Fic - Football - Questions and Answers
So I've ventured out into the world of comms. *is nervous*
Comments and reviews = love. Constructive criticism = appreciated. ^_^
Title: Questions and Answers
Rating: G
Pairing: None. This is completely gen.
Disclaimer: This story is complete fiction. However, I do wish it was at least partially true.
Summary: Bayern’s first team players fill in questionnaires for their yearbook.
Notes: Thanks to
spicyasparagus for the beta. This was used as research material. Thanks,
drbillbongo, and I hope you don't mind. Inspired by wondering if the players really did gang up when filling in their questionnaires. This fic attempts to explain the rationale behind some answers.
A few weeks before the season was due to start, the first-team players assembled to receive their yearbook questionnaires from a staff member. Usually, it was the same boring questions…name, age, family stats, maybe your favourite food or drink. However, there were a few interesting ones this year, Bastian decided as he skimmed through the questions.
There was no training after lunch that day. As a result, most players decided to use the extra time to fill in the questionnaire. Armed with their questionnaires and a pen, they entered the room usually reserved for post-match analysis and strategy discussions.
As usual, the younger Germans, (read: those under 25) sat together in a corner of the room. The others were in their usual groups while the newcomers sat with whichever group they pleased. Kahn sat alone, pondering over what to write. His final Bayern yearbook.
There was silence during the first few minutes as everyone carefully filled out the basic questions.
Bastian was done first, and he read through the remaining questions a few times, trying to think of suitable answers. A nudge caused him to turn to the left. “Yes, Poldi?”
“Don’t you think some of these questions are hilarious? This one, for example. ‘Which song would you perform for a casting show?’ I mean, it’s not like any of us are planning to launch a future career in singing.”
Bastian laughed, elbowing Lukas back. “Not you, definitely. I’ve never heard more off-key singing than yours. Hope you’ve never tried serenading Monika.”
“Of course I haven’t!” gasped Lukas, a tint of red appearing on his cheeks.
After smirking for a few seconds at Lukas’ obvious discomfort, Bastian said, “Actually, I agree with you. Take a look at this one - ‘How do we look like in our new cross-striped jerseys?’ Come on. Since when were we fashion-obsessed models?”
“Since Bayern decided to make the players model some of their merchandise to boost sales,” said Philipp, looking up from his questionnaire.
“Rense'll finally get to model next year once Olli retires,” grinned Andi, glancing over at Rense.
“Shh… Not too loud. He’ll cling on to that jersey until the day they kick him out of the first team because he no longer has a contract,” muttered Rense, shooting a furtive look in his senior’s direction. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help feeling a tingle of excitement. One of the disadvantages of being a substitute goalie was that you were always number two till the number one left or retired. Naturally, during publicity events, the second goalie was almost always ignored. Rense had heard enough about all the fun and stupid things that happened during photo shoots to want to take part in them too. Like the time Schweini looked like a ghost in a catalogue picture because they forgot to put makeup on him…
“Anyway. Getting back to the topic. Poldi’s right. Some of these questions don’t make sense. Are people really going to buy this yearbook to read our answers?” Bastian wrinkled up his nose, wondering at the thought.
“It’s more worthwhile than buying a mug or a pen just because it has the Bayern logo on it,” commented Philipp.
“Your yearbook answers are more worth their money then? Fancy yourself a superstar, do you Phil?” asked Andi, laughing.
“'Course not! What I meant was that a Bayern yearbook as a whole is more worth the money compared to certain things. I still can’t understand why the fan shop carries rubber ducks, toothbrushes and bathroom slippers. Of all the things to sell.”
“Wonder who buys such things,” mused Lukas.
“Crazy fans,” responded Rense in reply.
“Back to the yearbook. Actually, I think most people will read our answers since they tend to be horribly curious about other people’s quirks and personal lives. It’s why surveys are forever mushrooming up on the Internet,” said Lukas.
“Yeah,” agreed Philipp, busy frowning at the questionnaire.
“Hey! Since people are actually going to buy this and read it from cover to cover, how about putting in some nonsense answers?” asked Bastian. At the others’ surprised faces, he said, “It’s not lies. It’s just 'writing down a few abnormal and extraordinary answers.' We shall… think outside the box. Yes, that’s the phrase. Think outside the box. Well, what do you guys think?”
“It’ll be fun.” Lukas sat up straighter, a look of anticipation on his face.
“Plus, it’ll have the added advantage of not having to reveal so much of our private lives. At the same time, we're ensuring it’s still interesting enough for the fans,” said Andi.
“We could write down things that are true but don’t really make sense. You know, the kind that makes people stare and wonder whether you’ve gone insane.” Philipp had perked up, and was currently grinning at Bastian. “Hey... remember what you said that day about our new kits making us look like cigarette packs? Write that down.” Having thrown down the gauntlet, Philipp sat back in his chair, grinning even wider. Laughter swiftly followed.
Bastian locked eyes with Philipp. When it was clear that Phil would not back down, he issued his own challenge. “You like Joss Stone, and Nicola listens to Pink, right? Write that you’d like to meet Pink backstage after a concert. You know you want to, since Nicola definitely wants to.”
“Deal.” Immediately, Philipp wrote down ‘Pink’ under that question.
“Your turn,” he said, glancing around the table. He supposed that Lukas was rapidly coming up with ideas, judging from the way he was staring into space.
“I think we look like… Marlboro… Medium… cigarette packs. There! I’m done. Who’s next?” Schweini triumphantly brandished his questionnaire in the air at the other four, making sure they could see what he had written.
“I dare… Rense! Write about your wish for a clean environment and eradication of poverty in a way that makes you sound like a Miss Universe candidate instead of a normal human being!” Lukas was shaking with laughter as he said this, the others quickly joining in the laughter.
If looks could kill, Lukas would be six feet under by now. So would Bastian, Philipp and Andi. Nevertheless, Rense wrote it down, reading the complete sentence aloud. Lukas nodded his approval.
“In return, you will write that your parents scolded you for countless things when you were a kid, because everyone knows Lukas Podolski was a bad bad boy.” Lukas promptly scribbled it down.
“Andi?” queried Rense, laughing. "I dare you to write that the celebrities you most want to meet backstage after a concert are The Pussycat Dolls and Justin Timberlake."
Andi glared at him. It was all Bastian’s fault, that one. He had arrived for training humming ‘Don't Cha’ by the Pussycat Dolls, and before Andi knew it, he too was humming along with the catchy but annoying tune. Well, a dare was a dare. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he wrote it down.
“And in return, you will write that you would choose to sing ‘Every Time I Close My Eyes’ by the Backstreet Boys at a casting show.”
“What?!?” spluttered Rense. “No way! My reputation!”
“I didn’t know you had a reputation, Rense,” teased Philipp. He had the unique ability to keep a perfectly straight, innocent-looking face when faced with death glares of the greatest magnitude. Rense fumed. Bother Philipp.
“Look, can’t we just keep the answer at Backstreet Boys? That song has to be the most sappy, emotional thing ever sung on the planet," he pleaded, trying to salvage the situation.
“…You’re getting off easy. Fine. Backstreet Boys only. And you must say that you think it’ll be a great show. Do you still remember? I mean, back when the Backstreet Boys were practically the most popular group around, their legions of fans always screamed whenever they made an appearance,” said Andi.
Rense sighed in defeat and wrote it down, shuddering inwardly at the possible repercussions.
“I am constantly amazed at how well you people know the pop scene. Considering it is completely saturated with half-baked, sappy love songs,” stated Lukas.
“Better fill in something proper for the rest. Otherwise, it’ll be too unbelievable," said Bastian, taking up his pen.
“Bastian Schweinsteiger the voice of reason? How unusual.” Bastian glared at the speaker. Stupid Rense. And stupid LukasAndiPhilipp - stupid everybody! - for clearly agreeing with Rense.
Silence for a while. Then…
“Poldi! I dare you to write that I’m your idol!” yelled Bastian.
“I double dare you to write that you want to be invited to my place. With me as a celebrity, of course,” retorted Lukas. He reluctantly put down ‘Schweini’ under the appropriate question.
“Come on. You know I am your idol. How often have you been amazed at my prowess in prank-ology?”
"And who helped you to achieve that level of prowess? Care to enlighten me?”
Andi laughed. “Dare time’s over,” he said firmly. Surprisingly enough, everyone complied. 'It was once in a blue moon that they were so cooperative,’ he thought.
Poldi finished his and walked over to Miroslav. He peeked over Miroslav’s shoulder and sighed when he caught sight of the words ‘Luan’ and ‘Noah’. He and Bastian had offered to baby-sit the twins since their birth. Unfortunately, Miroslav had firmly refused their offer every single time. He had stated in no uncertain terms that he ‘did not wish to endanger his children’s safety, ‘Sylwia would kill him’ and ‘he firmly believed that neither one of them possessed the capability to care for a hamster and thus, he was never letting them near his children.’
Pity. Lukas liked those twins. Cute babies.
“You can’t sing?” he asked Miroslav incredulously, as his eye caught Miroslav’s answer to the now infamous casting show question.
“No, I can’t,” replied Miroslav calmly.
“Then what about Germany’s national anthem?” Lukas would never refer to it as 'the national anthem.’ There was a reason why he never sang the anthem, after all.
“Err… well, that’s erm… different,” Miroslav stammered, visibly flustered.
“But you always sing it so loudly!” said Lukas, mystified.
“That’s… a different matter altogether. Singing a national anthem along with thousands of others and singing alone in front of people in a casting show is different, you know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pass this up.” Standing, Miroslav scooped up his questionnaire and hastily left the room.
Lukas returned to the others and found them finished with the task. As he collected everyone’s questionnaires to pass them up, he murmured softly to Philipp. “I wonder what the others wrote?”
Philipp glanced over at the older players. “No idea. It won’t be as interesting as ours, I bet.” He grinned.
“Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure filling in this questionnaire with you. May this be the start of a long and enduring tradition.” Making a grand bow, Bastian exited the room.
At the opposite end of the room, Oliver Kahn was filled with mixed feelings. Relief that Bastian, Lukas and that whole group would no longer contribute to his growing tally of white hair and migraines, but also sorrow that the coming season would be his last.
Comments and reviews = love. Constructive criticism = appreciated. ^_^
Title: Questions and Answers
Rating: G
Pairing: None. This is completely gen.
Disclaimer: This story is complete fiction. However, I do wish it was at least partially true.
Summary: Bayern’s first team players fill in questionnaires for their yearbook.
Notes: Thanks to
spicyasparagus for the beta. This was used as research material. Thanks,
drbillbongo, and I hope you don't mind. Inspired by wondering if the players really did gang up when filling in their questionnaires. This fic attempts to explain the rationale behind some answers.
A few weeks before the season was due to start, the first-team players assembled to receive their yearbook questionnaires from a staff member. Usually, it was the same boring questions…name, age, family stats, maybe your favourite food or drink. However, there were a few interesting ones this year, Bastian decided as he skimmed through the questions.
There was no training after lunch that day. As a result, most players decided to use the extra time to fill in the questionnaire. Armed with their questionnaires and a pen, they entered the room usually reserved for post-match analysis and strategy discussions.
As usual, the younger Germans, (read: those under 25) sat together in a corner of the room. The others were in their usual groups while the newcomers sat with whichever group they pleased. Kahn sat alone, pondering over what to write. His final Bayern yearbook.
There was silence during the first few minutes as everyone carefully filled out the basic questions.
Bastian was done first, and he read through the remaining questions a few times, trying to think of suitable answers. A nudge caused him to turn to the left. “Yes, Poldi?”
“Don’t you think some of these questions are hilarious? This one, for example. ‘Which song would you perform for a casting show?’ I mean, it’s not like any of us are planning to launch a future career in singing.”
Bastian laughed, elbowing Lukas back. “Not you, definitely. I’ve never heard more off-key singing than yours. Hope you’ve never tried serenading Monika.”
“Of course I haven’t!” gasped Lukas, a tint of red appearing on his cheeks.
After smirking for a few seconds at Lukas’ obvious discomfort, Bastian said, “Actually, I agree with you. Take a look at this one - ‘How do we look like in our new cross-striped jerseys?’ Come on. Since when were we fashion-obsessed models?”
“Since Bayern decided to make the players model some of their merchandise to boost sales,” said Philipp, looking up from his questionnaire.
“Rense'll finally get to model next year once Olli retires,” grinned Andi, glancing over at Rense.
“Shh… Not too loud. He’ll cling on to that jersey until the day they kick him out of the first team because he no longer has a contract,” muttered Rense, shooting a furtive look in his senior’s direction. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help feeling a tingle of excitement. One of the disadvantages of being a substitute goalie was that you were always number two till the number one left or retired. Naturally, during publicity events, the second goalie was almost always ignored. Rense had heard enough about all the fun and stupid things that happened during photo shoots to want to take part in them too. Like the time Schweini looked like a ghost in a catalogue picture because they forgot to put makeup on him…
“Anyway. Getting back to the topic. Poldi’s right. Some of these questions don’t make sense. Are people really going to buy this yearbook to read our answers?” Bastian wrinkled up his nose, wondering at the thought.
“It’s more worthwhile than buying a mug or a pen just because it has the Bayern logo on it,” commented Philipp.
“Your yearbook answers are more worth their money then? Fancy yourself a superstar, do you Phil?” asked Andi, laughing.
“'Course not! What I meant was that a Bayern yearbook as a whole is more worth the money compared to certain things. I still can’t understand why the fan shop carries rubber ducks, toothbrushes and bathroom slippers. Of all the things to sell.”
“Wonder who buys such things,” mused Lukas.
“Crazy fans,” responded Rense in reply.
“Back to the yearbook. Actually, I think most people will read our answers since they tend to be horribly curious about other people’s quirks and personal lives. It’s why surveys are forever mushrooming up on the Internet,” said Lukas.
“Yeah,” agreed Philipp, busy frowning at the questionnaire.
“Hey! Since people are actually going to buy this and read it from cover to cover, how about putting in some nonsense answers?” asked Bastian. At the others’ surprised faces, he said, “It’s not lies. It’s just 'writing down a few abnormal and extraordinary answers.' We shall… think outside the box. Yes, that’s the phrase. Think outside the box. Well, what do you guys think?”
“It’ll be fun.” Lukas sat up straighter, a look of anticipation on his face.
“Plus, it’ll have the added advantage of not having to reveal so much of our private lives. At the same time, we're ensuring it’s still interesting enough for the fans,” said Andi.
“We could write down things that are true but don’t really make sense. You know, the kind that makes people stare and wonder whether you’ve gone insane.” Philipp had perked up, and was currently grinning at Bastian. “Hey... remember what you said that day about our new kits making us look like cigarette packs? Write that down.” Having thrown down the gauntlet, Philipp sat back in his chair, grinning even wider. Laughter swiftly followed.
Bastian locked eyes with Philipp. When it was clear that Phil would not back down, he issued his own challenge. “You like Joss Stone, and Nicola listens to Pink, right? Write that you’d like to meet Pink backstage after a concert. You know you want to, since Nicola definitely wants to.”
“Deal.” Immediately, Philipp wrote down ‘Pink’ under that question.
“Your turn,” he said, glancing around the table. He supposed that Lukas was rapidly coming up with ideas, judging from the way he was staring into space.
“I think we look like… Marlboro… Medium… cigarette packs. There! I’m done. Who’s next?” Schweini triumphantly brandished his questionnaire in the air at the other four, making sure they could see what he had written.
“I dare… Rense! Write about your wish for a clean environment and eradication of poverty in a way that makes you sound like a Miss Universe candidate instead of a normal human being!” Lukas was shaking with laughter as he said this, the others quickly joining in the laughter.
If looks could kill, Lukas would be six feet under by now. So would Bastian, Philipp and Andi. Nevertheless, Rense wrote it down, reading the complete sentence aloud. Lukas nodded his approval.
“In return, you will write that your parents scolded you for countless things when you were a kid, because everyone knows Lukas Podolski was a bad bad boy.” Lukas promptly scribbled it down.
“Andi?” queried Rense, laughing. "I dare you to write that the celebrities you most want to meet backstage after a concert are The Pussycat Dolls and Justin Timberlake."
Andi glared at him. It was all Bastian’s fault, that one. He had arrived for training humming ‘Don't Cha’ by the Pussycat Dolls, and before Andi knew it, he too was humming along with the catchy but annoying tune. Well, a dare was a dare. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he wrote it down.
“And in return, you will write that you would choose to sing ‘Every Time I Close My Eyes’ by the Backstreet Boys at a casting show.”
“What?!?” spluttered Rense. “No way! My reputation!”
“I didn’t know you had a reputation, Rense,” teased Philipp. He had the unique ability to keep a perfectly straight, innocent-looking face when faced with death glares of the greatest magnitude. Rense fumed. Bother Philipp.
“Look, can’t we just keep the answer at Backstreet Boys? That song has to be the most sappy, emotional thing ever sung on the planet," he pleaded, trying to salvage the situation.
“…You’re getting off easy. Fine. Backstreet Boys only. And you must say that you think it’ll be a great show. Do you still remember? I mean, back when the Backstreet Boys were practically the most popular group around, their legions of fans always screamed whenever they made an appearance,” said Andi.
Rense sighed in defeat and wrote it down, shuddering inwardly at the possible repercussions.
“I am constantly amazed at how well you people know the pop scene. Considering it is completely saturated with half-baked, sappy love songs,” stated Lukas.
“Better fill in something proper for the rest. Otherwise, it’ll be too unbelievable," said Bastian, taking up his pen.
“Bastian Schweinsteiger the voice of reason? How unusual.” Bastian glared at the speaker. Stupid Rense. And stupid LukasAndiPhilipp - stupid everybody! - for clearly agreeing with Rense.
Silence for a while. Then…
“Poldi! I dare you to write that I’m your idol!” yelled Bastian.
“I double dare you to write that you want to be invited to my place. With me as a celebrity, of course,” retorted Lukas. He reluctantly put down ‘Schweini’ under the appropriate question.
“Come on. You know I am your idol. How often have you been amazed at my prowess in prank-ology?”
"And who helped you to achieve that level of prowess? Care to enlighten me?”
Andi laughed. “Dare time’s over,” he said firmly. Surprisingly enough, everyone complied. 'It was once in a blue moon that they were so cooperative,’ he thought.
Poldi finished his and walked over to Miroslav. He peeked over Miroslav’s shoulder and sighed when he caught sight of the words ‘Luan’ and ‘Noah’. He and Bastian had offered to baby-sit the twins since their birth. Unfortunately, Miroslav had firmly refused their offer every single time. He had stated in no uncertain terms that he ‘did not wish to endanger his children’s safety, ‘Sylwia would kill him’ and ‘he firmly believed that neither one of them possessed the capability to care for a hamster and thus, he was never letting them near his children.’
Pity. Lukas liked those twins. Cute babies.
“You can’t sing?” he asked Miroslav incredulously, as his eye caught Miroslav’s answer to the now infamous casting show question.
“No, I can’t,” replied Miroslav calmly.
“Then what about Germany’s national anthem?” Lukas would never refer to it as 'the national anthem.’ There was a reason why he never sang the anthem, after all.
“Err… well, that’s erm… different,” Miroslav stammered, visibly flustered.
“But you always sing it so loudly!” said Lukas, mystified.
“That’s… a different matter altogether. Singing a national anthem along with thousands of others and singing alone in front of people in a casting show is different, you know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pass this up.” Standing, Miroslav scooped up his questionnaire and hastily left the room.
Lukas returned to the others and found them finished with the task. As he collected everyone’s questionnaires to pass them up, he murmured softly to Philipp. “I wonder what the others wrote?”
Philipp glanced over at the older players. “No idea. It won’t be as interesting as ours, I bet.” He grinned.
“Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure filling in this questionnaire with you. May this be the start of a long and enduring tradition.” Making a grand bow, Bastian exited the room.
At the opposite end of the room, Oliver Kahn was filled with mixed feelings. Relief that Bastian, Lukas and that whole group would no longer contribute to his growing tally of white hair and migraines, but also sorrow that the coming season would be his last.