Brasseries Tournament Semi-finals Part 1
At the Ndonga household, Marcel was getting ready for the semi-final match against Kadji Sports Academy—one of the most prestigious youth academies in Cameroon. The academy had produced some of the country's biggest footballing talents, including Samuel Eto'o, Nicolas Nkoulou, Benjamin Moukandjo, and Aurélien Chedjou. While in recent years they hadn't produced a breakout star, their reputation alone made it clear that the match wouldn't be easy.
Marcel adjusted his boots and took one last look at himself in the mirror. His heart pounded with excitement, but his face remained calm. He knew what was at stake.
"Mom, I'm ready to go. Christina already texted me—she's waiting outside," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Francine, standing by the doorway, smiled. "Good. This time, I'm bringing my camera to film your match. I'll send it to your father so he can see you win."
Marcel chuckled. "Alright, Mom. I'll do my best."
As they stepped outside, Christina was already waiting near the car. She perked up when she saw Marcel, a warm smile spreading across her face. He walked up to her, wrapping an arm around her in a brief embrace before they both got into the car.
With the engine roaring to life, the car rolled onto the road, heading straight for the pitch where the semi-final awaited.
...
...
In the locker room, Marcel tightened his socks and adjusted his boots, making sure everything was perfect before stepping onto the pitch. Around him, the team was engaged in quiet preparations, some stretching, others adjusting their gear. The air was thick with anticipation as they waited for Coach Emile to give his final words before kickoff.
Marcel turned to Jean, their captain and defensive leader. Without a word, he bumped fists with him, a mutual understanding passing between them.
"Let's win this match and make it to the final," Marcel said, his voice steady with determination.
Jean smirked. "Yeah, and we're counting on you in attack. Just try not to waste too many chances," he replied, his tone half-joking but with a serious undertone.
Before Marcel could respond, the locker room door swung open, and Coach Emile strode in. His eyes swept across the room, scanning each player as he moved toward the center.
"We've made it to the semi-finals," he began, pacing slowly, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. "We had a setback, but we stood up, fought back, and now we're here."
He stopped, hands on his hips, letting the silence sink in before continuing. "I could tell you that no matter what happens today, you've already done well—that you qualified from a group with Brasseries Academy and Canon Yaoundé. But that would be defeatist thinking."
His gaze hardened. "I know none of you are here to lose."
The players sat up straighter, their eyes locked onto the coach as he continued.
"Since we've come this far, we're going all the way. No excuses. No second-guessing. You've worked for this moment. Prove it. Show what you're capable of. Show why you belong here—against one of the best academies in Cameroon."
Coach Emile's expression sharpened as he took a slow breath before delivering the final incentive.
"And let me remind you—the Cameroon U17 coach is watching this match."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"If you want to wear the national team jersey—if you want to represent this country, then leave no doubts today. Play like your future depends on it—because it does."
He took one last look at them before raising his voice.
"Are you ready, boys?!"
"YES, COACH!" the players responded in unison.
"I SAID, ARE YOU READY?!"
"YES, COACH!" They roared, louder this time, their voices filled with adrenaline.
Coach Emile nodded, satisfied. "Then go out there and win this match."
One by one, the players rose, their faces hardened with focus, their bodies brimming with energy. As they walked out of the locker room, the atmosphere shifted—the weight of the occasion pressing on their shoulders.
This was their moment.
They were ready.
...
...
Fweee!!!
The referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the semi-final. Kadji Sports Academy took the kickoff, immediately settling into possession.
They moved the ball patiently in their own half, their midfielders exchanging quick passes as Dragons FC's striker pressed aggressively, trying to force an error. Marcel and the other attacking players quickly joined in, increasing the intensity of the press.
But just as they committed forward, Ngono Ngoah, Kadji Sports' central midfielder, spotted an opening. With a quick glance, he launched a long diagonal ball toward the left wing, exploiting the space left behind by Dragons FC's high press.
The ball soared over the midfield and dropped perfectly into the path of Kadji's left winger, who wasted no time accelerating down the flank. Dragons FC's right back sprinted to close him down, angling his body to block the winger's path.
But in a moment of brilliance, the winger faked inside before pushing the ball to his right, going around the right-back on the outside. With a burst of speed, he raced past, leaving his marker trailing as he caught up with the ball near the byline.
Jean, realizing the danger, reacted instantly. He sprinted across, trying to cut off the winger before he could deliver a cross. But the winger, just a step ahead, saw the movement and sent a low-driven pass laterally to the edge of the box, targeting the space Jean had just vacated.
Racing into the area, Ngono Ngoah arrived at full speed, timing his run to perfection. Without hesitation, he unleashed a powerful shot aimed toward the top right corner.
Dragons FC's right center-back lunged desperately, managing to block the ball with his outstretched leg—but he didn't deflect it properly. Instead of clearing away, the ball took an awkward deflection, changing direction unpredictably.
The goalkeeper, already committed to diving right, was caught off guard as the ball swerved left.
GOAL!!!
The net rippled as the ball nestled into the bottom-left corner. 1-0 to Kadji Sports Academy.
The entire sequence had unfolded in just two minutes.
Dragons FC players stood frozen for a moment, processing what had just happened. It was a nightmare start. Marcel clenched his fists. The match had barely begun, and they were already chasing the game.
Jean slammed his fist into his palm, visibly frustrated. He looked at his teammates and clapped loudly.
"Come on! Stay focused! It's just the beginning!"
Marcel exhaled sharply, shaking off his initial disappointment. There was still plenty of time left. They had to respond.
...
...
Francine and Christina sat in the stands, watching in disbelief as Dragons FC conceded an early goal.
"They don't know how to defend or what?!" Francine stood up, frustration clear in her voice.
"If Marcel doesn't win this match, it's because of that defense," she muttered, shaking her head as she sat back down.
"It's just the beginning, Tata" Christina reassured her. "Marcel will change the match when he gets the ball."
Some spectators glanced in their direction, amused by Francine's loud reaction, but quickly looked away when she glared at them.
"What are you looking at?!" she snapped, making a few of them turn their heads elsewhere.
A low chuckle came from nearby.
Francine turned, noticing a middle-aged man in a Cameroon national team tracksuit, seated a few rows down. He had a shaved head, a neatly trimmed beard with hints of gray, and a relaxed posture. His expression wasn't mocking—more amused, like someone used to seeing passionate supporters.
"Which one is your son?" he asked, his tone casual.
Francine, still slightly annoyed, glanced at him before replying. "Number 17. Ndonga. The left winger."
The man nodded. "Ah. The boy on the left. He's good—I've been following him since his first match against Brasseries Academy."
Francine frowned slightly. She wasn't sure why, but something about the way he said it felt different.
"And you are…?" she asked, more curious now.
"Just a football fan." He gave a small smile, adjusting the sleeves of his tracksuit. "I like watching young talents. Every now and then, you come across someone special."
Francine's eyes drifted briefly to the Cameroon national team emblem on his tracksuit. It wasn't uncommon to see people wearing team gear, but something about this conversation made her look at it twice.
"You follow young talents?" she pressed, still not fully convinced.
"I try." He shrugged. "I've seen a lot of players come and go. Some have great skill, but it takes more than that to go far. Football isn't just about talent—it's about the right mentality and the right opportunities."
His words made sense, but before Francine could respond, the crowd stirred—Marcel had finally gotten the ball.
She immediately turned her attention back to the pitch, completely forgetting the conversation for now.
...
...
After dropping deep into midfield to receive the ball, Marcel turned sharply, accelerating past an onrushing midfielder. His pace took him into space, but instead of driving forward recklessly, he lifted his head to scan the field. On the far side, Dragons FC's right winger had begun a sprint into the box.
Marcel struck a diagonal pass, but he overhit it. The ball zipped through the air, bouncing hard off the right winger's chest. His control was clumsy, and before he could adjust, Kadji Sports' center-back, Ouambo Toukam, charged in and hacked the ball clear.
Or at least, he tried.
The clearance lacked power, and the ball looped weakly to the edge of the box.
Marcel had been waiting for this.
Like a predator sensing weakness, he reacted in an instant, stepping forward and striking the ball on the volley.
SMACK!
The ball flew toward goal, but Marcel knew the moment he hit it—it wasn't perfect. The shot, intended for the top-right corner, veered slightly too central.
The Kadji Sports goalkeeper reacted swiftly, diving to his right. He stretched out his arm and managed to parry it wide.
Coach Emile dropped to his knees, hands gripping his head. On the field, Marcel exhaled sharply, clenching his fists. His teammates around him groaned in frustration.
Fweee! The referee signaled for a corner.
Dragons FC's midfielder curled in a precise cross to the far post. Jean, leaping higher than anyone, met the ball with a powerful header toward the bottom left.
The goalkeeper was beaten.
But at the last second, Toukam threw his body in the way, blocking the shot with his chest. A Kadji Sports defender reacted first and booted the ball clear.
---
The pattern of the game became clear.
Kadji Sports dominated possession, circulating the ball with confidence, but they lacked penetration. Their passing sequences rarely turned into clear-cut chances.
Dragons FC, on the other hand, thrived on counterattacks.
In the 20th minute, after a clever one-two between the right-back and right-winger, Dragons FC's striker met a curling cross with a firm header toward the top corner. The ball seemed destined for goal.
But the goalkeeper, in inspired form, leapt across the goalmouth and plucked it out of the air.
In the 32nd minute, Marcel dazzled the crowd with a nutmeg to slip past Kadji Sports' right-back. He linked up with his striker, who played a return pass to a midfielder at the edge of the box. With a feint, the midfielder rolled the ball into Marcel's path.
Marcel aimed to curl the ball into the far post, but he didn't get enough bend. The shot drifted straight to the goalkeeper.
Coach Emile groaned. "This keeper… is he playing like this just to frustrate us?!"
The goalkeeper smirked as he clutched the ball, clearly growing in confidence.
---
Then came the 43rd minute.
A blocked shot rebounded to a Dragons FC midfielder, who quickly spotted Marcel asking for the ball. A crisp, low pass sent it rolling toward him on the left flank.
Marcel controlled it smoothly, but a defender rushed toward him.
With a subtle feint, Marcel shifted his weight left, baiting the defender into a step. The moment his opponent lunged, Marcel cut sharply inside.
Toukam stepped up, but Marcel remained calm, adjusting his stride with small touches. He noticed the goalkeeper edging right, anticipating a curling effort.
Instead, Marcel struck low and hard.
The ball zipped through Toukam's legs, catching the keeper off guard. He barely had time to react as the shot buried itself into the bottom-left corner.
GOAL!
1-1!
Marcel sprinted toward the stands, forming a heart with his hands.
Francine and Christina waved back excitedly.
His teammates mobbed him, Jean shouting, "What a goal!"
Coach Emile clapped. "Good job, boys! Keep the sco
re steady until halftime—we finish this in the second half."
The match slowed, with neither team taking risks.
Halftime arrived.
1-1.
The game was back where it started—but Marcel had dragged Dragons FC into the fight.