11 - Conviction - part 1
TITLE: Conviction
PAIRING: gen, Philipp Lahm-centric
RATING: PG, a little swearing
LANGUAGE: English
WORD COUNT: 7608
WARNINGS: Swearing
DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the characters personally. Points of view are all fictional. Most of the events, however, are fact.
SUMMARY: Philipp Lahm experiences his first World Cup final.
His pen is poised above the blank sheet of paper, quivering slightly. It had seemed so easy when he had thought about doing it, but now that he was actually writing, no words came out. For what seems like the tenth time that afternoon, Philipp Lahm puts his pen down and sighs. Maybe he shouldn’t write anything and just contact the press. But an interview seems too impersonal. And he wouldn’t be able to choose the perfect words.
He stands up and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water, which would hopefully clear his head. He passes by his room to check on Julian. He smiles fondly at his peacefully sleeping face him and tucks Juli in. His steady breathing makes Philipp feel serene. Feeling readier, he goes back to the dining room and hunches over the table.
This letter is the culmination of a 13-year-long journey, encompassing all its ups and downs. In his heart, Philipp knows he can’t say everything he wants to say. But he hopes that this would be enough.
“Dear friends,” he starts to write.
2013
It is going to be a historic season for Bayern München. Philipp can feel it in his bones. As if to confirm this, the club announces that Pep Guardiola will replace Jupp Heynckes as the Bayern coach.
Philipp is not quite as excited as the rest of the team to be training under him. They keep talking about his success with Barcelona, but Philipp has been through many new and excellent coaches. The process barely changes: they come in, change everything to fit them, and fail to find a compromise between the strategy in their heads and the club’s philosophy.
He can usually tell what sort of a person this coach will be in the first meeting, though. So on the first day of preseason, Philipp arrives extra early to Säbener Strasse.
As soon as he enters the locker room, he sees a balding, hunched figure in a tracksuit.
“Pep Guardiola?” he ventures.
The man looks up and, sure enough, it is Guardiola. “Philipp Lahm. It’s nice to meet you,” he says, standing up and shaking his hand. Philipp is impressed with his German and quickly notes the lack of a translator around.
“Likewise. I’d just like to say I’m excited to work with you for the coming season,” Philipp says warmly. Already, he is starting to like Guardiola.
“I look forward to it as well,” Guardiola says.
* * *
They win their first game against Borussia Mönchengladbach, and Philipp’s hunch just gets stronger. As the season progresses, the team gels together well and Pep soon becomes a natural fixture in the Allianz Arena. Philipp’s respect for Pep only increases after working more extensively with him.
“What do you think of the new coach?” Philipp asks Bastian Schweinsteiger as they jog around the pitch for their warmup.
“Seems nice. And intense,” Bastian says, tilting his head towards Pep’s direction. He’s standing with a notebook in hand, meticulously going over notes from the previous match and training session.
“If he keeps that up, he’ll be completely bald by the end of the season,” a voice pipes up behind them. Philipp doesn't even look; only Thomas Müller would say something like that. He rolls his eyes as Bastian laughs.
“Don’t do that, Philipp,” Thomas warns. “Someday, you’ll be just like him. But smaller.”
“I’ll retire from football soon and return to Bayern as a coach. Then you’ll regret you ever said that,” he jokes, but Bastian suddenly perks up.
“What? You’re retiring soon?” he says in alarm.
“Am I that bad at telling jokes?” he complains but as Bastian and Thomas laugh and forget about it, the sudden thought haunts him for the rest of training.
* * *
At 29 years old, Philipp is hardly in prime retirement age. But in a few weeks, he would turn 30 and that would change everything. It means one year closer to retirement.
He has never put an age cap to his career so it is with some difficulty that he thinks about his situation on the way home. He picks up his phone after training to ask Claudia for her opinion, but then resolutely sets it down after the first ring. He has to be at peace with his decision before talking to her. She is still at work so he has a few moments to himself to think about this.
He wouldn’t retire from Bayern soon; that’s for sure. There are a couple of years left in him for club football at least. But the national team is another matter entirely.
The next major competition would be the World Cup in Brazil. The press is already getting hyped up about it and he and Jogi had discussed it a few times. The next qualification games are not far away and national training sessions would only get more intense from here on. And after that? European Cup in 2016.
He would be 31 by then.
If only I could look into the future and see if we would win the World Cup, then I can easily decide, he thinks to himself. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, brooding and serious. The circles under his eyes have only grown darker, thanks to the number of times he and Claudia had to get up at night whenever Julian pierced the air with his cries. Streaks of gray have appeared in his blonde hair and his wrinkles seem to crease deeper. He rubs a hand over his tired face and sighs. He looks as old as he feels.
What a perfect ending, to retire after winning the top international football competition. Then there would be no need to prove anything at the European Cup. But such foresight is beyond him.
He wakes out of his reverie by the sound of a key unlocking the front door. “Hey,” he greets Claudia with a kiss and takes the groceries from her, but doesn’t say anything else.
* * *
Retiring from international football is the first thing and the last thing on his mind every day. In between, regular training, matches, and Juli all provide ample distraction and he enjoys every moment, but alone, it continually dominates his thoughts.
Everywhere he looks, it’s only one person retiring after the other. Christoph Metzelder. Mark van Bommel. And very recently, Thomas Hitzlsperger. Philipp wonders how long it took them to decide.
“Lahm, stop staring at my ass.” A voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Thomas is bending over in front of him, reaching his left foot.
Philipp just rolls his eyes. “I won’t even dignify that with a reply.”
“But you just replied to me,” Thomas teases, stretching the opposite direction. “And really, will you please just stretch and keep your dirty thoughts to yourself?”
Philipp realizes he was standing stock-still in the middle of the pitch while everyone else is stretching. Embarrassed, he brushes it off with a laugh and starts to stretch as well.
* * *
Training has always been about observation. He plays, but he observes. And then analyzes. And observes some more. He often meets with Pep to talk about tactics and discuss possible formations and other improvements. He always learns something new. Pep has a very different way of thinking about football.
During national training, he has also fallen into the habit of observing Bastian. Among the others, he just stands out. This extremely confident and dominant midfielder bears no resemblance to the awkward, pimply teenager Philipp had first met in 2004. Who would have thought he would have turned out this well?
On the pitch, Bastian is the one yelling instructions to his teammates, pulling them together. In the locker room, he, Thomas, and Lukas provide the entertainment and help the newer ones settle in faster. Even in the team council, Bastian is like Philipp’s right hand man. Jogi turns to him whenever Philipp is not around.
These used to be Philipp’s responsibilities, but increasingly, Bastian has taken over them of his own volition. Philipp wonders if he notices.
He’s also seen the way the kids look at him, like the way Philipp had looked at Kahn during the first time they met, the way they look at him now, too. There’s awe mingled with a little fear, and a lot of respect.
“Are you constipated, Lahmi?” Bastian is looking at him with a funny expression. “Because the toilet’s free now.”
“Just thinking,” he says and Bastian sits down beside him as he towels his hair.
“Of?” he prompts.
“How platinum blonde looked so much better on you,” Philipp teases.
“Ugh please. Let’s not go there,” Bastian grumbles and Philipp laughs.
Remembering something, Philipp excitedly takes out his phone and scans through the gallery. “Lukas!” Philipp calls and the striker walks over. Bastian stops rummaging in his bag to look at both of them dubiously. “Remember this?” Philipp hands his phone to Lukas.
As Lukas starts snickering loudly, Bastian gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What is that?”
“Oh you know,” Philipp says, trying to keep a straight face, “your initiation into the national team. When you had to-“
“Poldi!” Bastian roars, but it’s too late. Lukas is at the other end of the room, showing the embarrassing photos to Julian Draxler and Christoph Kramer. They’re all doubled over in laughter. Philipp has already developed a stitch in his side. The next thing he knows, they’re chasing each other out of the locker room in towels.
Well, at least some things never change.
* * *
He thinks of Bastian on the drive home and makes his decision.
Part 2
PAIRING: gen, Philipp Lahm-centric
RATING: PG, a little swearing
LANGUAGE: English
WORD COUNT: 7608
WARNINGS: Swearing
DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the characters personally. Points of view are all fictional. Most of the events, however, are fact.
SUMMARY: Philipp Lahm experiences his first World Cup final.
His pen is poised above the blank sheet of paper, quivering slightly. It had seemed so easy when he had thought about doing it, but now that he was actually writing, no words came out. For what seems like the tenth time that afternoon, Philipp Lahm puts his pen down and sighs. Maybe he shouldn’t write anything and just contact the press. But an interview seems too impersonal. And he wouldn’t be able to choose the perfect words.
He stands up and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water, which would hopefully clear his head. He passes by his room to check on Julian. He smiles fondly at his peacefully sleeping face him and tucks Juli in. His steady breathing makes Philipp feel serene. Feeling readier, he goes back to the dining room and hunches over the table.
This letter is the culmination of a 13-year-long journey, encompassing all its ups and downs. In his heart, Philipp knows he can’t say everything he wants to say. But he hopes that this would be enough.
“Dear friends,” he starts to write.
2013
It is going to be a historic season for Bayern München. Philipp can feel it in his bones. As if to confirm this, the club announces that Pep Guardiola will replace Jupp Heynckes as the Bayern coach.
Philipp is not quite as excited as the rest of the team to be training under him. They keep talking about his success with Barcelona, but Philipp has been through many new and excellent coaches. The process barely changes: they come in, change everything to fit them, and fail to find a compromise between the strategy in their heads and the club’s philosophy.
He can usually tell what sort of a person this coach will be in the first meeting, though. So on the first day of preseason, Philipp arrives extra early to Säbener Strasse.
As soon as he enters the locker room, he sees a balding, hunched figure in a tracksuit.
“Pep Guardiola?” he ventures.
The man looks up and, sure enough, it is Guardiola. “Philipp Lahm. It’s nice to meet you,” he says, standing up and shaking his hand. Philipp is impressed with his German and quickly notes the lack of a translator around.
“Likewise. I’d just like to say I’m excited to work with you for the coming season,” Philipp says warmly. Already, he is starting to like Guardiola.
“I look forward to it as well,” Guardiola says.
* * *
They win their first game against Borussia Mönchengladbach, and Philipp’s hunch just gets stronger. As the season progresses, the team gels together well and Pep soon becomes a natural fixture in the Allianz Arena. Philipp’s respect for Pep only increases after working more extensively with him.
“What do you think of the new coach?” Philipp asks Bastian Schweinsteiger as they jog around the pitch for their warmup.
“Seems nice. And intense,” Bastian says, tilting his head towards Pep’s direction. He’s standing with a notebook in hand, meticulously going over notes from the previous match and training session.
“If he keeps that up, he’ll be completely bald by the end of the season,” a voice pipes up behind them. Philipp doesn't even look; only Thomas Müller would say something like that. He rolls his eyes as Bastian laughs.
“Don’t do that, Philipp,” Thomas warns. “Someday, you’ll be just like him. But smaller.”
“I’ll retire from football soon and return to Bayern as a coach. Then you’ll regret you ever said that,” he jokes, but Bastian suddenly perks up.
“What? You’re retiring soon?” he says in alarm.
“Am I that bad at telling jokes?” he complains but as Bastian and Thomas laugh and forget about it, the sudden thought haunts him for the rest of training.
* * *
At 29 years old, Philipp is hardly in prime retirement age. But in a few weeks, he would turn 30 and that would change everything. It means one year closer to retirement.
He has never put an age cap to his career so it is with some difficulty that he thinks about his situation on the way home. He picks up his phone after training to ask Claudia for her opinion, but then resolutely sets it down after the first ring. He has to be at peace with his decision before talking to her. She is still at work so he has a few moments to himself to think about this.
He wouldn’t retire from Bayern soon; that’s for sure. There are a couple of years left in him for club football at least. But the national team is another matter entirely.
The next major competition would be the World Cup in Brazil. The press is already getting hyped up about it and he and Jogi had discussed it a few times. The next qualification games are not far away and national training sessions would only get more intense from here on. And after that? European Cup in 2016.
He would be 31 by then.
If only I could look into the future and see if we would win the World Cup, then I can easily decide, he thinks to himself. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, brooding and serious. The circles under his eyes have only grown darker, thanks to the number of times he and Claudia had to get up at night whenever Julian pierced the air with his cries. Streaks of gray have appeared in his blonde hair and his wrinkles seem to crease deeper. He rubs a hand over his tired face and sighs. He looks as old as he feels.
What a perfect ending, to retire after winning the top international football competition. Then there would be no need to prove anything at the European Cup. But such foresight is beyond him.
He wakes out of his reverie by the sound of a key unlocking the front door. “Hey,” he greets Claudia with a kiss and takes the groceries from her, but doesn’t say anything else.
* * *
Retiring from international football is the first thing and the last thing on his mind every day. In between, regular training, matches, and Juli all provide ample distraction and he enjoys every moment, but alone, it continually dominates his thoughts.
Everywhere he looks, it’s only one person retiring after the other. Christoph Metzelder. Mark van Bommel. And very recently, Thomas Hitzlsperger. Philipp wonders how long it took them to decide.
“Lahm, stop staring at my ass.” A voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Thomas is bending over in front of him, reaching his left foot.
Philipp just rolls his eyes. “I won’t even dignify that with a reply.”
“But you just replied to me,” Thomas teases, stretching the opposite direction. “And really, will you please just stretch and keep your dirty thoughts to yourself?”
Philipp realizes he was standing stock-still in the middle of the pitch while everyone else is stretching. Embarrassed, he brushes it off with a laugh and starts to stretch as well.
* * *
Training has always been about observation. He plays, but he observes. And then analyzes. And observes some more. He often meets with Pep to talk about tactics and discuss possible formations and other improvements. He always learns something new. Pep has a very different way of thinking about football.
During national training, he has also fallen into the habit of observing Bastian. Among the others, he just stands out. This extremely confident and dominant midfielder bears no resemblance to the awkward, pimply teenager Philipp had first met in 2004. Who would have thought he would have turned out this well?
On the pitch, Bastian is the one yelling instructions to his teammates, pulling them together. In the locker room, he, Thomas, and Lukas provide the entertainment and help the newer ones settle in faster. Even in the team council, Bastian is like Philipp’s right hand man. Jogi turns to him whenever Philipp is not around.
These used to be Philipp’s responsibilities, but increasingly, Bastian has taken over them of his own volition. Philipp wonders if he notices.
He’s also seen the way the kids look at him, like the way Philipp had looked at Kahn during the first time they met, the way they look at him now, too. There’s awe mingled with a little fear, and a lot of respect.
“Are you constipated, Lahmi?” Bastian is looking at him with a funny expression. “Because the toilet’s free now.”
“Just thinking,” he says and Bastian sits down beside him as he towels his hair.
“Of?” he prompts.
“How platinum blonde looked so much better on you,” Philipp teases.
“Ugh please. Let’s not go there,” Bastian grumbles and Philipp laughs.
Remembering something, Philipp excitedly takes out his phone and scans through the gallery. “Lukas!” Philipp calls and the striker walks over. Bastian stops rummaging in his bag to look at both of them dubiously. “Remember this?” Philipp hands his phone to Lukas.
As Lukas starts snickering loudly, Bastian gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What is that?”
“Oh you know,” Philipp says, trying to keep a straight face, “your initiation into the national team. When you had to-“
“Poldi!” Bastian roars, but it’s too late. Lukas is at the other end of the room, showing the embarrassing photos to Julian Draxler and Christoph Kramer. They’re all doubled over in laughter. Philipp has already developed a stitch in his side. The next thing he knows, they’re chasing each other out of the locker room in towels.
Well, at least some things never change.
* * *
He thinks of Bastian on the drive home and makes his decision.
Part 2