The Condemned Club

[HorusFM]

This is a new story based on the former C.O.V.A.M side in mark wilson27's 'In a Welsh League of Our Own' story. Its a work in progress, but quite a bit has been written up in advance in case of any writers block. This will probably replace my Vercelli story as it is the only save game I didn't keep from my laptop after its demise. Should it crop up somewhere else on my PC, then it should resume. The title is a latin conversion of "The Condemned Club". Thanks for looking in

******

Chapter 1

Sunday 6th May 2006: Arturo Collana, San Guiseppe Vesuviano, Italy

Lega Calcio Serie C2 Relegation Playoff – Neapolis (15th place) vs. Lumezzane (14th place)

Daniele Sciuto was tired. It had been an awfully long season, and he felt his job was already slipping from his hands just a year since he took it. With his side fighting for survival with one match to go, all fingers pointed at him. Survive or fall, he knew he was going to be looking for a new job in the summer. His side weren’t even performing on this, the final day. Admittedly, they were away, but it was no excuse to see a side so close to the trap door playing with such complacency.

“Come on! If you don’t put the effort in, you all deserve to go down!” Daniele screamed from the sidelines, hoping that it would affect someone in some way. It didn’t, and for the next twenty minutes, they were pushed further and further back by Neapolis. Daniele realised getting angry at half time would merit nothing in response. He had already lost the dressing room. Few managers ever come back when that occurs. “Come on! Today it’s just us and them! We can’t be relying on no-one else!”

Daniele was right. There was only one relegation spot left, and these two sides were fighting in the relegation playoff for it. Neapolis had finished the season a point below Lumezzane, but surprisingly had the better recent form of the two. A draw would be enough after the first leg score of 1-0, but at this rate, Lumezzane weren’t even playing for that. No win in six (except the first leg win) had seen them tumble into this horrible mess. Relegation was simply not an option for the Lumezzane fans and board. Serie D was not somewhere this side belonged, and with pre-season goals of promotion, the club had moved in the wrong direction. Relegation would cripple the club financially and the board had recognised this with a threat to pull out, and Daniele didn’t want that on his conscious. “Pull your fingers out! Omar, you need to try and centre some balls for Bertani and Faschi otherwise they will get forced out of the game!” The Mexican midfielder simply threw Daniele a look of contempt as if to say ‘That’s what I am doing’.

The half time was a welcoming thing for Sciuto’s side, giving much needed thinking time for Daniele himself. The players slowly trudged towards the tunnel at Arturo Collana, the travelling away fans jeering the manager they deemed useless as he headed down last.

“We really need to make improvements out there if we are to stay up. Neapolis are all over us.” remarked Daniele, looking mainly at Bertani and Castillo, who had been poor in the centre of midfield all season long, let alone just today.

“Why you looking at me? It isn’t my fault that these fools on the wing couldn’t make a run even if their lives depended on it.” muttered Castillo. Daniele sighed. No-one was listening. Was there even a point in him being here? Time for anger.

“You lot are absolutely useless!” he yelled, “All season you have been utter crap. The board hate me. You hate me. The fans hate me. So how about doing me a damned favour and stopping this damned moaning? Get out there and play some god damn football. You might not like me and I’ll sure as hell be gone by tomorrow, but these fans look up to you, so show them respect and try, at least, to save their football club. If Neapolis get a sniff of us being disjointed, they will make us pay.”

Everyone looked at Daniele, but none uttered a word. The next forty five minutes would determine the future of Lumezzane football club.

[Offspring8]

That's the way to do it, get angry Better hope the next 45 minutes are good eh! Lookin forward to the next update Gav, looks like it's gunna be another good story from the guy

[mark wilson27]

Looking forward to reading more Gav

[HorusFM]

Thanks very much Offspring and mark. This is certainly something of a challenge for me.

*****

As the players returned for the second half, Neapolis still looked sharper. They had been out five minutes more than Lumezzane, and this in itself seemed to give them a sense of hope. They looked fired up, while Sciuto’s side looked tired and weary. The referee blew his whistle, and the game began once more.

Aged veteran Sarnataro had broken past Lumezzane full back Faccioli on six separate occasions in the first half, but Daniele had no replacement for him. Sarnataro was loving it. He skipped past him again after a swift one-two with Serbian-born Vuletic and broke away with ease. He reached the edge of the penalty area and centred the ball excellently for the onrushing Graziano. He met the ball head on and powered an excellent header goal wards. Pagnani in goal had, however, made his decision far too early. He had already come to meet Graziano in the hope that he would be using his feet, but the cross had fooled him. The ball flew towards him at great speed from the header, and his reaction time was too slow. He flapped aimlessly in the hope of diverting it at least temporarily, but he just caught fresh air. The ball fizzed past him and into the goal. Graziano wheeled away in delight towards the home section, while Pagnani just lay on the floor, arms stretched out. Graziano’s goal had put the game in Neapolis’ favour. With them being at home, it would be easier for them to push Lumezzane back for a second and a decisive winner. In the true sense of the word, it would be next goal winner. Daniele had sunk into his seat. Win or lose, he wasn’t going to be in charge next season. “Don’t sink guys!” he shouted from the sideline, “Get a goal now and we will be staying up!” Words he knew that would fall on deaf ears.

The game continued to run in Neapolis’ favour, Sarnataro running riot for the home side. Daniele had tried to prevent him from causing so much damage, but it had little effect. The veteran winger was retiring at the end of the season, and looked to be going out with a bang. And as surely said, he scored twenty minutes after Graziano had. The midfielder’s partner Gonzalez had won a freekick on the edge of the area and Sarnataro assuredly took the ball from the tiny Uruguayan. He teed it up, and Pagnani never looked comfortable. His early error in judgement had knocked him in confidence, and this was the wrong time to be facing a freekick. “Pagnani, stay assured over there!” yelled Daniele, “Its training ground stuff; you can handle it easy!” But as soon as the words left his mouth, the ball floated over the top of the wall. Pagnani padded his way across his line but he was too slow to stop the delightful freekick bending in to his top corner. He landed with a thud to the sound of a thousand Neapolis fans cheering at the top of their lungs. Lumezzane were two goals down now and staring the trap door in the face. Daniele had run out of ideas.

The clock was ticking down quickly for the Lumezzane fans, but all too slowly for the Neapolis fans. Daniele had not moved for ten minutes, sitting just to watch as his side looked all too happy to be relegated. As the clock hit 89 minutes, Daniele gave his last roll of the dice. Gianluca Basso stands on the sideline as he waits for Faschi to come off. The striker had three goals this season, and a fourth would be worth a hell of a lot right now. Basso had only been on for two minutes when the heavens opened and threw Daniele and Lumezzane a lifeline. Basso had broken into the box and crossed for Castillo, who jumped for the header before being dragged down by defender Albano. The referee reluctantly pointed to the spot, and the Lumezzane fans all cheered. The business still had to be done, and Basso stepped up to take it. This would be the last kick of the game. Daniele crossed his fingers and prayed to God that Basso could hold his nerve and tuck this away. Funny how a season of a million and more kicks of a ball now boils down to this one solitary kick. Basso takes a deep breath and runs up. He makes good contact with the ball, but Daniele can’t look. It feels like an eternity for the ball to move, but it does. A couple of hundred collective breaths all come out at once as the ball thunders off the crossbar and out for a goalkick. Basso doesn’t move. None of the players do. The referee blows the whistle.

Lumezzane are relegated, and there isn’t a thing anyone can do.

Sangiuseppese Neapolis 2 (Graziano 47, Sarnataro 67)

Lumezzane 0

[HorusFM]

Disappointment is hard to express. A sad face or a silence usually sums it up well enough. But for the Lumezzane fans, disappointment went hand in hand with anger. The few stewards present hadn’t anticipated what could turn into a riot. Daniele was stood on the pitch worthlessly shaking the hands of the few players who would recognise even his presence. The away travelling fans had forced their way onto the pitch in an attempt to confront the players, but more importantly the manager who had led their team to such demise. A short stocky man approached Daniele through a throng of people and stopped dead in front of the Lumezzane manager. “You destroyed our team! Our beloved team!” Daniele didn’t know where to put him self. His players just looked on and ignored the event as they consoled the fans and vice versa.

Daniele felt severely alienated now. He turned to head out of the stadium. His time with Lumezzane, he knew inside, was done. As he walked away, the fan who had confronted him seconds earlier threw something that hit Daniele in the back. It didn’t hurt him, he just felt it. It was a Lumezzane scarf all bundled up. Daniele turned and picked it up. He unravelled it and only began to fully realise what had just happened in the match just gone. Lumezzane were truly in trouble now. Daniele left the stadium to a chorus of boos.

As he got into his car, Daniele felt the weight of the last year on his shoulders. As he put the key into the ignition, he noticed a group of fans heading towards his car with weapons in hand. Most had glass bottles and four by four planks of wood, but one was wielding a handgun. Daniele had never felt fear quite like this before. The fans were blocking the road now, and he had no desire to run them all down. His car probably wouldn’t make it through them anyway. The few seconds he spent thinking up a plan resulted in making the situation worse. The fans had charged towards the car and were surrounding it. Daniele began to shout, “Please, just leave me be! I’m leaving, look!” But his words had no effect. As with his team talk earlier, both were similarly alike.

Daniele snapped out of his trance of fear when the four by fours began to pound against the chassis of the car. Daniele had no idea what to do. The temptation to rev the car felt stupid to him. They wouldn’t be scared by it at all, and would probably make it even worse. The sound of glass breaking made Daniele wheel round. He saw a man smiling viciously through the shattered window and saw the brick lying on his back seat. The crowd began to smash every window on the car, and Daniele was showered in glass shards. It felt like a million tiny scratches all being inflicted at once. “Please! Don’t hurt me!” he yelled from the cover of his arms, but no-one was listening.

A fan smashed Daniele’s driver’s window and pushed his hand through, unlocking the door from the inside. Daniele heard the door yank open and fought off the man who was trying to pull him out. But he had nowhere near the same strength, and within seconds found himself landing on the gravel floor with a thud.

The real pain began now. Planks of wood thumped and thumped and thumped against his body, the pain searing up every muscle he had. A crack to the head from a glass bottle took the pain from his back and legs away, but only for a split second. His head was bleeding now, and he could feel it trickle down his ear and neck. Daniele risked opening his eye for a split second, and saw the man with the gun. He wasn’t sure if the rest of the attackers realised he had a firearm, but he wasn’t about to discuss it with them. He tried to stand up, but was beaten back down.

He lay down and continued to take the beating he was being given. Images began to flash before his eyes. He saw his wife, his children and the rest of his own family talking and having a good time. Past events of his life also flashed by; him getting various football management jobs, his wedding, the birth of his first born, his parents' 50th wedding anniversary. He opened his eyes once more though now it was getting harder. He was shocked how the people so happy at his appointment a year ago were now all over his back, beating the hell out of him. They were laughing at what they were doing as if it was only some kind of joke that Daniele would get over by the end of it. He saw the man with the gun come closer and he closed his eyes.

A gunshot rang out.

[mark wilson27]

The suspense Gav.. come on Gav I want more

[HorusFM]

Thanks Mark.

*****

Il Calcio Italiano Informatore

The Demise of Italian Football by Alessandro Gazzi

The Italian footballing world was left shocked yesterday as news broke that former Lumezzane manager Daniele Sciuto had been killed by rioting fans at Arturo Collana stadium. As the FA comes up with a plan to deal with the fans responsible and the club itself, Sciuto’s family must now pick up the pieces of their lives from the train wreck that is Italian football. As an Italian myself, and a firm football fan, the recent years has come to show me that we are in a downward spiral.

The match fixing scandal of late implicated many of the bigger sides in Italy with those including Juventus, Milan, Lazio and Fiorentina. The scandal tore down the respect people had for Italian football and even the sport in general. As a country we now have to rally behind our nation in the World Cup as they seek to make amends for the mess they’re bosses have created.

But now in light of Sciuto’s murder, we are left wondering once more what state our sport is in. Violence is destroying our game, and we look on in helpless wonder. What can we do? We go to the games in our millions and support our teams through thick and thin, yet we are all punished when they make silly mistakes. The fans responsible for the death of one of footballs family have been arrested, and the board have subsequently put the club up for sale. But a new question begs now; who is going to want to buy a club with such a reputation?

Italian investors will avoid the club like the plague and foreign investors will never take the gamble on a club with such a violent set of fans. This situation has now left the club in a maelstrom of trouble. The board have, in desperation, sold all assets belonging to Lumezzane in an attempt to at least recoup some of the cash they put in. The training ground has been sold off and at current the stadium is up for sale. Players are leaving by the boat load and there are, at current, no backroom staff.

The prospect of being bought is now a far and distant dream for the Lumezzane board, and you can pretty much expect to see the club vanish pretty soon. It will be a sorry sight for Italian football, but one that, at this stage, cannot be prevented. In addition to this, the Federazione Italiana Giuoco Calcio (FIGC) now has another issue arising on top of everything they currently have to deal with.

Lega Calcio Serie C2/A side Mezzocorona have pulled out of the league citing financial difficulties and the inability to keep their heads above the metaphorical water. This, is turn, means Lumezzane are back in the league they were relegated from only a few days ago. This now presents a massive problem to FIGC. With Lumezzane in troubled times, they in turn could also vanish from the league system. At the current rate, that would mean that Serie D side Aversa Normanna would get to take the place currently vacated by Mezzocorona and possibly Lumezzane.

So how can this situation be resolved? Well, in my eyes, if a buyer purchases Lumezzane then the situation regarding the league is semi-solved already. But with Lumezzane would come its reputation, and this in itself would present a whole new issue. The prospect of a point’s deduction cannot be ignored, and in theory it should be a pretty hefty one, no matter which league they play in next season.

Once again, this whole situation just goes to highlight the mess that is Italian football. Can it be fixed? Only by an act of divine intervention from God. Italian football is a laughing stock and changes need making. Maybe one will come in the form of the World Cup.

But who knows; maybe they will just accuse us of match fixing.

[HorusFM]

Lumezzane's Stadium

2 Days after Sciuto's Murder

Salvatore Senatore stood in the centre of the pitch at Nuovo Stadio Comunale. His club had fallen apart. This was the last thing they had now. The board had sold off as much as possible including the players. The stadium was the last thing to go. A bidder had made themselves known, and Salvatore found himself waiting. Deep down he felt remorse for what had happened to the club, but even more so for the death of Daniele. Yeah, he had given the fans a miserable season and taken them down, but it was no reason to kill him. He thought of the family that Daniele had left behind and couldn’t help but want to blame himself. True, he hadn’t fired the trigger, but he employed Daniele and in a way should have fired him long before the final game of the season. But his faith in his manager had ended with his death, and that he couldn’t shake.

Salvatore had been so wound up in the moment that he hadn’t noticed his only remaining board member had come up beside him. Paulo Cerbone had been the general manager, and was Salvatore’s only friend on the board. “I hope you are not stood here blaming yourself, Salvatore.” The club was done, even Paulo knew it. Whilst they were still registered as a club and had a place in a league, investors were non coming and the time had come for the whole establishment.

“No, I am not. Just saddened it has ended like it has. A fine man lost his life because of me. That is guilt I could never shake off.”

Paulo put his arm around his friend and led him off the pitch. They went through the gates and locked them on their way out. They met with the new owner of the land in the small car park. “Mr Senatore, I am glad to meet you.” Salvatore shook the man’s hand.

“I am Cardinal Bishop Fabio Fioravanti. I have brought a cheque for the purchase of this land on behalf of His Holiness Pope Joseph Ratzinger.” Spoke the tall man dressed all in black. He handed the cheque across and was given a set of papers detailing the deeds of the land.

“What do you plan on doing with the land Father Fioravanti?” asked Salvatore.

The Cardinal smiled, “The reformation of the Catholic Church.”

Nuovo Stadio Comunale had seen its last game of football. Or at least that’s what everyone believed.

As Salvatore and Paulo left, a limousine pulled up and a second holy man joined Fioravanti. He was his senior – was it the Pope himself?

“You’re Holiness, welcome here.”

The man who replied had a thick German accent, “Thank you, Cardinal. So this is where it’s all going to happen?” he asked whilst staring down at the pitch in front of him. The grass had grown quite long now, and would certainly need cutting.

“Yes, you’re Holiness. It will certainly be a big gamble.”

His Holiness, followed by nine security guards, made his way to a seat in stand. “I want you to name the stadium Dio Giochi.” said the Holy man, whilst sitting down. “And the club itself will have to be called C.O.V.A.M. Cardinals of Venice and Milan.”

“It shall be done. Two questions though; Why C.O.V.A.M? And anything else, sir?”

“It is the same name as a previous venture we tried in Wales. And I want a season ticket.” He muttered before heading back to his limousine.

[HorusFM]

Chapter 2

“No, no my child. That is completely wrong.”

“Why is it, sir?” offered the small child sat in front of him.

“You do not see your mistake?”

“No sir.”

“I’ll point it out to you.” The cardinal said before picking up the child’s piece of paper again. “Here it is; ‘Mary became pregnant with Jesus after she stopped taking her morning after pills given to her by Prophet Muhammad.’ Please tell me you see the error?”

“No, sir.” Replied the child, still incredulous as to why the cardinal had picked up on this.

The cardinal sighed, “Fine, carry on as you were then.” He left the child and sat back at his desk at the front of the classroom. This was the class for Sunday school, but it was definitely not as popular as it used to be. As he sat, he surveyed the children in the room. None of this lot was even church goers. It was clearly a ploy by poor families to get rid of their children on a Sunday and have a day off for themselves. Sadly that left poor Cardinal Fabio Ortega to watch over them and teach them the ways of the Church. But Christianity wasn’t as influential as it had been in the past.

Fabio himself was a native Argentinean. He was born to a brick layer father and nurse mother in Buenos Aires, but they didn’t stay long. They moved to Italy when Fabio was just ten years old and settled in Lumezzane. From an early age he had enjoyed football but never took any interest he had any further. He had no desire to play, only to watch and admire. He joined the church when he turned eighteen, leaving his mother and father in Lumezzane as he went to Milan. He quickly surpassed his peers in his learning’s, and soon became a Cardinal in the main College. He was brought out of his memories by a knock on the door. He recognised the man instantly. Cardinal Fabio Fioravanti was standing outside, the customary smile on his face. Fabio instructed his assistant to keep the class occupied as he stepped outside to speak to the other Fabio.

“Father Fabio. A rare pleasure if I do say so myself.”

Fioravanti shook Ortega’s hand and motioned for him to follow down the corridor. “It’s been too long, old friend.”

“What brings you here? The illustrious scenery of Lumezzane?”

“Not quite, Cardinal. I just came to visit my former protégé.”

“Really? Well then I am honoured you did so. I can have Mrs Botticelli rustle up some tea if you like? She makes a mean Earl Grey.”

“That would be lovely. Firstly, I want to ask a question.”

“Go for it.”

“Did you ever keep up with coaching the Sunday school children in football?”

“What an odd question, Father. But yes, we do still practice. It is the only thing they still enjoy doing here.”

“That is excellent news. Now, where’s that cup of tea you offered?”

Ortega gave him a curious look before letting it slip. He rang the bell in his office to alert Mrs Botticelli. She appeared in less than ten seconds flat, tray of Earl Grey in hand. Mrs Botticelli herself was the typical definition of a war horse. The woman had been through three marriages and had brought up here children all on her own. They were now all in the army, leaving Mrs Botticelli alone once more. She laid the metal tray on the desk and took her leave from the office. Fioravanti took a cup and sipped it gently.

“Fabio, the Pope himself has ordered a special Christianity mission. The church is in rapid decline. Everything we preach is becoming old and outdated and people are backing away from the religion with every passing day.”

“I knew you were here for specific reason.” muttered Ortega.

“Be in Venice in two weeks, my friend. There is going to be a meeting and I think it best you be there.”

“And if I don’t?” poked Ortega.

“You’ll still be here for the next four thousand Sundays trying to tell children that the Bible isn’t science fiction and Mary wasn’t on the pill. I know where I would rather be.”

Ortega laughed, “Venice it is.”

He got up to show his friend out of the door before Fioravanti turned around. “Oh, and tell Mrs Botticelli her tea is excellent.”

Ortega smiled. “She won’t believe you, but thank you anyway.”

[copperhorse21]

Wow! Chapter One is riveting. I have thoroughly enjoyed the start of this story and feel that this is very good writing, indeed.

[HorusFM]

Thanks very much copperhorse. A very good writer yourself, its nice to hear such complimentary statements.

*****

Fabio sat in his office long after Fioravanti had left. He had contemplated calling Mrs Botticelli for some more Earl Grey, but he valued his ears as she would most definitely complain. His assistant, Guiseppe Fabri, was sat opposite him.

“Was I right in thinking I saw Father Fioravanti earlier?”

“You certainly did.”

“What made him pay a visit to this small church? It can’t have been a social visit, surely?”

“It could have been a social visit, actually. It does happen.”

“And was it?”

Ortega leaned back in his seat and muttered, “No.”

“As I thought.” replied Guiseppe, his face beaming with a cocky smile. “So, what did he want?”

“Something about a meeting in Venice next week. Don’t know if I will bother going.”

“Why ever not?”

“Believe it or not, I do actually quite like it here. I mean, ok, the job is only half decent at times, but at least I can be close with God.”

“True, but God will listen no matter where you are; you of all people should know that.”

Guiseppe was right. God would be with Fabio no matter where he went. But it wasn’t just God; it was his own personal comfort too. This was his town, and he felt happy here. He knew for a fact that whatever lay waiting in Venice, he surely wouldn’t be doing the same job when he came back. Or if he would come back at all.

“Let’s go for a walk, Guiseppe.”

His assistant nodded and they left the office. They walked past the classroom and outside to the fresh countryside. The wind was blowing gently and the kids were running around playing football. It was the only real reason they came to the Sunday school, Guiseppe and Fabio both knew that. Learning about the Bible and the characters in it was something they had just completely lost interest in. Kids would rather listen to heavy metal music, play sports and drink cider than go to Church. And could anyone blame them? Not really. The Church had been in steady decline for years and people were certain the slide couldn’t be halted. But according to Fioravanti, it seems they have found a way. Fabio was, at least, intrigued to hear of their new plan. But one thing that got to him was Fioravanti asking him if he still coached the youngsters in football.

“You look lost in thought, Fabio.”

“I’m wondering what God would advise me to do.”

“Fabio, we both know this job is going nowhere. The Church services receive little on twenty people each week and the children know absolutely nothing about Christianity. Last week I had a child ask me if Pontius Pilate flew planes.”

Fabio laughed. “I’ve heard funnier.”

The pair of them sat and watched as the kids played football. “Do you think any of these will ever play club football?” asked Guiseppe.

“Nah, not likely I don’t think. This reminds me, Guiseppe.”

“Reminds you of what?”

“Do you still remember how to play as a goalkeeper?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I think that may come in handy.”

“Why?”

“You’re coming to Venice with me, too.”

Guiseppe sat up. “Really? I have always wanted to go there. My parents could never afford it though.”

“Well now you can and are. It’s not for two weeks, so we do still have next week’s Sunday school to plough through.”

As if by fate, one of the little boys ran over to Fabio and tugged at his robe. “What’s wrong, child?”

“That boy over there said that Jesus used to drive a Chevrolet Camaro and he used it to drive Mary to Bethlehem.”

Fabio was astounded. “And why would Jesus be driving Mary to Bethlehem?”

“Because she was giving birth to the son of Christ, sir.”

“And what do you think?”

“I thought it was a Ford Focus.”

Fabio was speechless.

“On second thoughts, Guiseppe, how do you fancy an early holiday?”

[HorusFM]

It was time to travel to Venice. Guiseppe had not stopped going on about it since Fabio had asked him to come along. The nineteen year old took great pride in telling his parents he was finally making the trip to the great city, and they were extremely happy for him. Fabio had packed some things up for the journey and was in the process of counting money out of the donation fund. Typically priests aren’t paid a massive wage, if they are to receive a wage at all. Fabio’s wage is typically minimal, and Giuseppe’s is even less. Last month Fabio earned around €290 from the Church alone, Guiseppe earning a paltry €98. But they didn’t care. Guiseppe had a second job working as a mechanic and Fabio was currently a part time chef.

“Why are you counting out money from the donation fund?” asked Guiseppe.

“Fioravanti called ahead and said we use the money for our train tickets and the Church will compensate us with the money back later.”

“Sounds like a plan. When do we leave?”

“I think the taxi has just pulled up, so round about now.”

Guiseppe nodded and picked the holdall with the spare clothing in. Both men trotted outside and locked the front Church door and then the gate on the outside. No-one was inside, of course. Mrs Botticelli seemed thrilled to have gotten the next few days off, and when told of this, she said “Oh, thank you.” The woman never seemed happy, but her tea was excellent and it made her an irreplaceable member of staff.

Fabio and Guiseppe got into the taxi and were only driving for around five minutes. They drove past Guiseppe’s parents’ home, but they weren’t at home according to Guiseppe himself. They reached the train station and went to the booths for purchasing tickets. The man behind the counter looked less than impressed with his job.

“What can I do for you, father?”

“Two tickets to Venice, please.”

The cashier took his time processing the request, seemingly having some issues with his computer.

“Ok, that works out at €69 please.”

Fabio nodded and counted out the cash and handed it over. The cashier gave him his change and tickets, and with a smile that said ‘I have to do this, I’m paid to do so’, Fabio and Guiseppe waited for their train. They would have to go to Brescia first, and then catch a train straight to Venice, bypassing Verona on the way. It arrived after ten minutes and they boarded first in order to avoid the rush. They found their seats, and waited upon seeing who they would be seated with. To their sadness, it would have to be children. Two young boys sat across from him and Guiseppe. One of them was playing on a Gameboy while the other sat and watched, looking eager to have a turn himself.

“So what do you think this meeting is all about, in truth?” asked Guiseppe.

Fabio thought about it for a few seconds before replying. “I think that it is football related. When Fioravanti came to see me, he asked me if I still coached the youngsters to play football.”

“He could have just been interested in if you were still doing it.”

“Perhaps so, but the way he asked was what made it so peculiar. So I would bet my minimal wage that it is football related.”

“Maybe a stroke of genius, though.” offered Guiseppe.

“Why do you think so?”

“Well, think about it. What is the most loved sport on earth? It’s football, of course. So if they have found a way to improve the teaching of the Christian Church, maybe football will be an excellent way to get it out there. Think of all the people that will be at the matches and so on.”

“You make a valid point there, Seppe.”

The young man nodded, “Something like this would definitely need to be ratified by his Holiness the Pope, though.”

Fabio didn’t respond, just sat in thoughtful comprehension of what could possibly be going down. What Guiseppe had said sounded damn spot on and it would be unlikely he would be far from the truth. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the louder tones of the two boys sat in front of them.

“It’s my turn now!” yelled the boy who was yet to play on the Gameboy.

“No! I haven’t finished mine yet!”

“For God sake!” screamed the angry boy.

Fabio had heard enough, “Oi, you two. Why can’t you just play nicely and take turns? Is it so difficult to get along? And stop using the Lords name in vain!”

The two boys sat silent, just staring at Fabio. Guiseppe laughed and looked away.

“Shut it, priest man.” muttered the boy with the Gameboy, before both boys upped and left their seats.

“Do you see what we are competing against here? So much contempt for the likes of us.”

“They’re just children. They don’t know any better.” muttered Guiseppe.

“True. I’ll just tell them that Jesus will come and get them in the night in his Ford Focus with a submachine gun.”

Guiseppe just laughed.

[tenthreeleader]

Watch out for Venezia. Nasties there.

And remember John Paul II was a youth keeper in the ranks of Legia Warsaw.

Good read so far, Gav!

[HorusFM]

Thanks tenthree =]

*****

Guiseppe was awestruck at the sight of Venice as the train pulled into the station. Venice has two main stations and the pair were arriving at Venezia Mestre but had only just found out they had a third train to catch, one to the Venezia Santa Lucia station. They would board their third train and cross the Bridge of Liberty, or Ponte Della Libertia, and arrive at the stark white station of Santa Lucia. As they arrived into it, it looked so out of place with itself being only roughly 60 years old, and other buildings in the city over hundreds and hundreds of years old. Guiseppe never said a word during the bridge crossing, he just took everything in.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it bloody is.”

Fabio smiled. The young guy was so down to earth it was unreal. They got off the train and headed out of the station. They would now have to catch a Vaporetto, which to non-Italians and Venetians is a water bus. Fabio had ridden one before, and they were certainly a pleasure. The stop for the Vaporetto was just across from the station, so there was no chance of getting lost anywhere. Fabio and Guiseppe paid their fares and stepped onto the water boat.

“This is well cool.”

“It’s been a long, long time since I was on one of these.” replied Fabio.

The Vaporetto powered on through the Venetian waterways, making its designated stops when needed. It was a nice warm day thankfully, and the water was calm as the Vaporetto moved along. After around fifteen minutes the Vaporetto pulled alongside Fabio and Guiseppe’s stop. St Marks Basilica was there port of call and where the meeting would be taking place.

They thanked the Vaporetto navigator and disembarked, heading up to the Basilica. It could be seen from a long distance because the building was so amazing, but up close it was just fantastic. They were stood in awe when out of nowhere Fabio Fioravanti approached them.

“I’m glad you decided to make the journey, gentlemen.”

Fabio nodded, “Seems the most we could do.”

Fioravanti smiled, “Let’s go into the Basilica. All the others are waiting inside.”

With the way Fioravanti said ‘All the others’, Fabio was intrigued to know how many were actually here. And how on earth did they get permission to host the meeting in the Basilica? Maybe the Pope really did have something to do with it.

Fabio and Guiseppe nodded and followed Fioravanti into the Basilica. As they entered, they noticed that there were no tourists inside. They must have some real clout to enable this. Fioravanti showed them into a side room where they were greeted by a guard. He checked the pass Fioravanti showed him and gave Fabio and Guiseppe day passes to enable them access. They passed the guard and into another room where a group of men were waiting.

Fioravanti smiled and led Fabio to the group. Three men came forward first. They all offered their hands out to Fabio. He shook all three before they introduced themselves.

“I am Cardinal Bishop Mario Capella.” said the first man.

“I am Alessandro Trombini.” said the second man. The fact that he didn’t have a title meant Fabio just had to ask.

“Not a man of god?”

“No, sir.”

Fabio didn’t pry any further as the third man looked impatient.

“And I am Father Denis Contorte.”

Fioravanti came forward now. “Now that you have met these three, I will introduce you to the others over here, but they can introduce themselves later.”

Fabio nodded and they went across to the room to the other group who introduced themselves as;

Matteo Toma, Michele Sala, Vittorio Antonelli, Fabrizio Antonelli, Fabrizio Oddi, Antonio Stellato, Giacomo Errico, Nicolo Zannoni, Giovanni Baroni and Andrea Masci.

Fabio was getting impatient now though. “What’s this all for, Fioravanti? I hope you didn’t make me travel all this way for a social meeting.”

Fioravanti smiled, “You’re right. It’s about time you learnt of why you are here.”

“About time indeed.” muttered Fabio.

“Alessandro, you do the honours please.”

The only non-Godly person in the room stepped forward and addressed everyone.

“I was approached by your Pope, Joseph Ratzinger, to set up a plan to restore some of the faith in the Roman Catholic Church. For many years, there has been a steady decline in the visitors and believers in your religion. And what is the biggest religion on earth in this modern day?”

Guiseppe spoke out before anyone, “Islam?”

“No my son, it is football.”

[HorusFM]

“Says who?” asked Fabio.

“Read this. It will show you what we mean.”

Fabio took a torn page from Alessandro’s hand.

Is football becoming the religion of the masses?

By Jim Johnson

Roman Catholicism is the league champion of the world's religions with 18.7% of the global population supporting this giant club. It narrowly beats Islam to the top spot, which with its 764 million followers gets 18.3% and has to settle for the runners-up medal. But these figures are based on people saying that they belong to a certain faith regardless of whether they actually practice it. Christians are especially bad for this. Many people claim to be Christian because their grandparents used to go to church. Perhaps they have also been christened. But most are far more likely to spend Sunday mornings watching TV whilst nursing a hangover rather than attending church. Agnostic is a term much more suitable for describing many 'Christians'. Officially this point of view already represents 16.3% of the population, making it the number three 'religion' in the world faith league. But if we moderate this figure with the number of non-practising Christians then it would almost certainly claim league domination. So where are the people going? Are we turning into faithless heathens or are we finding alternative gods? Football is becoming more and more popular throughout the world. Is it possible that a sport could be replacing Christianity as the religion of the masses?

“The final line is the most worrying, isn’t it?” offered Fioravanti.

Fabio nodded, “It is rather.”

“Hence why we have called Alessandro in. Have you been reading the news lately?”

“Yes, why?”

“Did you hear about the football manager who was killed after he and his team were relegated?”

“I couldn’t have not heard about it. They are still talking about it now.”

“Well, his side Lumezzane folded two weeks back. We purchased the land the ground sat on and we have been looking after the stadium ever since. We have also had works started for building a Church and Sanctuary on the premises connected to the stadium itself.”

“I knew this was all football related when you first came to see me, Fioravanti.”

He smiled at Fabio, “All these men here have been asked about joining our new club. They all have some sort of skill that will be useful to the club we are setting up.”

Fabio was lost for words. What in hell was going on? A football club based on religion. It didn’t sound as stupid when he thought about it like that, but he knew deep down that they couldn’t go very far. Could they?

“This is all so... odd.”

“I know,” replied Fioravanti, “but it will all click in to place.”

Fabio understood, but one thing still confused him. “Father, what are you asking me to do?”

Fioravanti smiled once more, “Son, I want you to lead us. Be the ‘manager’, as any normal football folk would say.”

“But what do I know about managing?”

“Probably very little in all honesty. But I think you can do it, and I’m very certain God will back you all the way.”

Fabio sat down on the nearest seat he could find. He really hadn’t expected any of this when he came to this meeting, but in truth he didn’t have any idea what to expect. All eyes were on Fabio as he thought things over.

“I’ll do it. This could be the most revolutionary thing to happen in like, ever. So yeah, I’m up for it.”

Fioravanti smiled. “Time to get this plan into action then.”

[copperhorse21]

still following this and still enjoying it a great deal. KUTGW!

[HorusFM]

Thanks so much copper. Hope you continue to read along.

*****

Chapter 3

Il Calcio Italiano Informatore

Rebirth? By Alessandro Gazzi

It seems that the last time I wrote an article on Italian football, there was no hope for the sport - it had spiralled down so badly that match fixing and even deaths had occurred. It seems that now, I must eat my words. Three days ago, Italy won their fourth World Cup title with a 5-3 penalty win over France - after a 1-1 draw in normal time. A Cristiano Palermo header in the final few minutes cancelled out France’s 7th minute Pierre Martin freekick. The winning penalty turned out to be a miss from France’s Loic Alicarte - which meant that the Azzurri were sent home happy. But where can we go from here? Violence is still a mainstay in the stadiums of Italian clubs, and it seems we cannot shake it off. But maybe hope isn’t far off. As I reported in my last article, former Serie C2/A side Lumezzane were forced to fold after failing to find a new buyer. A new side could take their place if they set themselves up as a replacement for Lumezzane.

And someone did.

Last night, news filtered out that Milanese based Cardinal Fabio Fioravanti has bought up the remnants of Lumezzane FC. I would like to repeat that this is not a joke on my behalf, and it really is the Godspoken truth. Details are pretty sketchy at the moment, and there has been a total media blackout from the former Lumezzane stadium. Reporters from distance have said that building works are being done on the stadium, and an annex has been attached to the office section of the grounds. The whole works are shrouded in mystery and former Lumezzane fans are wondering what is happening to their former haunting grounds.

So we must ask, what is happening? Is this purchase of the club something that the Cardinal is funding himself, or is there a bigger picture here? It’s well known that the Roman Catholic Church is in decline and has been steadily falling for many years. So is this the latest attempt to achieve mass publicity, or are they really trying to adjust to the times?

Throughout the world Sport is believed to have taken over from most religions, and could, in itself, be classed as a religion. Live matches attract many more millions. For example, the most watched sporting event recent years was the 2002 World Cup final between Brazil and Germany, as Brazil stole a famous win and trophy. Over 1billion people tuned in worldwide to see that match. So is it so wrong to suggest that religion and sport will begin to make more ties together?

*****

Fabio stopped reading after that. He lowered the article given to him by Fioravanti and looked across at him. He smiled, as usual.

“Fabio, we are going to make history with this. The idea and thought behind it is so radical and new that people are going to remember it forever.”

Fabio looked at him contemplatively, “I know, I know. I just know absolutely nothing about what I am going to be doing.”

“You know enough, Fabio. There is only one way to progress in life; learning.”

Fabio nodded, but Fioravanti could see he still didn’t grasp it.

“Grab your coat,” said Fioravanti, “were going to take a walk around the stadium.”

*****

Rome

The Apostle stood in front of his two assistants, newspaper article in hand. He threw it down in disgust. His assistants watched on with disinterest. It was usual for their boss to act this way.

"Does anyone know if this is true?" he asked the two kneeling in front of him.

"No, sir. We have had no access to the construction site yet." replied the one to The Apostle's right.

"So much for being my right hand man. You never know anything. Get out of my sight, the pair of you."

The two assistants nodded before fleeing. They didn't want to feel his wrath, like the many hundred occasions they had before. As the door closed behind them, The Apostle sat down in his self-made throne. As he did so, he glanced a look at the newspaper article still lying on the floor.

"I will NOT let you succeed." murmured The Apostle.

[HorusFM]

Fabio donned his long length coat and followed Fioravanti out of the makeshift office. They headed across the newly laid car park tarmac and approached through a security fence. The guard on duty immediately recognised Fioravanti and allowed them through the tarpaulin protecting the secrets inside. As he pulled it back, Fabio was shocked at what he saw. He had seen Lumezzane’s stadium before, obviously living nearby, but it looked so damn different. As you walk through the car park to stadium entrance, there are four turnstiles for entry, and they are made out of marble. The whole thing looks amazing, yet it doesn’t look too over the top. Fioravanti spoke first.

“I know what you’re thinking, Fabio.”

“I doubt it. This place looks expensive, father.”

“It really wasn’t. Yeah, we did have to spend a fair amount of money to pay for it, but all in all, it’s a damn fine investment.”

Fabio nodded. The pair walked through the unfinished turnstiles and emerged next to the pitch side. The grass was so green it was unbelievable. It had been finely cut and was trimmed neatly all round the edges. Sprinklers had been installed on the pitch sides and delivered a nice gentle flow of water to keep the ground moist. Fioravanti motioned for Fabio to follow him into the stadium section. The seats had all been replaced and he spotted the non-Church man Alessandro directing some builders over by the far side. Fioravanti realised Fabio had spotted him.

“He does believe, Fabio. He just doesn’t show it. When the club gets set up, he will become our Director of Football and will be the man you go to if you need some assistance at any point.”

“Father, how is this going to work? I suspect you will only be wanting people to play who are holy people?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t you think that would be rather difficult?”

“Fabio, you will have the biggest shopping list in the world.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are over one billion Roman Catholics in the world, Fabio. If you cannot find footballers in all of them people, then you need some serious help.”

Fabio nodded. Fioravanti was right. He would have the biggest shortlist available to any manager.

“When will the stadium be finished?” asked Fabio. He was eager to get started in all honesty.

“In five days. Which is good because you have a friendly in six.”

“Excuse me?”

“French side Bordeaux are sending their reserves to play us. Their first team manager is coming though. His name is Rafael.”

“But how can I play a match with no players?”

Fioravanti laughed. “Oh, my son, you do have some players. You have at least one, anyway.”

Fioravanti motioned over to the pitch where some priests were stood. He recognised one instantly. Guiseppe was stood with goalkeeper gloves in his hands. Fabio smiled.

There were eighteen others stood with him. Fioravanti walked down the steps towards them, Fabio following behind.

[HorusFM]

As they reached the pitch, the priests walked across to meet the two Cardinals.

“Fabio, I would like you to meet your new team.”

Fabio went around and shook the hands of all his new players. In order for him to get accustomed to them, Fioravanti arranged for them to introduce themselves briefly. The first one stepped forward.

“I’m Gaetano Connochia. I’m eighteen and I’m a goalkeeper.”

“I’m Guiseppe Fabbri, I’m nineteen and I’m a goalkeeper.”

“I’m Emanuele Gabrielli, I’m nineteen and I’m a defender.”

“I’m Guiseppe Grillo, I’m twenty six and I’m a defender.”

“I’m Paulo Koetting, I’m thirty four and I’m a defender.”

“I’m Giorgio Carnevale, I’m twenty and I play at left back.”

“I’m Leilson, I’m twenty and I’m a defender.”

“I’m Daniele Mancon, I’m nineteen and I’m a defender.”

“I’m Simone Rubino, I’m twenty five and I’m a defender.”

“I’m Nicola Fusco, I’m twenty and I’m a defensive midfielder.”

“I’m Domenico Caldaroni; I’m twenty four and a midfielder.”

“Stefano Raggi. I’m thirty six and a midfielder.”

“I’m Enrico Cerri; I’m nineteen and a midfielder.”

“I’m Edoardo Vinciguerra; I’m nineteen and a midfielder.”

“I’m Fabio Battaglini; I’m twenty two and play on the left wing.”

“I’m Stefano Caruso; I’m twenty one and striker.”

“I’m Guiseppe Pierotti, I’m eighteen and a striker.”

“I’m Davide Prosperi, I’m twenty eight and a striker.”

“I’m Gianpietro Teresi, I’m nineteen and a striker.”

Fabio simply nodded at them all. “Can we talk privately, Fioravanti?”

The senior Cardinal nodded and they headed back up the steps. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong Father. I just wanted to know if keeping these players was necessary or if I could bring my own in as soon as?”

“Of course, Fabio. These were drafted in to just give you a base to work from. There is one more thing I wish to discuss with you, Fabio. Come with me.”

Fabio nodded and followed Fioravanti to the office section of the stadium.

[copperhorse21]

What? You want to replace these faithful followers after only introductions? Heresy! The Bible is full of "nobodies" and "no ones" working all kinds of miracles...(smile).

Honestly, you can bring in whomever you want. Just keep writing the story. I love the "voice" of this story. Keep writing this story, whenever you are able.

[HorusFM]

Thanks so much copper. I really am glad you're enjoying this story and as its only main follower, keep on doing so

*****

The office was exquisite. The flooring itself was just special. I was made of white marble and the sound of footsteps on it sounded excellent. Fabio found himself walking harder on the ground just so he could hear the clank. He took a seat next to the Oakwood desk and admired the painting on the wall. It depicted what looked like Moses crossing the Red Sea.

“So what do you need to discuss, Father?”

“We have developed a new system for players under us to become part of the Church.”

“What do you mean?”

“For example; your friend Guiseppe Fabri is nineteen and falls into the Deacon category. Whereas an older player, such as Davide Prosperi, would fall into our Priest category.”

“So what are all the age categories and roles?”

“Any age up to twenty five and the player is classed as a Deacon. Twenty six to thirty one makes them a Priest. And thirty two above makes them a Bishop. The oldest player in the squad immediately has to be the Dean and automatically becomes captain.”

Fabio sat back and amidst the noise of the diggers outside, allowed things to run through his head. The plan to allow players to earn College status was a subtle move to get more people involved in the Church.

“I am thoroughly confused.” Muttered Fabio.

Fioravanti laughed, “Here, this might help.”

Fioravanti handed Fabio a piece of paper.

The Basics of the New College System for C.O.V.A.M

The new College system is for the start based on age.

16 to 25 – This age group qualifies any player currently at the club as a Deacon. This is the lowest of all ranks.

26 to 31 – This age group qualifies any player currently at the club as a Priest.

32+ - This age group qualifies any player currently at the club as a Bishop.

On top of this, the oldest player in the team becomes the Dean of the side and therefore by default they become the team captain. On injury to the Deacon, the oldest Bishop takes his place temporarily.

New Arrivals

Upon the arrival of a new player into the team, the system changes. No matter what age the new player is, he immediately becomes a Deacon. If he is older than Deaconship, it will take a player only one year to move up to the next rank. When he reaches the rank his age matches, the normal system of moving up the rankings will then be re-applied. So for example, if a player is 25 when he joins, he starts as a Deacon. But as he is older than Deaconship age, it takes him just one year to become a Priest. If a forty year old joins the team, it will take him three years to reach his Bishop status, and most likely become Dean.

Internal Promotions

Internal promotions can be handed out at the discretion of the Cardinal in charge at the club, but the decision must be ratified by at least three of the other Senior Staff Cardinals. These aren’t common though as most staff members don’t believe in personal promotions.

“So has that helped you understand?” said Fioravanti, smiling.

Fabio laughed, “It’s going to take awhile to get used to.”

“Don’t worry Fabio, you have all the time in the world.”

"What is your interest in all this, Father?"

"My interest? Why of course, to once more get people to believe in the word of God. From Nahum one-seven; 'The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him.' This is what you must do, Fabio, no matter how hard it may get or become."

[tenthreeleader]

Fascinating concept, Gav. Your writing, that is. The Bible has already been written.

[HorusFM]

Thank you so much tenthree. This is something of a challenge, though I really love writing it.

*****

Fabio remained seated for nigh on half an hour, watching through the large plexiglass window as the works on the stadium continued. The stadium was going to look great, but Fabio had a more pressing matter in hand. Bordeaux Reserves would be visiting in six days, and he needed to prepare something for them.

He was browsing the team sheet in front of him when Fioravanti walked in.

"One thing we haven't arranged for you is an assistant manager."

Fabio smiled, "Well that is where I am one step ahead of you."

Fioravanti looked sceptical, "Oh?" he replied, before taking a seat.

"An old friend of mine is coming to work for me. He used to play professional football."

Fioravanti looked impressed with himself, "And who would this wonder man be?"

"His name is Changming Shen. Or Shen Changming, depending how you say Chinese names."

Fioravanti was impressed, "You mean ninety-three caps Changming? Three time winner of the Asian Cup with China?"

"I do indeed."

Fioravanti had hit the metaphorical nail on the head. Shen Changming was indeed the foremost legend of Chinese football. He made ninety-three appearances for China, notching up thirteen goals from his midfield position. Current Chinese star Han Kun is labelled as being the next Changming.

Fabio looked at Fioravanti in a weird way, as if something was bothering him. "What is up?" asked Fioravanti.

"He's not a Christian. Though he is currently learning."

Fioravanti smiled, "Fabio, Exodus twenty two-twenty one says, 'Thou shalt neither vex a stranger, nor oppress him; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt.'

Fabio nodded, "Thank you father." The acceptance of Shen was great news.

A light rap on the door brought them both away from the situation, the man in question standing before them.

"Shen, I'm glad you could make it."

Shen had spent the last years of his career in Italy playing for Ravenna. and had moved to the area shortly after with his family from China following him. They now ran a majorly successful string of Chinese restaurants in and around Milan. "No problem, my friend. I am really looking forward to this whole venture."

Fioravanti shook hands with Shen and then made his exit to find some refreshments.

"I met the squad today. But I need your help."

"With what?"

"We have a friendly in six days. Bordeaux are sending their reserves here. I need help getting started."

"No problem. We should arrange training for twice before the game itself?"

"Already done. We are meeting on the twelth and fifteenth."

"Excellent. I'll get some things sorted for then."

As Shen finished talking, Fioravanti re-entered with someone at his side. Mrs Botticelli was stood with him, tray of tea in hand.

"My final gift of the day, Fabio. Remember, I'm always one step ahead of you." smiled Fioravanti before leaving once more.

"Shen, meet Mrs Botticelli. She makes a mean Earl Grey."

[HorusFM]

Chapter 4

God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. (I Corinthians 1:27)

12th July 2006

Fabio stood on the side of the pitch at Dio Giochi. In front of him were all of his players bar Deacon Nicola Fusco. He was out for a week with a bruised head after a candle incident inside the local church he trains in. His teammates have been ribbing him for it since he turned up to watch, eager to not miss out on the first club training session. This was history in itself.

The stadium was nearing completion; Fioravanti saying just two more days would be enough to get the neccesary work finished. At the moment it still looked pretty much like a building site, but Fabio was quietly anticipating the 15th, when they came in for training to a finished stadium.

Shen Changming had also settled in pretty well at the club, especially in the local area. He had decided to move homes, but they weren't due to move in until next month. His other family members would be joining him, and they would run their restaurants from distance and travel in every now and then.

As Shen came up beside Fabio, he turned to greet his assistant. The Chinaman nodded and they both shared the same thought. The players in front of them had no kit. They were dressed in their clerical clothing, customary of black in colour and nothing else. Some priests in the hotter climates of the world had been given permission to wear white clerical shirts to prevent the problem of heat absorption by black clothing, but it hadn't been passed in Italy. Thankfully it was quite cold today, but they still looked rather peculiar on the pitch.

"We have no kits, Fabio. Please tell me that they are on their way." said Shen, himself dressed in light red slacks and a red t-shirt.

"I have absolutely no idea." replied Fabio as he turned to go and find someone who might know. "Keep these guys busy, do some header training or... nah, better just make it header training."

Fabio rushed up to the office area where he hoped Fioravanti would be. And thankfully he was.

"The kits, yes, I know." he said, not even looking at Fabio as he entered.

"Why don't we have any now?"

"We needed to wait for permission to be given by the Cardinal College to allow us to let your players wear anything less than clerical clothing."

"Surely this would count as recreational time and therefore we wouldn't need permission?"

"Usually thats the case, yes. But as this is also an attempt by us to revamp the Church, they still believe that you count as being in work, so discussions are ongoing as to what to allow us to do."

Fabio looked satisfied with Fioravanti's answer, but was still worried. "And what if you," he started before correcting himself, "I mean what if we don't get that permission?"

"Then I am afraid you will be playing in your clerical clothing." Fioravanti replied, savouring the look on Fabio's face before putting him out of his misery, "Nah. The Cardinal College are looking into a new form of kit-cum-clerical clothing that would satisfy both. It will be happening, I just cannot promise anything as to what it will look like. They even quoted Isaiah to me, in an attempt to erase any worries I may have had."

Fabio thought hard for a few seconds before recollecting the phrase, "Come now, let us reason together, saith the Lord."

"Indeed thats the one. Don't worry Fabio, something will be here for your players by the sixteenth."

"I truly hope so, Father, or we will be laughing stock in the eyes of the righteous Lord right from the word go."

[HorusFM]

As Fabio returned to training, Shen cast him a look that beckoned him over.

"Fabio, this really won't do."

"What won't?"

"This. Look at them."

Fabio pivoted on the spot and watched as coaches Cardinal Fabrizio Oddi and Cardinal Michele Sala attempted to get the players in a running regime. As Dean Stefano Raggi started he began to slow his pace considerably, and then he fell over. The players jogging behind him also found the same problem, and they all began to fall like dominoes on top of Raggi. Shen buried his face into his hands before looking back at Fabio.

"Do you see what I mean?"

Fabio understood, but these players couldn't just go home. This training session was needed badly, so he had to come up with a plan.

"I'll be right back. Give me twenty minutes."

Fabio left, heading in the direction of town.

*****

It took him only five minutes to reach what he required most. A college for teenagers. As he entered, he met with the P.E. teacher, Dario Vieri.

"I know this may seem like an awfully peculiar request, Mr Vieri, but I wonder if you have around twenty spare sets of t-shirts and shorts."

"I can take a look for you, Father, but can't promise twenty. Nor can I expect to give you all the same sizes."

"At the moment, I will take anything."

Dario nodded, and headed off to his office and changing rooms where the kits were kept. He emerged three minutes later, a plastic box full of clothing in his hands.

"Best I can manage, Father. Bring them back when you are done."

"I certainly will. 'All things are delivered to me of my Father, Luke ten-twenty two'."

"Means nothing to me, Father; I've never read the bible."

*****

As Fabio returned to Dio Giochi, he was welcomed by the sight of his players all sitting down on the grass, Shen showing them a few tricks of his trade.

"Shen, come over here."

The Chinaman nodded and came across leaving the coaches to do the same thing he was. He took on look at the box and smiled. "So we might get something done at last."

Fabio nodded, "Indeed. Whether the players will be happy wearing these, I have no idea."

Shen called the players over, and they took the box to the changing rooms, happy to get into something more footballer friendly. But it was the sight of some of them re-emerging that made Fabio smile. Every player had managed to form some sort of kit out of the box, but one player drew the short straw. Striker Deacon Stefano Caruso came out of the changing rooms last wearing an awfully tight pair of shorts that sadly showed his bulge. His t-shirt was also too small, his arms more difficult to move in the two sizes short shirt.

"Stefano, you look like someone who belongs in a comedy film." said Raggi, laughing.

The striker ignored the remark from his captain, and despite looking stupid, scored the first goal in the training match.

[HorusFM]

Thursday 13th July 2006

We are saved by hope. (Romans 8:24)

"How on earth do I use this?" asked Fioravanti, the mobile in his hand seemingly too complex for him to understand and use.

His assistant turned from his chair and took the phone from the outstretched hand. Within four seconds, the phone was dialling Fabio. The voice on the other end told Fioravanti it was working.

"Cardinal Fabio Ortega."

"Fabio, I have some splendid news for you. But with that comes bad news, as is ever the way it happens."

"Good news first please."

"The College of Cardinals has finally sorted out the kit fiasco. Word has been sent from The Vatican that his Holiness the Pope has ratified the decision, and the kits have been processed."

Fioravanti was impressed. That meant that within a day, they had accepted the decision and had the kits made. But he knew that Fabio knew that the bad news was almost certainly going to be related to the same thing. "Ready for the bad news?"

"Is anyone ever?"

"The truck delivering them has been held up. An expressway leading out of Rome has had a pile up, and nothing is moving in either direction. The truck is securely gridlocked."

Fabio sighed. Were they ever meant to receive these kits? "Any estimation as to when they WILL arrive, Father?"

"The truck should get here by Saturday. But I really can't promise it. There isn't a thing we can do than hope."

Fioravanti sat back and listened to the sound of Fabio almost ripping his own hair out. "Fine. I'll speak to you soon."

The tone on the other end signalled to Fioravanti that the call was over, but he had to pass the phone to his assistant, the young man knowing once more how to turn it off. A knock on the door followed, and his assistant returned with a letter. Fioravanti took it from him and was immedaitely alarmed by the wax seal preventing him from opening it.

/\\/

Fioravanti, destroyer of Christians,

My old friend, it seems we have arrived at a major problem. Our lives, once more, are entwined by the fate of God. I hear from good sources that you have actually gone and set up this ridiculous football club. The masses choose not to believe, that is their own problem. They themselves will face the wrath of God.

That is why you have two weeks to end this debacle, or things will get problematic.

The Apostle

Fioravanti instinctively dropped the letter onto his desk before looking at it again. /\\/ was the symbol of The Apostle's sect. This could spell trouble. He turned to his assistant who was now looking at him.

"Mario, please get Cardinal Mazienzo on the line."

[copperhorse21]

Most excellent cliffhanger...Thank you!

[HorusFM]

Only the best for you, copper

*****

As the call began to connect, Fioravanti was beginning to become slightly worried. The more he glanced at The Apostle's letter, the more he became worried about the situation. Mazienzo was the only person to turn to right now.

"Mazienzo on the line."

The reassuring voice of Mazienzo wasn't enough to keep the fear in Fioravanti at bay. "Hello Cardinal. This is Fioravanti."

"Fabio! It has been way, way too long. What can I do for you? The last I heard was you were working wonders in..."

"He's back."

"Who is?"

"The Apostle."

"You're kidding me, I'm sure?"

"No."

The conversation went quiet as both men thought in silence. Mazienzo, currently sat in his church in Brazil, was the first to resume the chat. "How do you know for certain?"

"I received a letter today stating that I must end our footballing venture. He had signed it. And I know it could not have been a forgery as his official wax stamp embossed the front."

"This is indeed rather worrying. I thought after the incident of ninety-two that we had finally got rid of him."

"Seems we haven't, Cardinal."

"Looks like I am going to be booking a ticket back to Italy much quicker than I thought."

"I would be glad. You and Cardinal Lopez were the only ones who knew of the events of last time. And since Lopez passed away five years ago, its just me and you now."

"Don't worry friend. I will return soon. It seems The Diocese Scandal is coming back to haunt us for a third time. Lest we pray this is the final time."

The line went dead and Fioravanti allowed Mario back in the room. His ears would be too sensitive for anything of this nature.

"Mario, one final favour."

"Yes, Father?"

"Arrange a meeting with Cardinal Joaquin for as soon as possible."

His assistant nodded before making the call.

[HorusFM]

Friday 14th July 2006

The young lions roar after their prey, and seek their meat from God. (Pseudonyms. 104:21)

Fabio was sat reading a newspaper in his finally finished office. The stadium itself was finally finished too, and it really looked good. He glanced outside for what must have been the fiftieth time before turning back to his paper. He's never understood why, but it always made him happy to read about small clubs in the early rounds of the Champions League.

He immediately picked out Linfield, who somehow had to find the money to travel to Bosnia to play Siroki Brijeg. Sadly it proved worthless as two first half goals from Brazilian Pereira and Bojan Alic saw them comfortably win 2-0. Father O'Hara wouldn't be happy with that. Fabio was sure. He had met O'Hara at a Priesthood convention in Venice, and the old guy had taken a shine to the young Fabio. Fabio then glanced to another local side for a friend of his. Cork City had to travel to Tiraspol in Moldova to play Sheriff Tiraspol. It was more of a worthwhile trip for the Republic of Ireland team, coming out on top with a 2-0 win thanks to goals from Dominic Aherne and Neale Brereton. Father O'Neill would be very happy indeed. Fabio couldn't resist a call to the grumpy old sod. He picked up after the fourth ring.

"O'Neill."

"How you doing Father?"

"Fabio? Is that you?"

"Of course not."

"Shut it. I couldn't mistake that Argentinean twang for anything. I'm old, not senile, you know."

"Your opinion. Heard about Cork?"

"My bonny son, I travelled with them. Moldova. Fine, fine place. Still slightly communist."

"O'Neill, you can't go around saying stuff like that."

"I'm an old man. I will do as I please. Is that all you called for?"

"In all honesty, yes. I was tempted to call O'Hara over in Linfield, but he would probably club me to death with a shoe the next time I saw him."

Fabio was certain he could hear laughter, "I'm going now Fabio. How's Mrs Boticelli? Have you told her about my marriage proposal yet?"

"No, and I don't think I will. Goodbye Father."

The line went dead and Fabio laughed. O'Neill never failed to make him laugh. He was well into his eighties now, though. Fabio read on in his paper, notcing two places had had visited in the past had seen football teams in action. FK Baku in Azerbaijan had played Metalurgs of Latvia, but were soundly beaten 2-0. The other was Birkirkara FC from Malta, the side triumphing 3-0 over Armenian side Pyunik Yerevan.

Satisfied with the paper, he put it on the table before sitting back in his chair. He was awaiting news of Bordeaux's arrival, but Shen hadn't got back to him yet. It was a different call that would greet him first. He answered the call despite the ID saying unknown.

"Father Fabio Ortega?"

"Speaking."

"Detective Plizano of the Carabinieri."

"What can I do for you?"

"Do you know Father Fabio Fioravanti?"

"I do. Why?"

"Can you come to Ospedale Maggiore in Milan as soon as possible please?"

"Okay, but why?"

"Fioravanti has been in an accident. I'll tell you more when you're down."

The line went dead, and within seconds, Fabio had left.

[copperhorse21]

Another fine cliffhanger! I'm really enjoying them.

[swagat sinha]

magnifico, gav.

[HorusFM]

Thank you gentlemen. Welcome to the story, swagat.

*****

Chapter 5

He that hideth hatred with lying lips, and he that uttereth a slander, is a fool. (Proverbs 10:18)

As Fabio entered the Milanese hospital, he immediately sought out a nurse or receptionist.

"Excuse me," he asked a nurse, who looked slightly like Mrs Botticelli, "where can find Fabio Fioravanti?"

The nurse typed the name onto the computer, and had the information within seconds. "You will find him in the third ward, upstairs."

"How will I find his room?"

"You can't miss it because of the policemen guarding the room."

Fabio nodded, and remembered that he had spoken with a detective. He went up the stairs, and saw what she, the nurse, had meant. Two armed policemen stood outside his room, pistol clearly in sight. Fabio approached them, and showed some I.D. when requested. They let him in, and he saw Fioravanti on the bed, TV remote in hand.

"Father, how are you?"

Fioravanti showed Fabio his arm, currently set in plaster, "I must admit, that I have been better."

Fabio smiled, the guy never lost his humour. "What on earth happened?"

Fioravanti's smile soon vanished. "I still don't really remember. I was driving to a meeting to see Father Joaquin, but I never got there. I was rammed off the road by a jeep, and whoever it was pushed my car over the edge of the road I was on."

"Have you told the police this?"

"Yes. Well, most of it."

Fabio frowned, "Don't withhold information."

Fioravanti was about to reply when a detective walked into the room. "Yes, Father Fioravanti, we wouldn't want you to withhold information."

Detective Gregorio Plizano stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. "Father Ortega. A pleasure to meet you. I am Detective Gregorio Plizano of the Carabinieri."

The pair shook hands. "So what has happened here to earn interest from the police?"

"The whole situation is slightly peculiar to me. Which is why I formed an investigation."

Fabio nodded, not wanting to say anything and indirectly put his foot in it.

"Mr Fioravanti, is there absolutely anyone in the world who would want you dead? Or at least injured?"

Fiorvanti knew someone who would. "No, Detective, I can think of no-one."

[HorusFM]

"So are you going to tell me why you ended up in hospital?" pushed Fabio, Fioravanti not having uttered a word since leaving the hospital.

"No. I think it is a story best reserved for another time."

"Well, I don't. You didn't tell the detective something, something that is most likely the important part."

"Trust me, Fabio, this doesn't involve you, and you don't want it to either."

"Why not Father?"

"It goes too deep, and its too dangerous. The less that know, the lesser the problem and danger."

Fabio accepted Fioravanti's response. He knew not to push.

"How is the club going?" he asked, before looking at Fabio for the first time.

"It's all going good. I think we are all ready for the game against Bordeaux now."

"Oh yes. About the kits, they should be with you tomorrow."

"Thats good to hear. For a moment I thought we would end up playing in our robes."

Fioravanti smiled, but it soon faded. The drive home took forever.

*****

Detective Plizano sat in his office with his partner, Tofik Umar, half Turkish in nationality.

"Something isn't adding up, Tofik." he said, drumming his fingers on the table.

Tofik was sat across from him at his own desk. "I know. He was withholding something. I'm sure he knows who did this."

Plizano nodded. "I'd agree with that. But if he doesn't want to admit it, then we can't force him."

Tofik nodded, "True, but we could make him slip up."

Plizano sat up, "How?"

"We wait for him to lead us to whoever. I'll bet my measly wage that he will. Either that or he will go to someone who does know. Either way, all we would have to do is wait. No-one attacks a senior Cardinal of The College without either a bloody good reason or there is a scandal."

Plizano smiled. "Now I can see why you work with me."

Tofik returned the smile, "Shall I put a tail out on him?"

"No. no."

"Then what?"

"We tail him ourselves. If there is something going on, I want us to be the ones who discover it. This is our case."

Tofik just smiled.

[HorusFM]

Sunday 16th July 2006: Dio Giochi, Lumezzane, Italy

C.O.V.A.M Squad

(vs. Bordeaux Reserves (Rafael) - Friendly)

G.Fabbri

P.Koetting, G.Carnevale, L.da Silva Mendes, S.Rubino

D.Calderoni, S.Raggi, E.Vinciguerra, F.Battaglini

G.Teresi, D.Prosperi

*****

Fabio stood in front of his players/religious men, and was only now just beginning to have doubts. He and Shen had tried to get them as prepared as possible for this, but after a careful deliberative meeting last night, had decided that they were today going to be run ragged. And not just in one area.

"Well this is it people. Today is the first match of this completely mad plan. We are playing Bordeaux's reserves, and in all honesty, they will be good. All I can say is best of luck out there, and play as good as you can."

The players nodded in unison, and in their excellently styled new kits, headed out for the kickoff. In the small tunnel entrance, they lined up against their Bordeaux counterparts, who seemed to be taking great joy in this. Stefano Raggi, the captain, enquired as to why they were laughing. "What is so funny?" he asked former Welsh youth international Gareth Williams.

"We're playing against priests. Thats what's so funny."

Stefano smiled, "At least were in our first team," he replied, watching the smile vanish from Williams' face rather quickly.

After the flip of the coin, awarding Bordeaux kickoff, the game started quickly. It also gets rather agitating quickly, Algerian youngster Messaud bringing down Raggi with a reckless tackle. It just seemed like revenge for the comment made earlier. Referee Giovanni Franchini calls Messaud over, "I don't want to see anything like that again. Next time you won't be so lucky," he yelled, before brandishing a yellow.

The game moves along quietly for ten minutes before the first real chance is formed by Battaglini. The left sided midfielder bends a delicious cross into the box, where Brazilian Mendes runs onto it, climbs above Messaud, and sends a headed effort goalwards. Sadly for C.O.V.A.M it goes over, but it was a fine worked chance none the less. "Great little chance that, Fabio," said Shen, without taking an eye off the game. Fabio just simply nodded, too engrossed in watching his players.

The first real chance for Bordeaux comes not long after Mendes' header, 16 year old striker Julen Gilles breaking past Koetting with a simple one-two combination with veteran Argentine Rosales. Gilles gets goalside, but his effort is weak and Fabbri makes an easy stop. This though, sparks the finest chance of the early period. Fabbri hoofs it into the centre where Prosperi picks it up, and plays a great ball to Calderoni. The midfielder then holds it up while Prosperi runs past the defensive line, and plays a terrific ball over the top. Prosperi takes a touch before smashing a shot, that only just stays out after hitting the post and bouncing along the goal line. "Jesus, that was close!" yelled Shen.

"It was, but, please Shen, don't use the Son of Christ's name in vain!"

COVAM continue to be the stronger side in this game, much to everyone's surprise, Teresi having an excellent chance gifted to him when Rosales gifts the ball to Battaglini, who crosses for Teresi. The striker seemed surprise to see the ball after it bypassed Bertrand, so his effort was skewed wide. COVAM are really turning the pressure up on Bordeaux.

The whole game seems to be running in COVAM's favour, especially when they nearly score. Twice. A loose ball is picked up by Vinciguerra, who in turn sends it to the far post for Prosperi. He is prevented from pulling the trigger, and the ball rolls to Calderoni. But as he also is about to pull the trigger, Messaud chucks himself in front of the ball, like a madman, to block it. Battaglini crosses the corner in, but it finds no one and passes out for a throw. Quite a waste really.

The half seems to pass by quite quickly in Fabio's eyes. In all honesty, the possibility of the game dragging on, and that of a hefty defeat had been weighing on him heavily. But when the whistle finally went for half time, they were on level terms, and they were also on top. Not a bad way to be going. "We're doing really good, Shen," said Fabio, "Lets get them to keep this going. Wouldn't be a bad way to start."

[HorusFM]

“You have surprised me a lot out there guys. We were all over them, and in all honesty, I think we can go out and steal a very surprising victory. We deserve it after that first half performance. Go out there and show them that we aren’t just priests; we’re priests who can play football.”

The players seem buoyed by Fabio’s words, and left the dressing room in high spirits, and also in the hope of causing a relative upset.

Welshman Gareth Williams and Albert Pujol didn’t emerge for the second half, replaced with Alfred Roussey and Michel Verdier.

The half starts well for COVAM, and it all pays off with some beautiful football. A lovely run down the right from Vinciguerra leads him past his marker, and enables him to send a pearl of a cross to the middle where Prosperi is. Sadly, the striker is too late jumping, and Bertrand beats him to it. Luckily for him, it falls at the feet of Caldaroni, who smashes it past club captain Techer with a fine finish to send COVAM ahead.

“Oh my gosh, Shen, we did it!” yelled Fabio as he hugged his Chinese assistant.

“Yes my man! We’re winning!”

The stadium erupted in a plethora of noise cheering the fact that the goal had been scored. Dio Giochi was now alive with the spirit of God. The referee kept everyone in check before signalling for the game to recommence.

COVAM continue the fine piece of play, and the pressure keeps coming, which allows them to grab an unbelievable second, even if it was extremely lucky. Mendes pumps the ball out to Prosperi on the right, who picks out Teresi at the backpost, unmarked. The striker doesn’t realise that the ball misses Verdier’s leg, and it bounces oddly at Teresi, hitting him in the thigh, but without enough force to take it into the back of the net. “We’ve scored again! What a bloody lucky goal that was!” yelled Shen as he ploughed into the nearest COVAM staff member for a hug.

A multitude of substitutes occur for Bordeaux now, Messaud, Vukadinovic, Rosales, Sciortino and Gilles coming off for Lamarque, Mladenovic, Lempereur, Youssouf and Blanc. Rafael must be agitated with the way his players approached the game, the whole formation changing too.

“Get Mancon ready, Shen. I’m going to bring him on for Rubino.”

Shen nodded, and relayed the instructions to the fourth official. Within twenty seconds, Mancon is up and ready, and he makes his way onto the field to applause for Rubino who comes off.

Bordeaux don’t look comfortable anymore, and seem to be struggling at the back. A freekick from Koetting finds Teresi unmarked at the box, but the striker can’t direct his header into the top corner. “We need to exploit the defence, Fabio,” mutters Shen. Fabio nods, and sends instructions to Raggi.

Two more players take their leave from the field, Lachuer and Bertrand coming off for Plet and Picot. The play from COVAM has just been fantastic though, and they come close to sealing a third goal when Prosperi and Raggi combine delightfully to play Teresi clean through. The striker takes a touch to squeeze past Verdier, but he can’t direct his shot past the outstretched arms of Techer. Another substitute follows when already subbed Roussey comes off for Keelan.

Bordeaux get their first real chance of the game so late in the half. A goalkick from Fabbri lands at the feet of Plet, who pumps the ball back the way it came, allowing Youssouf a free chance on goal. The striker seems in two minds of whether to smash it or place it past Fabbri, but opts for neither and is smothered off the ball by the keeper.

Late sub Keelan has to take his leave through injury after hurting himself in a collision with Koetting, and is replaced with Marcelo. The clock winds down though, and COVAM happily sit back and watch as Bordeaux sink into a defeatist shell. The whistle blows after 93 minutes of excellent Italian football from COVAM. “We bloody did it!” yelled Shen. The victory was an awesome way to start. Paulo Koetting is named man of the match for his excellent work in both defence and coming forward from right back.

C.O.V.A.M 2 – 0 Bordeaux Reserves

(Caldaroni 51, Teresi 57;)

[HorusFM]

Fabio sat in his office sipping a gentle drink of camomile tea - laced with whiskey. "We have earned it," he muttered to Shen, who was sat across from him. Fabio offered the whiskey to him.

"I better not. Mrs Shen wouldn't be too happy."

Fabio smiled. The victory over the Bordeaux team, albeit the Reserves, was an excellent one. "Do you think we would be able to pull off another victory like that?" asked Shen.

"Who knows," he replied, "But we played some excellent football today. Koetting for god sake..."

"Watch your tongue," muttered Fioravanti, who by now was stood in the doorway. Shen looked to the floor like a disgraced schoolboy.

"Koetting was excellent going forward, which for his age is quite a shock."

"No shock, Shen. Just pure divine skill," said Fioravanti, "May I have a word with Fabio alone, please?"

"Of course, Sir," replied the Chinaman before taking his leave from the office. He closed the door on his way.

"Fabio. I said that the story was best reserved for another time to you earlier, did I not?"

"Yes, you did Father."

"Well, I feel like I need to let you in a little."

Fabio felt honoured, "Go for it."

"It started with a man named The Apostle. He exerted a scandal in The Vatican, and as such, caused chaos on unmeasurable scales."

"Is he the one who attacked you?"

Fioravanti nodded, "Pretty much, his goons rather than he himself though. Not like he would get his hands dirty."

"I always knew corruption in the Vatican was rife," muttered Fabio, "It's why I never applied to become part of the College."

"You did wise, Son. As such, I will tell you the rest another time."

"Father, you can't just leave a person hanging like that."

He turned as he was about to leave through the door, "I thought Shen closed this?"

"He did," muttered Fabio, before realizing the problem.

"Fabio, The Apostle is back. And he seems in a vengeful mood."

"Can't the Vatican do anything about it?"

"No," he muttered, almost in apathetic sadness.

"Why?"

"Because only three people knew about it. And one of them is dead. Anyway, Fabio, congratulations on the most divine win today. You best get prepared for the next friendly against Toulon," he said, before leaving the office.

Fabio grabbed the vintage whiskey, "Corruption indeed," he muttered before swigging it from the bottle.

[copperhorse21]

Dark and foreboding....nice