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Chapter 26 - Bayern vs. Leverkusen.
It was Saturday afternoon, mere minutes before the game was about to start and even though he did feel better today, Bastian was still worried. This was his first game in this new chapter of his life and it was so obvious to him that things really were different now. For the first time in a long time he’d looked up into the crowd as he walked out for the pre-game warm-up, his eyes on those seats just above the Bayern bench, and there was no Dani there smiling at him. She’d only ever missed a few matches before and it had always been due to school or illness. Three days ago though, he’d expected her to be here. Now she wasn’t.
He couldn’t blame her, and it’s not as though he’d really been expecting to see her. The shock over everything was still so fresh after all. If this wasn’t his job and he didn’t take it so seriously, he wouldn’t be here right now either. Things were too confusing, too painful, and he was so worried that he might not be able to concentrate. He was trying not to think about things, he was trying to focus on the game ahead but it was just so hard. He felt like he’d lost one of the most important people in his life and as of right now, there wasn’t even a replacement.
Not that he thought Lukas could ever replace Dani, because he couldn’t. His feelings for Lukas were different than the ones he had for Dani, he felt different things with him. So what should he call him, then? He wasn’t quite sure. And he didn’t care how lame it sounded, but the only way he could accurately describe this feeling right now was by saying that he felt as though there was this big, gaping hole in his chest, this numbing and overwhelming feeling of just being alone, that no one around him could touch. It didn’t matter who was around him right now, because there was only one person he wanted to be near at the moment.
But unfortunately for him, that person was still hiding in Poland. He just wanted to see Lukas and get an answer. He was so afraid of the answer and it honestly didn’t even matter what the answer would be because both options were absolutely terrifying. He knew if Lukas came back and told him no, that he didn’t love him back and didn’t want to even contemplate the possibility of Bastian’s feelings, he knew that would break him down. Not only would he be upset over the emotions not being returned, but then he would have ruined what had been a perfect relationship, all for nothing. But if Lukas said yes? If he agreed that he was in love too? What then? Bastian wasn’t stupid enough to think that things would somehow be perfect and happy straight away, if ever. They were both guys who’d never once seriously contemplated ever having any kind of a real relationship with another guy. How would they cope? What would they do with each other?
So even though he tried to think about the match, though he tried to focus on three minutes away when he walked out onto the pitch, all he could think about was his future. Provided things did work out with Lukas, how would it change them when Lukas was well enough to play again? Of course he wanted to think it would make them stronger, but what if it didn’t? What if they became too distracted while playing together? Or what if they became too attached to each other on the field and started ignoring anyone else? There was no way to know what changes would occur, but he knew that something would change. It was inevitable.
He looked down at the kid standing next to him and yet another thought hit him. He wanted kids. He wanted a family. Lately he’d been thinking about when he and Dani would have been starting their family, how many more years they’d put it off. He, of course, wanted boys, and Dani wanted girls. He suddenly thought back to one night three months ago, when they’d lain in bed for three hours, him drinking beer and her drinking wine, and they’d argued over kids’ names. He’d jokingly suggested that if they had girls, they ought to give them names with distinct meanings. Like Agnes, he’d said, who was a virgin Saint. He put extra emphasis on the word virgin. Daniela yelled at him that that was a stupid idea and that if they did have girls, she was not going to let him play the role of the mean, crotchety, and over-protective father. He joked that he was going to challenge any boyfriends to a wrestling match, provided they weren’t twice his size. Then he went on to say that if they had girls they wouldn’t be allowed to date any guys who were bigger than he was. Daniela retorted by saying that if they did have any boys, she hoped they’d all turn out to be computer geeks and lab scientists, anything but athletes.
He looked away from the kid and stared straight ahead, biting his lip and trying to control the feelings that were welling up in him. He kept telling himself to think about the match, to get through this afternoon before he let himself think about the future. He had to deal with today first. A minute later and it was time to head up. Forcing a smile to his face he looked down at the little boy standing next to him, and held his hand out. When the boy slipped his hand into Bastian’s he felt that desire for kids rush to the forefront again. If things worked out with him and Lukas, would kids even be possible?
He followed his team mates up and out of the tunnel, walking across the pitch and stopping to stand in a row, looking once again to that spot above the bench, feeling that pang of sadness hit him when he saw that empty seat. But he couldn’t look away.
If things with Lukas did work out, would it ever be enough to make up for what he was losing with Dani? Would he always feel like something was missing, the way he did now? And these feelings right now were so confusing! Two days ago and he’d been certain that his feelings for Lukas were stronger than his feelings for Dani. But now that they were both gone? Now that he’d chased the both of them away? He wasn’t so sure who he wanted more.
He walked off to his position on the field while Kahn and Bernd Schneider stayed back for the coin flip. Bernd had said hello to him in the tunnel and Bastian had returned the greeting, grateful when Bernd didn’t ask him how Lukas was doing. Lukas was a popular topic with his national team mates, after all. But there was a time and a place for friendly conversation and right before a match wasn’t it.
Following that line of thought, taking on an opponent out on the field was not the proper time or place to think about your future, either. Or even your present. Bastian was determined to put thoughts of Lukas and Daniela out of his head; determined to pay attention and focus on this game and get through today. Tomorrow would be another day. There was no practice tomorrow, not unless they got destroyed by Leverkusen today.
Play started and soon Bastian was chasing after the ball, attempting to block a pass from Marko Babic to Andriy Voronin. It went past him, not his fault really since there was so much space, but it was alright because Mark was there, waiting to intercept. Bastian left Babic behind and went forward, receiving the pass from Mark, taking it up a bit before sending it forward to Philipp, who’d made the run up. Philipp sent it in to Pizarro, who looked as though he was about to take a shot, before he lobbed it over to Roy. The shot from the Dutch striker was barely deflected and if it hadn’t gone straight at Athirson, who managed to send it off down field, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Roy would have been able to hit the rebound and score. All in all, not a bad start for Bayern.
The pace of the match was kept up and Bastian was constantly running from one end to the next, his mind solely focused on the game. He was so busy though that he didn’t really have any other choice. In the twenty third minute, no goals scored yet, a free kick was awarded to the Bavarian club. It was in that spot that Bastian so liked to shoot from.
He stepped up to take it, looking ahead at Roy and Mark who were there to set it up. There was always that minute spent ensuring everyone was properly placed before these shots were taken and usually Bastian enjoyed that moment of calmness. He’d especially enjoyed those moments when Lukas was also involved in the shots, when they would stand there together, maybe not saying anything or maybe making some silly comment, it all depended on how the match was going so far. But they’d always looked at each other and smiled, not requiring words to say how grateful they were to have the chance to play at such a high level with each other.
The sudden thought of Lukas was enough to throw him off. He could feel that uncertainty creeping back in; he could feel the nerves twisting his stomach into knots again. Focus. He needed to focus on his shot and put Lukas out of his head. He’d have all the time in the world to think about him later; right now he had to think about this shot and only this shot. He set up for it, his eyes on the goal, before looking at the front of it, judging the position of his team mates. Should he go for it himself? Should he hit it in to the centre and hope that Micho, Pizza, or Van Buyten would be there to receive it?
It was time to take the shot and he hit it hard, deciding at the last moment to hit it in to Pizarro, who was just a little more open than the others. But instead of finding his target he overshot the ball and it sailed cleanly over the net. He hadn’t messed up one of those shots in a while and he felt embarrassed that he’d done it now. He obviously hadn’t been concentrating enough.
He tried to put it out of his head though as the game got re-started. He tried not to let it bother him. It was doubly hard to try not to think about it now because he knew what had caused him to screw it up. He’d allowed himself to get distracted and now that the distracting thoughts had infiltrated his head again, it was very hard to get them out. He was there to receive a pass up from Micho, who was starting this game instead of Lucio as the Brazilian defender had slipped a bit recently in head coach Magath’s books. Bastian knocked the ball down with his chest and turned to take it up but then, right in front of him and challenging for possession was Bernd.
Of all the Leverkusen players to show up for the challenge and it had to be Bernd Schneider. When he looked at Bernd he thought about the national team; it was an unavoidable reaction, really, since the national team and everyone on it was so important to him. But he tried to concentrate on the challenge and for a moment they struggled. Bernd managed to wrestle the ball away but for just a moment Bastian had the chance to slide in between his legs and kick it away, up a few feet where Andi was now waiting, seeing the same opportunity Bastian was looking at. So he shot his leg out, aiming for the ball that was sitting beside Bernd’s right foot.
Unfortunately for him Bernd picked that moment to pass it off and the ball was gone before Bastian had a chance to hit it. Instead, he ended up hitting the other man; Bastian’s right foot meeting Bernd’s left. It left the Leverkusen captain hopping for a moment, before gingerly putting the foot down and trying to work out the little spasm of pain he’d felt at the contact.
Bastian felt bad about it. Maybe he should have anticipated Bernd releasing the ball a bit more and he should have controlled his own foot better. But once again he’d been just slightly distracted and thinking only about hitting the ball and not about also preparing to stop the kick if the ball was cleared away first. And unfortunately for him, it looked like he wouldn’t be getting off easy for it.
The official jogged over, reaching immediately for his front pocket where the cards were kept. Bastian’s eyes widened in shock when the yellow one was pulled out. Surely it hadn’t been that bad to actually merit a card? It should have only been a warning, if anything. There was no malice behind it, wasn’t it clear that he’d been going for the ball? Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Before he even had a chance to approach the official and say anything Mark was already there, pleading his case. The official wasn’t having any of it though and warned the Dutch midfielder to back off or risk getting one himself. So Mark held his hands up and backed away, turning to look at Bastian and shaking his head. He didn’t have to say anything; Bastian could see by the look in Mark’s eyes that he thought the official was reacting too strongly. That made him feel a little better.
He also felt better about it when Bernd patted him on the shoulder and told him not to worry about it, he knew that Bastian had only been going for the ball and hadn’t meant it. He did feel a little better, but it didn’t take away from the churning sense of dread now in the pit of his stomach. Whether from a too-strong reaction of the official or not, he’d earned himself a yellow card by not paying attention and focusing solely on the game. He couldn’t afford to make that same mistake again.
So he tried to put the card out of his mind, although that was hard because he was now feeling angry that he’d gotten it. He’d been too shocked at the time he’d seen it to feel the anger, but now it was starting to rise. Already in the game other much worse tackles had occurred, and they’d been just as late as his, yet there hadn’t been a card for them. There was always one example though, after the official had granted one too many warnings, and this time it was Bastian. He just hoped now that Magath wouldn’t berate him for it later. That was the last thing he needed.
Play resumed and soon Bastian had managed to get lost in the game again. His anger over the card had allowed him to push Lukas out of his head finally, and once he was running around again even the anger over his yellow card had subsided. Now he was back down at his own end of the field, his arm resting on the right goalpost, his eyes briefly glancing over at Philipp who was at the left, before looking out in front of him and seeing Kahn, waving his arms and finishing up with his instructions to the other guys in front. Leverkusen was taking a corner.
This time Bastian didn’t let himself get distracted like he had earlier. This time he kept his eyes on the shifting players, making himself name each Leverkusen player in front of the net, calling to mind who liked to take headers and who liked to shoot with which foot. He had to keep his head on the game this time. Finally the corner shot was taken by Bernd and Bastian watched the ball come sailing in, a perfect delivery, and he watched and anticipated as he saw it head right for Stefan Kiessling’s head. A quick look to the left though and he saw that Kahn was right there, waiting for the header, judging in a split second at what angle the young striker would hit it and waiting right there. Bastian made sure there was no way the ball would get in the net if the keeper managed to miss it. Luckily though the Bayern captain had judged correctly and he’d easily caught the header, screaming at his team to move forward. Bastian didn’t think twice and ran, as quick as he could, up and away from the goal, back toward the middle of the field. A quick look back showed that Kahn had delivered the ball to Philipp, who was taking it up on the left side as usual; protecting it from Tranquillo Barnetta’s wandering feet before shooting it up to Andi.
Andi didn’t take long with the ball, passing it in to Willy, who in turn passed it on to Mark, who passed it up to Roy. The striker headed it over to Pizarro, who touched it twice before sending it hurtling past keeper Butt’s lunging form. Score one for Bayern. They converged on Pizarro, Mark reaching him first before they were joined by Andi and Roy, and soon Bastian was there too, slinging an arm around Andi’s back and one across Roy’s. They’d needed this goal.
But there was still another ten minutes left in the half, so they quickly got back into position, awaiting Butt’s goal kick down field. The goal was enough to keep Bastian’s head on the game for now as he closed in on Barnetta, managing to intercept the weak pass the Swiss midfielder was aiming to Paul Freier. Once he’d gotten possession of the ball Bastian turned, looking briefly up the field and spotting Mark. He passed up to the Dutchman, quickly minimizing the distance between them and receiving the pass back as Mark got swamped by two Leverkusen players. Bastian was close enough now for a shot and he took one. Now that he was focused it went perfectly toward the net, barely stopped by Butt, weakly punched away. But Roy was right there to take the rebound and just as his foot was about to make contact, the side official ruled the Dutchman to be offside.
The offside rule was always a frustrating one, especially for the player who wasn’t even directly involved in it. If Roy had managed to score on that, it would have made Bastian very happy. It was always nice to be involved in a goal in some way, even if it was simply one of your team mates scoring a rebound on your deflected shot. If you hadn’t taken that shot in the first place, the ball never would have been up there for them to pounce on.
The whistle was blown for half-time after only one extra minute had been added and Bastian followed his team mates down for the half-game chat. After the past ten minutes he’d been firmly in the game, thoughts about Lukas, Daniela, or his yellow card anywhere but on the forefront of his thoughts. But now that things had slowed down and he wasn’t running around anymore, they were starting to creep up again. The first one to make a re-appearance was the issue of the yellow card. Was Magath going to say anything about it? He’d just given Bastian one of those looks, the kind he gave when he was unhappy. Was a comment following?
He followed the others into the changing room, taking a bottle of water and sitting down. He couldn’t help but feel just a little more tired than usual after playing only the first half. But when he thought about it, he wasn’t only running around after the ball out there, he was also running away from his problems, running to keep them out of his head. So in a sense he was working twice as hard because as long as he was focused on the game, he wouldn’t start thinking about anything else. Those other things were too painful to think about, too distracting. But now that he’d stopped and was sitting, they were back.
It was hard not to think about them, really. He couldn’t help but think about these moments back before Lukas had been injured. They’d be sitting on opposite sides of the room, pretending to listen avidly to Magath’s half-time speech but in reality they’d be making faces at each other. Unless the game was going really poorly and Magath was really angry; they’d be paying attention then. But they’d still look across at each other and be unable to avoid a smile. No matter how much angry yelling the coach had for them, it was okay as long as they could look across the room at each other. And when Magath was done with the speech? One of them would get up and wander over to the other. Usually it was Bastian who walked over to Lukas, who sat in between Roy and Pizarro. They’d tease each other about something or other that had happened during the match, and if nothing worth teasing over had happened, they’d bring up something from the last time they’d been together.
There was no Lukas here now for Bastian to laugh with, to make a funny face at, or just to lock gazes with and smile. He felt his breath catch in his throat when he thought that in the future, Lukas might be back, but that they might not share that same togetherness anymore in the midst of games. They might come down here, sit apart from each other, and ignore one another. Rather it would be Lukas ignoring him, while Bastian would probably stare at him and wish for some kind of acknowledgment. There was no way he’d ever be able to ignore Lukas.
If things went bad between them, it would all be Lukas’ choice. Even if he decided that he didn’t love Bastian back, he knew that he would still want to be as close to Lukas possible. If Lukas didn’t push him away like Bastian feared he would, then maybe things wouldn’t change too much between them. Maybe they’d still be able to be their normal selves and maybe over time Bastian’s feelings would subside. But there was no way he would ever be able to stay away from Lukas; that much he knew. Not only was Lukas too important to him, but the act of simply being near him, touching him and teasing him, that was also too important to Bastian. He could never willingly give it up.
Once everyone was in and seated and the door was closed behind them, Magath gave his speech. He congratulated them on being the better team in the first half, on their superior passes and ability to recover possession quickly. He did mention that there had been a few moments of not so glorious actions, pointedly looking at Bastian, though he also turned his unhappy gaze on Willy, who’d narrowly escaped receiving a card himself for a late tackle on Kiessling. But overall, Magath was pleased with their performance and warned them not to get complacent with one goal. He wanted at least two more.
They were able to relax for a few minutes and Bastian was so surprised that Magath hadn’t singled him out more. Maybe he’d do it later, when they were alone? Did he just not see the point in doing it in front of everyone? It didn’t really matter anyway, he supposed. He still had that stupid card even though he shouldn’t. That official was an idiot. Without even giving it a second thought he’d immediately imagined the conversation with Lukas he’d have after the match about the official. It hurt to think about that. Even with everything that was going on, when something worthy of discussion happened he was still thinking of discussing it with Lukas, almost as though in the back of his mind there was a part of him that was just stubbornly refusing to recognize that he’d screwed things up between them. There would be no discussing the official’s stupid booking decision this time because he’d driven Lukas away. He’d made him leave.
And it was worse because now he didn’t even have Dani to discuss it with either! He didn’t have anyone except the guys sitting around him, and though he liked them all well enough, he didn’t really want to talk to any of them at the moment. None of them could replace what he’d lost.
It was time to head back up and he followed the guys up, still not talking to anyone. He was walking behind Andi and Philipp, who were talking. Usually he would be talking with them, if Lukas wasn’t around. But when Lukas had been around, they’d always returned from half-time discussion together, walking side by side and talking. He missed that. Right now, especially, he missed it a lot. He’d miss it even more in the future if Lukas came back and decided that he wanted nothing to do with him. What would it be like, walking out after half-time, watching as Lukas walked out and talked with someone else? It would hurt. There had been times when Lukas had foregone his company back on to the pitch for Roy’s or Pizarro’s, but that had never stung as much because he’d known that they had always been discussing things relating to the game. And Lukas had always looked back at him every time, a smile on his face before they walked out onto the pitch. There was always that bit of acknowledgment between them and if Lukas ever took it away, if he ever refrained from giving it to Bastian, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it. Who would he have then? Sure, he was friends with everyone else on the team for the most part. He was close with Andi and Philipp, but when it came to the four of them, it had always been Andi and Philipp, and he and Lukas. He liked the other two a lot, but they weren’t Lukas.
So for the second time today Bastian stood on the pitch, feeling distracted and unsure of the future. He knew he had to get back into the game but it was so hard when these feelings were clouding his mind. He just wanted this game to be done and over with so he could focus on his distracting thoughts. Not that he particularly wanted to think about life without Lukas, but it was so distracting that he knew he couldn’t focus on anything else. Maybe if he exhausted himself thinking about every possible bad way that this could turn out, eventually his mind would just stop getting distracted with new ways that things could go wrong for him.
The second half of the match played out very similarly to the first, even down to Bastian missing another two set pieces. One was another free kick, while the other was a corner. In both instances he overshot his target. By the time he’d missed the corner, frustration over his inability to concentrate after a momentary break in action was welling up in his head. Why was he having such a hard time? He’d ruined three perfect opportunities for goals in this game alone. There was no way Magath would keep his mouth shut about this.
It’s not that he was playing poorly. He was still managing well when he was running around on the field, opposing players putting pressure on him to perform. He just wasn’t playing up to standard. He was distracted and it was so easy to see that. Try as he might to concentrate, his frustration at not being able to concentrate was causing him to slip up. He made a few sloppy passes; he lost possession off of passes made to him; and now he just wasn’t paying attention to the field, he wasn’t seeing the plays that he should be making. It was getting so bad now that after one particularly weak pass intended for Roy, the Dutch striker approached him while the match was stopped for an injury to Leverkusen’s side. Roy asked him if he was alright, noting that he wasn’t playing at his standard, that he just wasn’t making his shots. It was so hard for Bastian to try and answer, to shrug his shoulders and just say that he was having an off day. Roy was good about these things though, and just squeezed his shoulder and told him to keep trying, despite his current struggles. Bastian knew he had to be playing pretty poorly though if Roy had actually asked him about it.
Twenty minutes had now passed into the second half and Bastian was feeling exhausted. It was rough enough to keep up the necessary energy to run all over the pitch for ninety minutes on a good day, but when your mind was plagued with worries it became even harder. He was drained, both physically and mentally. He was still trying though; he still managed to get off a good shot here and there. He’d gotten a shot on net moments earlier, but it had been barely wide. Those were always frustrating to watch.
Five minutes later and there was another lull, in which the official was awarding a yellow card to Barnetta for a late tackle on Philipp. Bastian was feeling a little nervous though and it had nothing to do with what was going on in regards to Barnetta. A glance at the sidelines had shown him Ali Karimi standing near the official, Magath standing on the midfielder’s other side. Someone was getting subbed off and he was pretty certain it was going to be him. He wasn’t playing to his standard and he knew Magath had to be burning about it.
So it wasn’t with a great deal of surprise when he saw confirmation that Karimi was coming on for him. On one hand, he was happy that the game was finally over for him. He knew he was too distracted to be playing. But then on the other hand he hated ever being subbed out. He hated the thought that he’d allowed himself to play poorly enough to be unable to finish the match. There was no reason for him to have played so poorly today; he should have been able to put everything behind him and focus on what needed to be done. But he hadn’t been able to and now he was paying the price. He walked off the pitch, over to the sidelines where Karimi was waiting. Their hands touched briefly and Bastian managed to wish him luck before Karimi ran off, obviously excited to be going on.
He didn’t look at Magath as he walked to the bench, certain the coach had nothing but harsh words for him. He was relieved when Magath went back to his seat, not saying anything yet. He knew the reprimand would be coming at some point, but he was happy enough to avoid it for now. He sat down quickly, busying himself with the task of removing his shin guards, wanting to avoid conversation with anyone else. His team mates left him alone, eyes glued to the match, waiting and hoping for that next Bayern goal to secure the victory a little better.
He wanted to pay attention to the remainder of the game, really he did. He felt bad enough about being taken off that the least he could do was pay attention until the end. But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. He just kept thinking about that empty seat somewhere above him, wondering if Daniela was even watching the match on TV perhaps, or if she wasn’t paying attention at all. Was any reminder of him right now too much for her? She was stuck in an apartment full of reminders, though.
He suddenly wondered if she’d told anyone. Who would she tell, though? He knew she wasn’t the type to tell anyone anything until it was a proven fact that she knew for certain. But this was so personal, what if she’d blurted it out to someone? Lena, maybe? That would explain the other girl’s absence, at least. The three girls were usually always at the game together, unless one of them had somewhere else to be. He hoped Anna didn’t know. He was certain of Lena’s levelheadedness, but Anna was another case entirely. What if she’d told her parents? Obviously she wouldn’t tell them the whole reason, but what if she’d told them things between them were rocky? What if she wasn’t here right now because she was with them? What if he really had driven the both of them, her and Lukas, completely away from him? He wouldn’t blame them. He wasn’t sure he’d want his own company after what he’d done.
He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that Bayern had scored again until the sudden movement next to him jostled him back to the present time. The guys up and down the bench were celebrating and Bastian felt horrible. He didn’t even deserve to be sitting out here right now. If he couldn’t let go of his problems for a few hours and give all of his attention to this club, then what was the point of his being here? He felt like he betraying all of his team mates sitting on the bench right now. He was certain that every single one of them would focus completely on the match if they had the chance to be out there playing. They were so focused on things now, simply sitting on the bench.
He was being selfish right now, he knew it. He should be putting his problems aside and thinking about the club, but he couldn’t. Not even a minute after finding out his side had scored again and his thoughts were already trying to go back to where they’d been before the interruption. He didn’t even know who’d scored.
He battled with himself during the remainder of the match, trying to watch, trying to pay attention. He’d be focused for a minute but then something would happen and suddenly he’d be thinking about his problems again; suddenly he’d be looking ahead but not really seeing what was in front of him, his eyes unfocused and his mind running rampant. There was no shaking it.
Finally the match ended, 2-0 for the Bavarian side. Not the 3-0 Magath had demanded, but at least they hadn’t conceded any goals. Bastian made himself get up and go out to celebrate with the others, but he was only going through the motions and not really living them. He didn’t want to be out here. He didn’t feel like he’d contributed enough today to deserve to celebrate. He just wanted to head down, take a shower and prepare himself for whatever Magath would have to say to him, and then leave.
Maybe he’d call Dani tonight. As hard as it would be on him to talk to her, he needed to talk to someone who knew. That and he simply missed her. He’d missed seeing her smile in the stands, cheering him on. He missed not having her there to take care of all the things he was too lazy to do. Just as the old adage says, you really don’t give much thought to what you have until you lose it. He’d always loved her and appreciated her, but he’d never really realized just how much she’d done for him while they were together. Not just in a physical sense either, but just her presence alone, just being there. Now that she wasn’t there anymore, he was really feeling it. He missed her.
Finally they were able to head down, stripping out of their kit and preparing for the showers while Magath gave a post-game speech. He was unhappy that they’d only managed one more goal, but he was still pleased that the defense had stood up and they hadn’t conceded any goals themselves. He was happy enough that he upheld the decision to not train tomorrow, giving them a day off. This made everyone happy and soon enough they were hitting the showers.
Bastian took his time, letting the warm water run over him, bracing himself against the wall with his eyes closed. Maybe if he took long enough everyone would be gone and he could escape more easily. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone. He’d been waiting all day for someone to ask him where Lukas was, why he wasn’t here at the match. He’d been to the last two, after all. But luckily no one had asked yet.
He turned off the water when he finally couldn’t stay in the shower any longer, grabbing his towel and starting to dry off. He made his way back out and noticed that a few of the guys had left, and a few were almost ready to leave, standing around and chatting before heading out. He sat down and started to get dressed, trying to keep out of conversations and finish getting ready so he could leave. Was Magath still around? Was he maybe going to wait to say anything until training on Monday? Fear of being reprimanded for his yellow card was still gnawing at Bastian. Maybe not fear so much as anxiety and nerves. It wasn’t even so much the reprimanding itself as the timing. He’d been doing so well lately, and today was putting his current good standings with Magath in jeopardy.
When he was finally finished he stood up, waving to the remaining few and saying goodbye. He quickly made for the arena exit, walking down the halls and hoping that no one would stop him. When he got to the exit though, there was Magath, talking to a few people Bastian thought looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them. The coach seemed to be jovial enough, which was a good sign. But he quickly noticed Bastian and bid the men goodbye, waiting for his young star to approach. The last thing he wanted right now was to have this conversation. He knew Magath was going to come down hard on him for his performance during the game. He just hoped he’d be able to keep his cool.
“I won’t take too much of your time.” They were standing very close now, Bastian forcing himself to meet his coach’s gaze. “Now I don’t know what your problem was today, but you obviously weren’t completely in the game. I suggest you rectify whatever it is that was distracting you out there before Monday, because I do not want to see that from you again.” Bastian was a little surprised at the words as they were slightly less venomous than he’d expected, and especially surprised that the look on Magath’s face wasn’t an angry glare. “You are better than what you showed today, Bastian. Much better. I expect to see that next week.” With that said the coach nodded to the doors, as though he were telling the young man that he was dismissed. Bastian just nodded and left, shocked that the conversation had been better than he’d anticipated. Did that mean that Magath thought his yellow card had been undeserved? Had he played so well at certain points that it made up for his shitty play during other moments? He wasn’t sure what the reason was for Magath to react in a much nicer manner, but he wasn’t about to stand around debating it. He had more important things to attend to.
It was Saturday afternoon, mere minutes before the game was about to start and even though he did feel better today, Bastian was still worried. This was his first game in this new chapter of his life and it was so obvious to him that things really were different now. For the first time in a long time he’d looked up into the crowd as he walked out for the pre-game warm-up, his eyes on those seats just above the Bayern bench, and there was no Dani there smiling at him. She’d only ever missed a few matches before and it had always been due to school or illness. Three days ago though, he’d expected her to be here. Now she wasn’t.
He couldn’t blame her, and it’s not as though he’d really been expecting to see her. The shock over everything was still so fresh after all. If this wasn’t his job and he didn’t take it so seriously, he wouldn’t be here right now either. Things were too confusing, too painful, and he was so worried that he might not be able to concentrate. He was trying not to think about things, he was trying to focus on the game ahead but it was just so hard. He felt like he’d lost one of the most important people in his life and as of right now, there wasn’t even a replacement.
Not that he thought Lukas could ever replace Dani, because he couldn’t. His feelings for Lukas were different than the ones he had for Dani, he felt different things with him. So what should he call him, then? He wasn’t quite sure. And he didn’t care how lame it sounded, but the only way he could accurately describe this feeling right now was by saying that he felt as though there was this big, gaping hole in his chest, this numbing and overwhelming feeling of just being alone, that no one around him could touch. It didn’t matter who was around him right now, because there was only one person he wanted to be near at the moment.
But unfortunately for him, that person was still hiding in Poland. He just wanted to see Lukas and get an answer. He was so afraid of the answer and it honestly didn’t even matter what the answer would be because both options were absolutely terrifying. He knew if Lukas came back and told him no, that he didn’t love him back and didn’t want to even contemplate the possibility of Bastian’s feelings, he knew that would break him down. Not only would he be upset over the emotions not being returned, but then he would have ruined what had been a perfect relationship, all for nothing. But if Lukas said yes? If he agreed that he was in love too? What then? Bastian wasn’t stupid enough to think that things would somehow be perfect and happy straight away, if ever. They were both guys who’d never once seriously contemplated ever having any kind of a real relationship with another guy. How would they cope? What would they do with each other?
So even though he tried to think about the match, though he tried to focus on three minutes away when he walked out onto the pitch, all he could think about was his future. Provided things did work out with Lukas, how would it change them when Lukas was well enough to play again? Of course he wanted to think it would make them stronger, but what if it didn’t? What if they became too distracted while playing together? Or what if they became too attached to each other on the field and started ignoring anyone else? There was no way to know what changes would occur, but he knew that something would change. It was inevitable.
He looked down at the kid standing next to him and yet another thought hit him. He wanted kids. He wanted a family. Lately he’d been thinking about when he and Dani would have been starting their family, how many more years they’d put it off. He, of course, wanted boys, and Dani wanted girls. He suddenly thought back to one night three months ago, when they’d lain in bed for three hours, him drinking beer and her drinking wine, and they’d argued over kids’ names. He’d jokingly suggested that if they had girls, they ought to give them names with distinct meanings. Like Agnes, he’d said, who was a virgin Saint. He put extra emphasis on the word virgin. Daniela yelled at him that that was a stupid idea and that if they did have girls, she was not going to let him play the role of the mean, crotchety, and over-protective father. He joked that he was going to challenge any boyfriends to a wrestling match, provided they weren’t twice his size. Then he went on to say that if they had girls they wouldn’t be allowed to date any guys who were bigger than he was. Daniela retorted by saying that if they did have any boys, she hoped they’d all turn out to be computer geeks and lab scientists, anything but athletes.
He looked away from the kid and stared straight ahead, biting his lip and trying to control the feelings that were welling up in him. He kept telling himself to think about the match, to get through this afternoon before he let himself think about the future. He had to deal with today first. A minute later and it was time to head up. Forcing a smile to his face he looked down at the little boy standing next to him, and held his hand out. When the boy slipped his hand into Bastian’s he felt that desire for kids rush to the forefront again. If things worked out with him and Lukas, would kids even be possible?
He followed his team mates up and out of the tunnel, walking across the pitch and stopping to stand in a row, looking once again to that spot above the bench, feeling that pang of sadness hit him when he saw that empty seat. But he couldn’t look away.
If things with Lukas did work out, would it ever be enough to make up for what he was losing with Dani? Would he always feel like something was missing, the way he did now? And these feelings right now were so confusing! Two days ago and he’d been certain that his feelings for Lukas were stronger than his feelings for Dani. But now that they were both gone? Now that he’d chased the both of them away? He wasn’t so sure who he wanted more.
He walked off to his position on the field while Kahn and Bernd Schneider stayed back for the coin flip. Bernd had said hello to him in the tunnel and Bastian had returned the greeting, grateful when Bernd didn’t ask him how Lukas was doing. Lukas was a popular topic with his national team mates, after all. But there was a time and a place for friendly conversation and right before a match wasn’t it.
Following that line of thought, taking on an opponent out on the field was not the proper time or place to think about your future, either. Or even your present. Bastian was determined to put thoughts of Lukas and Daniela out of his head; determined to pay attention and focus on this game and get through today. Tomorrow would be another day. There was no practice tomorrow, not unless they got destroyed by Leverkusen today.
Play started and soon Bastian was chasing after the ball, attempting to block a pass from Marko Babic to Andriy Voronin. It went past him, not his fault really since there was so much space, but it was alright because Mark was there, waiting to intercept. Bastian left Babic behind and went forward, receiving the pass from Mark, taking it up a bit before sending it forward to Philipp, who’d made the run up. Philipp sent it in to Pizarro, who looked as though he was about to take a shot, before he lobbed it over to Roy. The shot from the Dutch striker was barely deflected and if it hadn’t gone straight at Athirson, who managed to send it off down field, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Roy would have been able to hit the rebound and score. All in all, not a bad start for Bayern.
The pace of the match was kept up and Bastian was constantly running from one end to the next, his mind solely focused on the game. He was so busy though that he didn’t really have any other choice. In the twenty third minute, no goals scored yet, a free kick was awarded to the Bavarian club. It was in that spot that Bastian so liked to shoot from.
He stepped up to take it, looking ahead at Roy and Mark who were there to set it up. There was always that minute spent ensuring everyone was properly placed before these shots were taken and usually Bastian enjoyed that moment of calmness. He’d especially enjoyed those moments when Lukas was also involved in the shots, when they would stand there together, maybe not saying anything or maybe making some silly comment, it all depended on how the match was going so far. But they’d always looked at each other and smiled, not requiring words to say how grateful they were to have the chance to play at such a high level with each other.
The sudden thought of Lukas was enough to throw him off. He could feel that uncertainty creeping back in; he could feel the nerves twisting his stomach into knots again. Focus. He needed to focus on his shot and put Lukas out of his head. He’d have all the time in the world to think about him later; right now he had to think about this shot and only this shot. He set up for it, his eyes on the goal, before looking at the front of it, judging the position of his team mates. Should he go for it himself? Should he hit it in to the centre and hope that Micho, Pizza, or Van Buyten would be there to receive it?
It was time to take the shot and he hit it hard, deciding at the last moment to hit it in to Pizarro, who was just a little more open than the others. But instead of finding his target he overshot the ball and it sailed cleanly over the net. He hadn’t messed up one of those shots in a while and he felt embarrassed that he’d done it now. He obviously hadn’t been concentrating enough.
He tried to put it out of his head though as the game got re-started. He tried not to let it bother him. It was doubly hard to try not to think about it now because he knew what had caused him to screw it up. He’d allowed himself to get distracted and now that the distracting thoughts had infiltrated his head again, it was very hard to get them out. He was there to receive a pass up from Micho, who was starting this game instead of Lucio as the Brazilian defender had slipped a bit recently in head coach Magath’s books. Bastian knocked the ball down with his chest and turned to take it up but then, right in front of him and challenging for possession was Bernd.
Of all the Leverkusen players to show up for the challenge and it had to be Bernd Schneider. When he looked at Bernd he thought about the national team; it was an unavoidable reaction, really, since the national team and everyone on it was so important to him. But he tried to concentrate on the challenge and for a moment they struggled. Bernd managed to wrestle the ball away but for just a moment Bastian had the chance to slide in between his legs and kick it away, up a few feet where Andi was now waiting, seeing the same opportunity Bastian was looking at. So he shot his leg out, aiming for the ball that was sitting beside Bernd’s right foot.
Unfortunately for him Bernd picked that moment to pass it off and the ball was gone before Bastian had a chance to hit it. Instead, he ended up hitting the other man; Bastian’s right foot meeting Bernd’s left. It left the Leverkusen captain hopping for a moment, before gingerly putting the foot down and trying to work out the little spasm of pain he’d felt at the contact.
Bastian felt bad about it. Maybe he should have anticipated Bernd releasing the ball a bit more and he should have controlled his own foot better. But once again he’d been just slightly distracted and thinking only about hitting the ball and not about also preparing to stop the kick if the ball was cleared away first. And unfortunately for him, it looked like he wouldn’t be getting off easy for it.
The official jogged over, reaching immediately for his front pocket where the cards were kept. Bastian’s eyes widened in shock when the yellow one was pulled out. Surely it hadn’t been that bad to actually merit a card? It should have only been a warning, if anything. There was no malice behind it, wasn’t it clear that he’d been going for the ball? Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Before he even had a chance to approach the official and say anything Mark was already there, pleading his case. The official wasn’t having any of it though and warned the Dutch midfielder to back off or risk getting one himself. So Mark held his hands up and backed away, turning to look at Bastian and shaking his head. He didn’t have to say anything; Bastian could see by the look in Mark’s eyes that he thought the official was reacting too strongly. That made him feel a little better.
He also felt better about it when Bernd patted him on the shoulder and told him not to worry about it, he knew that Bastian had only been going for the ball and hadn’t meant it. He did feel a little better, but it didn’t take away from the churning sense of dread now in the pit of his stomach. Whether from a too-strong reaction of the official or not, he’d earned himself a yellow card by not paying attention and focusing solely on the game. He couldn’t afford to make that same mistake again.
So he tried to put the card out of his mind, although that was hard because he was now feeling angry that he’d gotten it. He’d been too shocked at the time he’d seen it to feel the anger, but now it was starting to rise. Already in the game other much worse tackles had occurred, and they’d been just as late as his, yet there hadn’t been a card for them. There was always one example though, after the official had granted one too many warnings, and this time it was Bastian. He just hoped now that Magath wouldn’t berate him for it later. That was the last thing he needed.
Play resumed and soon Bastian had managed to get lost in the game again. His anger over the card had allowed him to push Lukas out of his head finally, and once he was running around again even the anger over his yellow card had subsided. Now he was back down at his own end of the field, his arm resting on the right goalpost, his eyes briefly glancing over at Philipp who was at the left, before looking out in front of him and seeing Kahn, waving his arms and finishing up with his instructions to the other guys in front. Leverkusen was taking a corner.
This time Bastian didn’t let himself get distracted like he had earlier. This time he kept his eyes on the shifting players, making himself name each Leverkusen player in front of the net, calling to mind who liked to take headers and who liked to shoot with which foot. He had to keep his head on the game this time. Finally the corner shot was taken by Bernd and Bastian watched the ball come sailing in, a perfect delivery, and he watched and anticipated as he saw it head right for Stefan Kiessling’s head. A quick look to the left though and he saw that Kahn was right there, waiting for the header, judging in a split second at what angle the young striker would hit it and waiting right there. Bastian made sure there was no way the ball would get in the net if the keeper managed to miss it. Luckily though the Bayern captain had judged correctly and he’d easily caught the header, screaming at his team to move forward. Bastian didn’t think twice and ran, as quick as he could, up and away from the goal, back toward the middle of the field. A quick look back showed that Kahn had delivered the ball to Philipp, who was taking it up on the left side as usual; protecting it from Tranquillo Barnetta’s wandering feet before shooting it up to Andi.
Andi didn’t take long with the ball, passing it in to Willy, who in turn passed it on to Mark, who passed it up to Roy. The striker headed it over to Pizarro, who touched it twice before sending it hurtling past keeper Butt’s lunging form. Score one for Bayern. They converged on Pizarro, Mark reaching him first before they were joined by Andi and Roy, and soon Bastian was there too, slinging an arm around Andi’s back and one across Roy’s. They’d needed this goal.
But there was still another ten minutes left in the half, so they quickly got back into position, awaiting Butt’s goal kick down field. The goal was enough to keep Bastian’s head on the game for now as he closed in on Barnetta, managing to intercept the weak pass the Swiss midfielder was aiming to Paul Freier. Once he’d gotten possession of the ball Bastian turned, looking briefly up the field and spotting Mark. He passed up to the Dutchman, quickly minimizing the distance between them and receiving the pass back as Mark got swamped by two Leverkusen players. Bastian was close enough now for a shot and he took one. Now that he was focused it went perfectly toward the net, barely stopped by Butt, weakly punched away. But Roy was right there to take the rebound and just as his foot was about to make contact, the side official ruled the Dutchman to be offside.
The offside rule was always a frustrating one, especially for the player who wasn’t even directly involved in it. If Roy had managed to score on that, it would have made Bastian very happy. It was always nice to be involved in a goal in some way, even if it was simply one of your team mates scoring a rebound on your deflected shot. If you hadn’t taken that shot in the first place, the ball never would have been up there for them to pounce on.
The whistle was blown for half-time after only one extra minute had been added and Bastian followed his team mates down for the half-game chat. After the past ten minutes he’d been firmly in the game, thoughts about Lukas, Daniela, or his yellow card anywhere but on the forefront of his thoughts. But now that things had slowed down and he wasn’t running around anymore, they were starting to creep up again. The first one to make a re-appearance was the issue of the yellow card. Was Magath going to say anything about it? He’d just given Bastian one of those looks, the kind he gave when he was unhappy. Was a comment following?
He followed the others into the changing room, taking a bottle of water and sitting down. He couldn’t help but feel just a little more tired than usual after playing only the first half. But when he thought about it, he wasn’t only running around after the ball out there, he was also running away from his problems, running to keep them out of his head. So in a sense he was working twice as hard because as long as he was focused on the game, he wouldn’t start thinking about anything else. Those other things were too painful to think about, too distracting. But now that he’d stopped and was sitting, they were back.
It was hard not to think about them, really. He couldn’t help but think about these moments back before Lukas had been injured. They’d be sitting on opposite sides of the room, pretending to listen avidly to Magath’s half-time speech but in reality they’d be making faces at each other. Unless the game was going really poorly and Magath was really angry; they’d be paying attention then. But they’d still look across at each other and be unable to avoid a smile. No matter how much angry yelling the coach had for them, it was okay as long as they could look across the room at each other. And when Magath was done with the speech? One of them would get up and wander over to the other. Usually it was Bastian who walked over to Lukas, who sat in between Roy and Pizarro. They’d tease each other about something or other that had happened during the match, and if nothing worth teasing over had happened, they’d bring up something from the last time they’d been together.
There was no Lukas here now for Bastian to laugh with, to make a funny face at, or just to lock gazes with and smile. He felt his breath catch in his throat when he thought that in the future, Lukas might be back, but that they might not share that same togetherness anymore in the midst of games. They might come down here, sit apart from each other, and ignore one another. Rather it would be Lukas ignoring him, while Bastian would probably stare at him and wish for some kind of acknowledgment. There was no way he’d ever be able to ignore Lukas.
If things went bad between them, it would all be Lukas’ choice. Even if he decided that he didn’t love Bastian back, he knew that he would still want to be as close to Lukas possible. If Lukas didn’t push him away like Bastian feared he would, then maybe things wouldn’t change too much between them. Maybe they’d still be able to be their normal selves and maybe over time Bastian’s feelings would subside. But there was no way he would ever be able to stay away from Lukas; that much he knew. Not only was Lukas too important to him, but the act of simply being near him, touching him and teasing him, that was also too important to Bastian. He could never willingly give it up.
Once everyone was in and seated and the door was closed behind them, Magath gave his speech. He congratulated them on being the better team in the first half, on their superior passes and ability to recover possession quickly. He did mention that there had been a few moments of not so glorious actions, pointedly looking at Bastian, though he also turned his unhappy gaze on Willy, who’d narrowly escaped receiving a card himself for a late tackle on Kiessling. But overall, Magath was pleased with their performance and warned them not to get complacent with one goal. He wanted at least two more.
They were able to relax for a few minutes and Bastian was so surprised that Magath hadn’t singled him out more. Maybe he’d do it later, when they were alone? Did he just not see the point in doing it in front of everyone? It didn’t really matter anyway, he supposed. He still had that stupid card even though he shouldn’t. That official was an idiot. Without even giving it a second thought he’d immediately imagined the conversation with Lukas he’d have after the match about the official. It hurt to think about that. Even with everything that was going on, when something worthy of discussion happened he was still thinking of discussing it with Lukas, almost as though in the back of his mind there was a part of him that was just stubbornly refusing to recognize that he’d screwed things up between them. There would be no discussing the official’s stupid booking decision this time because he’d driven Lukas away. He’d made him leave.
And it was worse because now he didn’t even have Dani to discuss it with either! He didn’t have anyone except the guys sitting around him, and though he liked them all well enough, he didn’t really want to talk to any of them at the moment. None of them could replace what he’d lost.
It was time to head back up and he followed the guys up, still not talking to anyone. He was walking behind Andi and Philipp, who were talking. Usually he would be talking with them, if Lukas wasn’t around. But when Lukas had been around, they’d always returned from half-time discussion together, walking side by side and talking. He missed that. Right now, especially, he missed it a lot. He’d miss it even more in the future if Lukas came back and decided that he wanted nothing to do with him. What would it be like, walking out after half-time, watching as Lukas walked out and talked with someone else? It would hurt. There had been times when Lukas had foregone his company back on to the pitch for Roy’s or Pizarro’s, but that had never stung as much because he’d known that they had always been discussing things relating to the game. And Lukas had always looked back at him every time, a smile on his face before they walked out onto the pitch. There was always that bit of acknowledgment between them and if Lukas ever took it away, if he ever refrained from giving it to Bastian, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it. Who would he have then? Sure, he was friends with everyone else on the team for the most part. He was close with Andi and Philipp, but when it came to the four of them, it had always been Andi and Philipp, and he and Lukas. He liked the other two a lot, but they weren’t Lukas.
So for the second time today Bastian stood on the pitch, feeling distracted and unsure of the future. He knew he had to get back into the game but it was so hard when these feelings were clouding his mind. He just wanted this game to be done and over with so he could focus on his distracting thoughts. Not that he particularly wanted to think about life without Lukas, but it was so distracting that he knew he couldn’t focus on anything else. Maybe if he exhausted himself thinking about every possible bad way that this could turn out, eventually his mind would just stop getting distracted with new ways that things could go wrong for him.
The second half of the match played out very similarly to the first, even down to Bastian missing another two set pieces. One was another free kick, while the other was a corner. In both instances he overshot his target. By the time he’d missed the corner, frustration over his inability to concentrate after a momentary break in action was welling up in his head. Why was he having such a hard time? He’d ruined three perfect opportunities for goals in this game alone. There was no way Magath would keep his mouth shut about this.
It’s not that he was playing poorly. He was still managing well when he was running around on the field, opposing players putting pressure on him to perform. He just wasn’t playing up to standard. He was distracted and it was so easy to see that. Try as he might to concentrate, his frustration at not being able to concentrate was causing him to slip up. He made a few sloppy passes; he lost possession off of passes made to him; and now he just wasn’t paying attention to the field, he wasn’t seeing the plays that he should be making. It was getting so bad now that after one particularly weak pass intended for Roy, the Dutch striker approached him while the match was stopped for an injury to Leverkusen’s side. Roy asked him if he was alright, noting that he wasn’t playing at his standard, that he just wasn’t making his shots. It was so hard for Bastian to try and answer, to shrug his shoulders and just say that he was having an off day. Roy was good about these things though, and just squeezed his shoulder and told him to keep trying, despite his current struggles. Bastian knew he had to be playing pretty poorly though if Roy had actually asked him about it.
Twenty minutes had now passed into the second half and Bastian was feeling exhausted. It was rough enough to keep up the necessary energy to run all over the pitch for ninety minutes on a good day, but when your mind was plagued with worries it became even harder. He was drained, both physically and mentally. He was still trying though; he still managed to get off a good shot here and there. He’d gotten a shot on net moments earlier, but it had been barely wide. Those were always frustrating to watch.
Five minutes later and there was another lull, in which the official was awarding a yellow card to Barnetta for a late tackle on Philipp. Bastian was feeling a little nervous though and it had nothing to do with what was going on in regards to Barnetta. A glance at the sidelines had shown him Ali Karimi standing near the official, Magath standing on the midfielder’s other side. Someone was getting subbed off and he was pretty certain it was going to be him. He wasn’t playing to his standard and he knew Magath had to be burning about it.
So it wasn’t with a great deal of surprise when he saw confirmation that Karimi was coming on for him. On one hand, he was happy that the game was finally over for him. He knew he was too distracted to be playing. But then on the other hand he hated ever being subbed out. He hated the thought that he’d allowed himself to play poorly enough to be unable to finish the match. There was no reason for him to have played so poorly today; he should have been able to put everything behind him and focus on what needed to be done. But he hadn’t been able to and now he was paying the price. He walked off the pitch, over to the sidelines where Karimi was waiting. Their hands touched briefly and Bastian managed to wish him luck before Karimi ran off, obviously excited to be going on.
He didn’t look at Magath as he walked to the bench, certain the coach had nothing but harsh words for him. He was relieved when Magath went back to his seat, not saying anything yet. He knew the reprimand would be coming at some point, but he was happy enough to avoid it for now. He sat down quickly, busying himself with the task of removing his shin guards, wanting to avoid conversation with anyone else. His team mates left him alone, eyes glued to the match, waiting and hoping for that next Bayern goal to secure the victory a little better.
He wanted to pay attention to the remainder of the game, really he did. He felt bad enough about being taken off that the least he could do was pay attention until the end. But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. He just kept thinking about that empty seat somewhere above him, wondering if Daniela was even watching the match on TV perhaps, or if she wasn’t paying attention at all. Was any reminder of him right now too much for her? She was stuck in an apartment full of reminders, though.
He suddenly wondered if she’d told anyone. Who would she tell, though? He knew she wasn’t the type to tell anyone anything until it was a proven fact that she knew for certain. But this was so personal, what if she’d blurted it out to someone? Lena, maybe? That would explain the other girl’s absence, at least. The three girls were usually always at the game together, unless one of them had somewhere else to be. He hoped Anna didn’t know. He was certain of Lena’s levelheadedness, but Anna was another case entirely. What if she’d told her parents? Obviously she wouldn’t tell them the whole reason, but what if she’d told them things between them were rocky? What if she wasn’t here right now because she was with them? What if he really had driven the both of them, her and Lukas, completely away from him? He wouldn’t blame them. He wasn’t sure he’d want his own company after what he’d done.
He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that Bayern had scored again until the sudden movement next to him jostled him back to the present time. The guys up and down the bench were celebrating and Bastian felt horrible. He didn’t even deserve to be sitting out here right now. If he couldn’t let go of his problems for a few hours and give all of his attention to this club, then what was the point of his being here? He felt like he betraying all of his team mates sitting on the bench right now. He was certain that every single one of them would focus completely on the match if they had the chance to be out there playing. They were so focused on things now, simply sitting on the bench.
He was being selfish right now, he knew it. He should be putting his problems aside and thinking about the club, but he couldn’t. Not even a minute after finding out his side had scored again and his thoughts were already trying to go back to where they’d been before the interruption. He didn’t even know who’d scored.
He battled with himself during the remainder of the match, trying to watch, trying to pay attention. He’d be focused for a minute but then something would happen and suddenly he’d be thinking about his problems again; suddenly he’d be looking ahead but not really seeing what was in front of him, his eyes unfocused and his mind running rampant. There was no shaking it.
Finally the match ended, 2-0 for the Bavarian side. Not the 3-0 Magath had demanded, but at least they hadn’t conceded any goals. Bastian made himself get up and go out to celebrate with the others, but he was only going through the motions and not really living them. He didn’t want to be out here. He didn’t feel like he’d contributed enough today to deserve to celebrate. He just wanted to head down, take a shower and prepare himself for whatever Magath would have to say to him, and then leave.
Maybe he’d call Dani tonight. As hard as it would be on him to talk to her, he needed to talk to someone who knew. That and he simply missed her. He’d missed seeing her smile in the stands, cheering him on. He missed not having her there to take care of all the things he was too lazy to do. Just as the old adage says, you really don’t give much thought to what you have until you lose it. He’d always loved her and appreciated her, but he’d never really realized just how much she’d done for him while they were together. Not just in a physical sense either, but just her presence alone, just being there. Now that she wasn’t there anymore, he was really feeling it. He missed her.
Finally they were able to head down, stripping out of their kit and preparing for the showers while Magath gave a post-game speech. He was unhappy that they’d only managed one more goal, but he was still pleased that the defense had stood up and they hadn’t conceded any goals themselves. He was happy enough that he upheld the decision to not train tomorrow, giving them a day off. This made everyone happy and soon enough they were hitting the showers.
Bastian took his time, letting the warm water run over him, bracing himself against the wall with his eyes closed. Maybe if he took long enough everyone would be gone and he could escape more easily. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone. He’d been waiting all day for someone to ask him where Lukas was, why he wasn’t here at the match. He’d been to the last two, after all. But luckily no one had asked yet.
He turned off the water when he finally couldn’t stay in the shower any longer, grabbing his towel and starting to dry off. He made his way back out and noticed that a few of the guys had left, and a few were almost ready to leave, standing around and chatting before heading out. He sat down and started to get dressed, trying to keep out of conversations and finish getting ready so he could leave. Was Magath still around? Was he maybe going to wait to say anything until training on Monday? Fear of being reprimanded for his yellow card was still gnawing at Bastian. Maybe not fear so much as anxiety and nerves. It wasn’t even so much the reprimanding itself as the timing. He’d been doing so well lately, and today was putting his current good standings with Magath in jeopardy.
When he was finally finished he stood up, waving to the remaining few and saying goodbye. He quickly made for the arena exit, walking down the halls and hoping that no one would stop him. When he got to the exit though, there was Magath, talking to a few people Bastian thought looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them. The coach seemed to be jovial enough, which was a good sign. But he quickly noticed Bastian and bid the men goodbye, waiting for his young star to approach. The last thing he wanted right now was to have this conversation. He knew Magath was going to come down hard on him for his performance during the game. He just hoped he’d be able to keep his cool.
“I won’t take too much of your time.” They were standing very close now, Bastian forcing himself to meet his coach’s gaze. “Now I don’t know what your problem was today, but you obviously weren’t completely in the game. I suggest you rectify whatever it is that was distracting you out there before Monday, because I do not want to see that from you again.” Bastian was a little surprised at the words as they were slightly less venomous than he’d expected, and especially surprised that the look on Magath’s face wasn’t an angry glare. “You are better than what you showed today, Bastian. Much better. I expect to see that next week.” With that said the coach nodded to the doors, as though he were telling the young man that he was dismissed. Bastian just nodded and left, shocked that the conversation had been better than he’d anticipated. Did that mean that Magath thought his yellow card had been undeserved? Had he played so well at certain points that it made up for his shitty play during other moments? He wasn’t sure what the reason was for Magath to react in a much nicer manner, but he wasn’t about to stand around debating it. He had more important things to attend to.