[Football] Eighteen Years of Feeding Off Perfect Passes

Anthony had a secret: his mother was a Dortmund fan.

On the eve of joining the national team training camp, Anthony finally received a summons from his mother, whom he hadn’t seen in years. But on the way to find her, he ran into trouble. Just as he thought he was about to kick the bucket, he opened his eyes to see not the stars twinkling above the United States, but the moon over Westfalen

the big, round one

...and his mother’s face looming over him.

Strictly speaking, it was the younger version of her, young enough to make him wonder if his dad had been into underage girls back in the day. When his mother saw Anthony open his eyes, she set aside her worry and smiled so broadly that her face crinkled. Only then was Anthony sure his dad hadn’t been into underage girls, unless his beautiful mother, whom he’d only seen in the media since, was just like his Uncle Erling and never aged.

Anthony cleared his throat and called out a thunderous “Mum,” shaking North Rhine-Westphalia and making Reus tremble in his boots.

Anyway, after his mother’s loud exclamations and a whirlwind of explanations, Favre came hurrying over and was rewarded with a hearty “Grandpa” from Anthony (strike that).

Favre: You broke into the training ground at night, kid. What were you after, a football?

Anthony: Ah, sounds like something Foden and Palmer would do...

Favre: Where are you from, then? England? Russia?

Anthony: (Raises a finger) No, I’m a genuine German from La Masia, with Bavarian genes flowing through my veins... (points at his eyes and hair) Look how much I resemble my mother.

Wait, that explanation only made things more confusing!

Anyway, under everyone’s peculiar stares, Anthony let out a piercing shriek: “What do you mean Germany finished bottom of its group in the 2018 World Cup, ”

“It’s perfectly normal to have a hard time accepting it...”

“I’m in 2018!!! I refuse to accept this!! Let me go, I still have to play in the 2026 World Cup!”

Just before they could haul him off to a psychiatric hospital, Anthony suddenly figured it out. He had four years to prepare, starting now, and save the rice cooker from disaster.

If an eighteen-year-old striker is too green, then a twenty-two-year-old striker is just right. A twenty-six-year-old striker is practically a senior by comparison, and a thirty-year-old striker, guess who you want: Harry Kane.

What else could he do? Was he supposed to carry Poland on his own? Come on, don’t expect a kid who’s only just come of age, and might have kicked the bucket before even making the national team, to do what even his dad couldn’t.

If you’re talking about Norway, they’ve got Uncle Odegaard and Uncle Sorloth

As if the rice cooker were any better. Hard to say, but Anthony had complete confidence in his uncles. They’d just had terrible luck. Their big striker was here!

Besides...

With a contract on the table and Reus still in his prime, Anthony found it hard to leave.

It wasn’t like he was Lewandowski’s biological son.

!

A caffeine-fueled fic born from laughing at the DFB and seeing the old uncles off to MLS.

A wish-fulfillment piece where I give little Germany a big striker and help revive our rice cooker (not really).

I love the footballing family tree, but Sasha still couldn’t satisfy my fantasies about German strikers, so I wrote this.

Since I ship Mpreg, here DFS’s son is a child adopted together in a parallel world. He only looks like the other guy because they’re both very typical Germans.

A lighthearted football comedy. Don’t take it seriously.

Theme: If even Klopp can’t save the DFB, then maybe there really is no hope...