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#More than 10 chapters ahead on my : /TrikoRex
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[Łódź, Poland – Serce Łodzi – Stadion Widzewa Łódź]
A wide drone shot glided through the amber-tinted skies of Łódź, casting a golden hue over the Serce Łodzi stadium. Floodlights bathed the pitch in white brilliance, as supporters' chants echoed like waves crashing against the heart of the arena. Inside, nearly every seat was filled. Most of the footballing world was watching for various reasons, with most teams scouting for new talent.
The camera cut to the rooftop studio — a sleek glass-panelled platform suspended above the East Stand. From here, the green battlefield stretched beneath them like a tapestry of fate.
Jessica Blackwood adjusted her earpiece, her light brown hair catching the breeze as she turned to the camera with the confidence of someone who'd earned her place at the table. "Good evening from Łódź," she began, her voice smooth but electric, "We are live from Stadion Widzewa for the final showdown of the U-20 World Cup. England V Germany, it's more than just football tonight—it's a battle of legacy for these two football giants."
Beside her, Ronan Kaye gave a half-smile, leaning back in his chair. He still carried the effortless charm as he looked into the camera. "And not a bad place to settle it either, Jess. This stadium's got a heartbeat tonight. Sixty thousand people, and not a quiet one among them."
Between them sat Thomas Häßler, the German legend, in a dark tailored coat, hands clasped over his lap. He had lifted the World Cup in 1990 and now watched the next generation fight for their own glory. Since his country's 2014 victory, they have not been convincing during international competitions. So, like most Germans, he was also excited by this new generation, especially with prolific players like Rakim, whom they could build a squad around.
Jessica tapped her tablet. "Let's talk about what's at stake. England's youth system has been on fire since the U-17 title in 2017. Many are calling this group the next golden generation. Two of their brightest? Sixteen-year-olds Jamal Musiala and Jude Bellingham."
A slick graphic overlay swept onto the screen—"Jude Bellingham: Ball Recoveries – 4.1 per 90 | Heatmap: Box-to-Box Presence"
Ronan nodded. "He's the heartbeat. Reads the game like someone twice his age, and he's fearless. Musiala—more silk than steel—but the kind of player who can break your shape in a blink."
Jessica continued, "And of course, Bukayo Saka. Mr. StarBoy himself. Popping up in all the right places."
Another overlay followed—"Bukayo Saka: G/A Contributions – 5 in 6 Matches | Pass Completion – 87%"
Thomas Häßler leaned in now, his voice mellow but sharp. "England has pace, power, and intelligence. But Germany... Germany has Rakim Rex." A dramatic pause, then a burst of footage: Rakim dancing past defenders, chopping the ball mid-stride, slotting home a penalty with ice in his veins.
Overlay: "Rakim Rex: 57 Successful Dribbles | 11 Goals | 5 Assists | 85% Dribble Success Rate"
Thomas added, "He's displayed immense talent from a young age, and now at just 16, I can honestly say he is built differently. You can't coach what he does with the ball. It's rhythm. Instinct. And he's got Wirtz beside him—a surgeon in chaos."
Overlay: "Florian Wirtz: 25 Chances Created/5 games | 4.8 Key Passes per 90 | Assists 9,"
Jessica raised an eyebrow, impressed by the numbers. "We've really gotten a chance to see Wirtz in pressure cooker situations and paired with Rakim's unorthodoxy... that's a nightmare scenario for any backline."
Ronan chuckled, arms crossed. "If Rakim's the fire, Wirtz is the scalpel. England's double pivot will have to do more than just shield tonight—they'll need to anticipate brilliance."
The camera panned to a close-up of the pitch, where the teams were in the middle of their warm-ups. Rakim, in his black and red German kit, bounced lightly on his toes at the halfway line. The ball seemed to kiss his feet with every touch, as they played a possession game.
Just as he nutmegged one of his teammates to send a cheeky pass to Bella-Kotchap, one of the trainers called him to the side. Back in the studio, Jessica leaned forward. "We're hearing now that Rakim Rex is pitch-side for a quick word with Sky's James Howden."
[On the Pitch – Sideline Interview]
James Howden, clad in a thin rain jacket with a Sky Sports badge clipped to his collar, offered a tight smile to the camera. "Thanks, Jess. I'm here with Germany's number 22, Rakim Rex. Rakim—final warm-up, final game—how are you feeling out there?"
Rakim paused, catching his breath as he wiped a droplet of sweat from his brow. His braids were gone—his fresh waves glinted under the floodlights, despite the pattern not being as obvious as it was supposed to be. "I'm calm," Rakim said coolly. "Focused. We've trained for this, and the mood around camp is at an all-time high. Now it is just about delivering ninety minutes of truth."
James nodded, visibly impressed. "You've been electric this tournament—eleven goals, five assists. The world's watching. What do you want them to see tonight?"
Rakim looked straight into the lens. "A couple of good goals, I guess, but I'd settle for a Win," he said, his tone steady.
James grinned. "Simple and sharp—just like your play. Last one, Rakim. You're up against one of the most talked-about youth squads in the world right now. England's midfield is stacked, and their fullbacks love to bomb forward. How do you break that?"
Rakim gave a light smirk. "We focus on playing our own game, we did everything right to get here and now is just about execution."
James smiled at his words, "If I may ask, who on the English team are you most worried about?" He asked in a light-hearted tone as if he didn't realise what he had just said.
"I should have known better than to trust a reporter when they say last question." Rakim retorted with a light sigh as he used his long sleeve to wipe his brow, subconsciously moving his hand to move a dreadlock from his face.
"But to your question, the only player on the English squad we are worried about is the keeper. We are all hoping that he isn't in form or lets the pressure get to him and forgets that he can use his hands." He seriously responded cause if James tried his best to laugh it off. "It's the worst thing when a team works hard to get past multiple amazing players only to have their hopes crushed by a keeper. That is why for every game the guy between the sticks is my biggest opp."
[16:40 | Serce Łodzi – VIP Booth]
A hush rippled through the crowd as the stadium lights dimmed slightly, signalling the prelude to the national anthems. The teams lined up shoulder to shoulder at the halfway line—England in white and navy, Germany in their sleek patterned green with white stripes kit.
Almost like a concert, all the fans had taken out their phones and turned on their flashlights, adding to the ambience. The streaming organisers, who were the main push that made the tournament famous, had asked the fans to do so. Fans who had bought tickets due to the hype were more than eager to be a part of the moment.
Up in the VIP section, a security guard unlatched the velvet rope just in time for Lisa Rex to step through, heels clicking against the concrete. Her white coat flared behind her like a cape, nerves hidden behind designer sunglasses. Beside her was May Parker, gripping a German flag painted onto her cheek, and Rakim's older sister Emma who had taken a break from college to see the match.
They were all a sight to see, distracting quite a few fans whom they walked past. Because, despite all wearing Rakim's jersey top it somehow made them look all the more beautiful. However, anyone who had the slightest inclination to walk up to them quickly stopped upon noticing the hulking figure behind them.
Ben Michael Rex, at age 36, was still in the prime of his life, as despite not being an athlete, he never skipped a gym day. The perks of having a wife obsessed with the gym and training athletes are that you don't get the chance to let yourself go. Not like he would want to, as he valued his ability to knock out anyone who dared to bother his beautiful wife.
If that didn't work out, he has lived in America long enough to know that it was the one who drew his gun first who was right. Unlike the girls who looked like they had put more effort into their appearance with the necklaces, face paint, hairdo, and so on. Ben had simply thrown on a pair of jeans and his son's game top, with the only effort put in being the wavy fair band that held his short dark hair back.
Not minding the looks, they got the group quickly and took their designated seats in the first row of the VIP area. Just as they stood for the German anthem, a tall well well-built man dressed in a professional suit joined them. He wore dark sunglasses and gave out quite the pressure to those around him who didn't know him, especially when they noticed the small handheld 8 by 6-inch mental plated leather bag. Those in the know immediately realised that it was a gun bag and his most likely role was to protect the people who had just joined them.