to help his teammates defend, his determination evident in every movement.

"He's got heart, I'll give him that," James admitted, nodding his head in approval. It was going to be fun watching Jerry's journey.

The clock ticked down mercilessly, the seconds feeling like hours for the players on both sides. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation. Fans from both teams were on the edge of their seats, their cheers and chants growing louder with each passing moment.

When the final whistle blew, a collective roar erupted from the stands. The match had ended with a victory for Jeremiah Hayes Football Institution, the scoreline reading 2-1 in their favor. The players on the winning side celebrated wildly, their joy uncontainable. On the other side, the Jermaine Walter Academy players dropped to the ground, their faces etched with disappointment.

Jerry, once again, found himself at the center of the celebration. His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders, chanting his name as they paraded him around the field. He raised his arms triumphantly, basking in the adulation.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah and James began preparing for their post-match responsibilities. They reviewed their list of targets, and divided it between themselves before setting out to meet each of them.

A/N: sorry for not updating yesterday, I was quite busy