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almorica · 3 years

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Merry

all ages, fresh precure, berry/passion, 4,190 words

what are two girls who’ve never dated anyone to do but see what it’s like together? it’s only the natural conclusion.

ao3 / ffnet

“I really like how organized your room is,” Setsuna noted, turning her head from side to side as she slowly walked through it. When her eyes fell on the bookcase, she paused to examine it. “Especially all these books. It’s impressive, keeping them all grouped by color like this.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Miki replied dismissively, but the pride in her tone expressed how well she was taking the compliment. She observed Setsuna’s progress from her place seated primly at her vanity table. “Leaving things out of place just isn’t perfect, you know?”

“But you go above and beyond, and I think that’s amazing.” Setsuna gave her a refreshing smile before leaning down to inspect a set of light blue spines. “This is a series, isn’t it? What’s it about?”

Miki shifted her posture to look around her shoulder. “Black Sparrow? It’s about a high school girl who becomes a detective and uses that name for her alias. I’ve collected them since I was in primary school.”

“Really.” Setsuna straightened up and turned toward her. “It must be good, then. Do you think I could find the first one at the library?”

“One of my best friends can borrow it straight from me,” Miki responded with a wink, and Setsuna’s eyes widened. “I’m not reading it right now, and I trust you to take care of it. I’d love to have someone to talk about it with.”

“If you don’t mind, then.” Feeling a rush of joy both from the designation of best friend and Miki’s encouragement, Setsuna carefully pulled the book from the shelf. It was just the right size to fit in her purse. “I’ll be sure to tell you what I think about it.”

As Setsuna moved to take a seat across from her at her desk, Miki smiled cheerfully. “I can’t wait. You know, it’s gotten much easier to talk to you now. I’m glad you could make time for me today.”

“It’s a relief to hear that,” Setsuna replied, rotating the chair to face Miki directly before sitting down. “Thank you for inviting me. I know last time we were alone wasn’t much fun.”

“It’s been a while, and we needed a chance to try it again. Plus, there’s always more to talk about.”

“Did you have something in mind?”

Miki nodded, then gave her a sly look. “Was there any dating in Labyrinth?”

Setsuna tilted her head. “Dating? No. I’d never even heard of it before coming here.”

“Is there anyone you’ve thought about dating since then?”

“I haven’t thought about it at all. Should I?”

“Why not? It could be a lot of fun with the right person. Hey, if you did, do you think you’d like to go out with boys or someone else?”

Setsuna stared down at the pale floorboards, giving it some serious thought. Dating was spending one-on-one time with someone, touching affectionately and being touched in return. At least, that was what she understood of it so far. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ve never exactly wanted to be alone with one of the boys.”

“Right?” Miki looked thrilled with the answer. “Boys are overrated. I’d rather let them think my brother is my boyfriend than have them ask me out. But some still do…” she added with a sigh.

“Hehe, you’re popular with others too, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but some people find me unapproachable. No one has ever confessed to me that I could see myself with.”

“So you’ve never dated anyone?”

“Hard to believe, right? And you’ve never dated anyone either.”

“That’s right.”

Miki leaned toward her expectantly. “Soooo?”

“So?” Setsuna repeated quizzically.

“Why don’t we fix that and try it together?”

“Try it… together?” she asked with a blink, long having lost the thread of logic tying together this line of questioning.

Standing up, Miki strode over to her and held out her hand. “Today, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Setsuna glanced between her friend’s optimistic face, her hand, and back. Delayed realization dawned on her. “Eh?!”

—————

The sun shone brightly on Clover Town Street that morning, casting moving shadows below the rustling leaves of the line of trees at its center. Miki and Setsuna had strolled through it together before, but this was the first time Miki had laced their fingers together between them. She was in such a good mood that she sometimes swung their hands forward and back a little, and Setsuna continued trying to mentally catch up with this turn of events.

“Are you sure holding hands like this is okay, Miki?” she asked self-consciously, furtively glancing around. They weren’t alone in the district, but no one seemed to look at them for long.

“Hm? Why wouldn’t it be? Girls our age still sometimes hold hands like this as friends. No one’s going to think it’s anything else.”

“Oh… I see. But what if they do? You’re a model; they’d probably think you should be with someone more like you.”

Miki squeezed her hand. “I’m not embarrassed about being with you, Setsuna. In fact, I’m happy to show you off.”

A blush colored Setsuna’s cheeks. Awkwardly, she angled her head away. “Don’t tease me too much today, okay?” That side of Miki was cute, but she was becoming more aware of the fact that her inexperienced heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Geez, I’m not always teasing~ Ah, the cinema’s right here.” Lightly tugging on Setsuna’s hand, Miki led her up to an old brick building. Setsuna caught the name of the establishment on the marquee before they passed under it, and there was a detailed listing of films on a rearrangeable sign between two sets of double doors. Miki stopped them there. “Did you give what kind of movie you want to see some thought? New showings will be starting in a few hours.”

Setsuna, looking around at the movie posters instead of the show times, left her gaze on one with an older boy and girl posing with a cat. She knew Miki preferred having some kind of opinion over none, and it gave her a good feeling. “What about “Love Fur Real”?”

Miki laughed, quickly putting her hand over her mouth to quiet more of them. “I thought that pun was awful, but it is funny when you say it so seriously.”

“Um, thanks,” Setsuna replied, not convinced it was something she should be proud of. “Do you want to see it?”

“Of course. I love a good romantic comedy. Let’s come back closer to the time.” Hand in hers, she guided Setsuna back onto the neatly paved path.

“What will we do until then?”

“I have the perfect idea,” Miki announced proudly. “We’ll go clothes shopping.”

“Is there something you need a new outfit for?” Setsuna asked, head tilted.

“No, we’re going shopping for you.”

“Wait, I don’t need anything either—”

“Nonsense. We’re on a date today, and this time, I want to dress up my girlfriend. Is that okay?”

Both Miki’s words and playful expression flustered Setsuna. “I… I guess so…” It wasn’t like she had to buy anything, right? And it would make Miki happy.

It definitely did. “Great. We can start right around here. A store with a style like yours is nearby, and we can branch out into the city afterward.”

Setsuna felt a bit tired suddenly, but she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the special attention. Miki could have chosen anyone at all as her dress-up doll, and Setsuna imagined her eye for fashion would have made them instantly more beautiful. She just hoped Miki could find something on her that this expert would find worth her time.

The first shop was one Setsuna had been to with the Momozonos after joining them with barely more than the clothes on her back. It wasn’t as cutting edge as those further into Yotsuba, but it was within her comfort zone. About halfway through, she realized that was why Miki had chosen it in the first place.

“Aah, you look good in pants and skirts! It’s so hard to decide which is better,” Miki observed fondly, her hands clasped together in front of her. A pink-faced Setsuna was amateurishly turning for her in front of the dressing room, comfortable in the dark and delicately-laced skirt Miki had picked otherwise. It was already clear the compliments were going to make this feel like much more of a new experience than it was.

They left that store empty-handed. Miki had agreed with Setsuna that she didn’t need more of the same filling up her closet. On their way to the train, someone finally did acknowledge the two girls holding hands by waving at Miki. Friendly and composed, Miki used her free hand to wave back as they continued on their way.

“So you really aren’t embarrassed about being with me,” Setsuna said afterward, surprised by how relieving it was that Miki hadn’t moved away from her.

“I told you so. You’re not embarrassed about being with me, are you?”

Setsuna shook her head. “I think… I’m proud, honestly,” she admitted, and Miki’s smile radiated self-confidence.

Surrounded by buildings rising much higher into the sky, their next stop was a store with a clean and functional interior. Miki helped line a dressing room with sporty looks and then had her model the strikingly colorful assortment.

“I never thought about wearing these before, but they’re pretty practical,” Setsuna mused, looking down the length of her polo to the end of her cargo capris.

“They are, and they can be in style, too. If you keep up with the trends, you’ll find out when.” Miki looked her up and down as well. “It’s cute, but the mature look really does suit you best so far. Why don’t we move on?”

The next building Miki led her into was flashier, and the smooth black floor was shiny enough to see their reflections in. As Setsuna was more distracted by it than a lot of the clothes, Miki was the one to fill her arms again and send her on her way. Modeling the dark denim, torn band T-shirt and sleeveless black dress was getting easier, despite how radical the change was getting.

Of course, Miki’s support helped that a lot. “You pull off the cool look so well. If we were a little older, you’d look right at home at a live house.”

“You think so?” Setsuna asked, breathlessly pausing her rotation. The flattery was boosting her confidence, but it was also making her lightheaded.

“I do. Actually, I think mixing a touch of this with your usual clothes once in a while would bring out the best in you.”

“Thank you. But…”

“What?” Miki asked patiently.

“...What’s a live house?”

After Setsuna changed back into her own clothes and they held a short discussion, they agreed Setsuna should take the cropped denim jacket with her. One shopping bag left with them.

Miki was set on one more store she already had in mind, but on the way they passed an ice cream stall that her attention lingered on for a little too long. Noticing her friend’s distracted state, Setsuna tilted her head forward. “Do you want to get ice cream first?”

“Eh?” Miki’s eyes snapped back to her. “Well, if we do, we’re probably not going to want anything at the cinema.”

“That’s fine with me,” Setsuna said with a cheery expression, and once Miki mirrored it, they settled on sitting down with a pair of cones. Both of them managed to be surprised at the vivid swirls of color on display, and that made Setsuna feel more like they were on equal footing. They returned to their usual state of not holding hands for as long as it took them to eat, but resuming it afterward felt natural by then.

She’d never realized how adorable Miki looked when she was enjoying something that much.

The last stop was a boutique cute both inside and out, with a pleasantly pink interior and crowded clothing racks. The frilliest dresses Setsuna had ever seen were on display. They didn’t look childlike, but they were a lot to take in.

“You want me to try on one of these?” Setsuna asked, warily regarding the voluminous skirt of one of the mannequins.

“It’ll be refreshing,” Miki answered, winking at her when she glanced over.

Setsuna sighed. She was no match for this fashion style or her friend’s eagerness. “All right.”

She was promptly dressed up in both black and red dresses, a pastel blue skirt, and a matching frilly blouse. Miki was completely enchanted by the last combination, dreamily holding a hand to her face as Setsuna curtsied for her. “You look just like a doll,” she commented. “I’m too tall to manage that now, but your height is just fine.”

“So… it looks good?” Setsuna sheepishly clasped her hands together behind her. She was more than a little skeptical when she looked into a mirror, but the reflection in Miki’s eyes was always kinder.

“Definitely. I don’t think any of these were really you, though, so we should come back another day if you’d like to buy something. I’m sure we’ll find one that’s right.”

“Haha. I’ll think about it,” Setsuna replied, and she turned away her shy smile to slip back into the dressing room.

On their way back to the train, Setsuna was the one to lead them into one final browse at an accessory store. Filled with other students, the hair decorations and jewelry were impressively affordable. Despite the bustle, the atmosphere was cozy, with abundant sunlight illuminating the glass cases and quirky shelves.

“Did you find something interesting, Setsuna?” Miki asked from over her shoulder after they’d split up for a couple minutes. Setsuna nodded, pointing to a set of thin silver bangle bracelets.

“The gemstone flowers in the center are pretty, and they come in so many colors,” she explained.

A few seconds of mulling it over later, Miki plucked the bangle with the red flower and the bangle with the blue flower from the display. “They’re not expensive, so let’s get them.”

Setsuna blinked at her. “Just like that?”

“If you don’t want to, it’s too late to disagree now. We’ll have matching bracelets, just the two of us, so you can’t forget today.” Miki made for the register before Setsuna could get another word in, but she was happy enough to accept through simple silence. Outside, they each slid on their own bangle and took the other’s hand.

They returned to the cinema with a safe amount of time left before the movie. Miki took care of the tickets and their planned seating; Setsuna paid for their drinks. Never having been inside before, Setsuna kept looking curiously at everything around her, and Miki watched her in amusement.

Once she dropped down into one of the plush red chairs in the dim atmosphere of their theater, Setsuna sank right in. “Wow, I didn’t think about how much we’ve been walking until now,” she remarked quietly, careful to not disturb the clusters of other moviegoers seated around them. Time's gone by so fast.”

“It really has. Are you already tired?” Miki was seated in a more elegant way, but Setsuna could tell she was more relaxed than she let on.

“Not really. I could just use some time off my feet in something this comfortable.”

“Don’t fall asleep during the movie,” Miki teased. “We have to talk all about it when it’s over.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Being so aware of the different nature of the day kept her nerves up just high enough to make sure of that. Her only concern now was the budding disappointment that it would eventually have to end, and whether or not that would prevent her from paying enough attention.

They whispered between themselves until the screening began, and then silent, comfortable darkness took hold for a long time. Whenever Setsuna felt her eyes drifting from the screen, she usually found Miki looking back at her. She sufficiently distracted herself with the cute couple’s misunderstandings and the adorable cat that kept them together, at least.

The lights came on again after the credits. Other attendees began to pick up their things and file out. Miki’s good mood was immediately apparent when the two moved to join them. “Keiko was such a sweet girl. It’s too bad her cooking sense wasn’t as good as her fashion sense.”

“It was nice of Haruto to try to teach her, even if the cat kept causing problems with that.” Setsuna laughed. “Little Yuki was so cute. I would have forgiven her even faster than they did.”

“Remember you said that next time Tarte does something you don’t like.”

“Eh—He’s different. He causes trouble even though we can understand each other, but I’ll do my best.” Setsuna shook her head with a smile, trailing along beside her on the low-lit path out. “This was a fun first movie to see. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m grateful for your company too,” Miki returned. Her gaze caught on a clock on the wall as they passed through the first hallway out. “I still have time before I need to go home. Do you?”

Miki really was giving her the entire day. Setsuna was amazed her friend wasn’t bored with her yet. Definitely not there yet herself, she said, “Yes, I do.”

“Is there anywhere you would like to go before then?”

Honestly, she’d been thinking about the answer to that already. It felt silly to say it, but it was both a place she loved visiting and one she thought might be a perfect end to the night.

Bashfully, Setsuna nodded. “Could we go to the restaurant up on the hill?”

—————

By dusk, they were seated at a table covered with a pale blue cloth. The clinking of silverware around them punctuated the warm murmur of conversations of other customers. Their table was inside under the soft lighting spaced throughout the dining room, but the beautiful sky was visible through the wooden awning over the deck. The place was so welcoming each time Setsuna walked through the door, and yet…

“It’s more expensive than I remembered,” Setsuna said awkwardly. “I didn’t think about it before now, because I was never the one paying for it.”

“Magazines don’t just pay in fun, you know. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t treat you to something nice?”

Miki said it so easily — girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend. Setsuna was too stunned by it each time to say anything in return. She was envious of that boldness, but also felt wistful over the possibility that it could be an act at all. With her eyes averted, she said, “You don’t have to go that far just for this…”

She was being awfully spoiled for a pretend date, and it was getting her hopes up.

“Don’t worry. You can pay me back just by enjoying it.”

Miki’s sincere smile was enough to ease anyone’s worries for a little while, and Setsuna nodded. “Okay.”

They discussed previous times they’d been at the restaurant once that was settled, both revealing it was with their families. “I’ve never been here without my mother before,” Miki admitted, looking around as if seeing the establishment in a new light. “It feels so mature. Coming here was a nice idea.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve only come here on the Momozono Monthly Eating Out Day, so it’s the same for me.”

“It’s sweet that your family has something like that. It’s never planned that far ahead for us.”

“I think it’s sweet, too.” She couldn’t take credit for starting it, but she could allow herself to be just a little proud of it.

They ended up on a tangent that led to a conversation on their separate schools, and their food came not long into it. It looked and tasted as delicious as usual, and Miki’s enraptured expression after the first bite of her pasta dish was one more adorable thing to add to the list. Setsuna was sure she made something like it when she tried her own, because she could hear Miki giggle from behind her contentedly closed eyes.

She still had room for cake once she cleaned her plate, but only barely. Miki suggested sharing a slice to avoid either of them being too stuffed to walk home, and Setsuna was quick to accept. The rich chocolate dessert melted in her mouth, and she couldn’t think of many more moments she’d felt happier.

Miki paid as promised. It was fully nighttime when they stepped out, leaving only the row of lamps guiding them along the path down the hill to illuminate their stroll. Setsuna had been the one to take Miki’s hand this time, and Miki readily accepted.

Before long, Miki’s arm snuggled up against hers. “It’s gotten chilly out since this afternoon. I suppose it is that time of year.”

Setsuna took a moment to look over Miki’s outfit and see the problem: she had long sleeves, but only a thin scarf around her neck. Of course she would be cold. “Just a second,” she replied, letting go of Miki’s hand and stepping back. She set the shopping bag and her purse down long enough to take off her navy blue blazer and hand it over.

Curiously, Miki took it in hand and blinked. “Setsuna?”

“Go ahead and wear that. I’m not cold at all,” Setsuna explained.

After staring at her a little longer, Miki laughed and rearranged her things to do as she was told. “You could have just given me the jacket you bought today. Now you should put that one on before you do start to feel the chill.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Setsuna returned the laugh nervously and reached for the shopping bag. The denim jacket went on smoothly. She then picked up her things and resumed the walk, feeling Miki take her hand a second later. Setsuna was still kind of embarrassed, but she managed to look over anyway.

For the first time, Miki had a satisfied blush on her face. “...But thank you. It feels more special this way.”

“N-No problem.” Hastily, Setsuna turned her head away. Looking out over the green hill to the wide expanse of Yotsuba, it occurred to her again that their “date” was almost over. She exhaled with the predicted disappointment, unable to find the words to express it instead.

“I had a great time today,” Miki said. “You must have tried pretty hard to understand me since then.”

“I did. You’re my friend just like the others, so I didn’t want things to be awkward forever. And you’ve gotten more patient with me, haven’t you?”

“Was I that obvious?” It was a time Setsuna could picture her playfully sticking out her tongue. “I wanted to become a nicer person, and I wanted to understand you better. You were an important friend to me.”

“Were?” Setsuna repeated.

“Er, well…” As Miki trailed off, she stopped walking. Setsuna paused with her, bringing her gaze back to the other’s conflicted expression. Their clasped fingers kept them connected. “I said it was just for today, but I realized I don’t want it to end here. If you don’t either, I’d like to be your real girlfriend.”

Setsuna froze for as long as it took to process what Miki said. Undeniably genuine this time, girlfriend struck her heart with a tender ache. She wasn’t sure whether she or Miki had the reddest complexion. “Do you mean that?”

Of course she did, but Setsuna wanted the reassurance.

“I do. Could we say today was a real date after all?”

“Yes,” Setsuna replied, a hopeful smile blooming. She stepped back toward Miki, closing the suddenly unnecessary distance. “If you’ll have me, I’d be happy to.”

Miki, too pretty under the lamp overhead, drew another few centimeters closer. Even if they weren’t the only two this far on the path, it would have been impossible to spare any thoughts for someone else. “Do you know what people on a date do now, Setsuna?”

She did. She knew even before today, but the movie’s touching end was still fresh in her mind. It was difficult to believe she could achieve the same happy ending even as she prepared herself for it. “Mm hm,” she answered softly, eyes half closed.

Releasing Setsuna’s hand, both of Miki’s rose to her shoulders instead. She only had the shortest space left to shut her eyes and lean in before her lips pressed against Setsuna’s in a brief, sweet kiss.

When Miki pulled back, Setsuna’s erratic heartbeat continued hammering away in her chest. Miki looked affected as well, but she quickly, outwardly, recovered. “Now, let’s get home before our parents worry too much,” she said confidently, winking at Setsuna as she took her hand one last time. She restarted their progress down the hill, now at a pace where neither was dragging their feet.

One more treasured memory for Setsuna to keep in her heart, their long day together gradually came to a close.

#fresh precure #setsuna higashi #miki aono #setsumiki #my fics #the title is a rurutia ref. please listen to rurutia.#the word count is so overboard for a lot of cute girls holding hands :')))))

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allofbeercom · 6 years

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From Manchester City to Oklahoma: how a rejected footballer kept the dream alive

Laurie Bell became one of the most expensive 12-year-olds in British football history when Manchester City signed him from Stockport County, but he had to wait a decade and move 4,000 miles away to make his professional debut

In the dressing room of a baseball stadium in the American South, I fiddled with orange shinpad tape, yanked my heels to my buttocks to stretch already-limber quadricep muscles, and tap-danced impatiently on plastic studded football boots. Ten more debutants in creaseless kits waited in line. A dipping Oklahoma sun peeked inside the tunnel, beckoning. When the referees eventually signalled that it was time, we marched out. First on red clay, then green grass, then across the straight white lines of a freshly painted football pitch. In the stands, 8,000 soccer rookies rose to their feet, waved homemade flags, and glugged half-price cans of Modelo beer. Up in the posh seats, the clubs hierarchy were given a first tangible taste of a team that had been two years in the making.

It was a momentous walk for all of us: the first action on the first night in Tulsa Roughnecks history. For me, it proved the last, improbable leg of a 14-year journey that had transported me 4,000 miles from my English home. At 22 years old, after a sequence of rejection and lateral footballing progress, my professional debut had finally arrived.

Men in military uniforms trumpeted out a national anthem. For a moment, a reverential hush cloaked the excitement for soccer pulsing through this old oil city. Stood by the halfway line where short stops might field on baseball-playing days I considered how we all arrived here. How had this brand new team leapt into existence? What did this crowd expect? Was our flung-together squad any good? Whats that centre-backs name again? And, of all the football clubs in all the world, how the hell had I ended up in Tulsa, Oklahoma?

This wasnt English football. This hadnt been the plan.

Tulsa Roughnecks players sign autographs for their fans. Photograph: Lori Scholl

Statistically speaking, the first match in the Roughnecks record books ended in a 1-1 draw. But as sunburned schoolteachers and hoarse local lawyers joined kids clamouring for autographs at the perimeter of the field, that balmy night in March 2015 felt decidedly like a victory. Shirts sold, fireworks crackled and fans fell in love. Giddily unpracticed, I signed programs, iPhone cases and exposed forearms. Opening night was a win for the Roughnecks and for football in the city.

There was immediate evidence of both a passion and market for soccer in Tulsa, like there is in increasing numbers of cities across North America. In the past two seasons across the top three leagues covering the US and Canada the MLS, NASL and USL 24 new professional soccer clubs have founded. Tulsa Roughnecks is one part of professional soccers recent proliferation in the US. This is one players insight into life at a brand new club.

Describing Tulsa Roughnecks FC as brand new is only partly true. In 1983 a professional outdoor team from Tulsa named the Roughnecks was crowned king of the North American Soccer League. They beat the Toronto Blizzard in Soccer Bowl 83 in front of 53,000 fans.

The glitzy NASL attracted footballing greats such as Johan Cruyff, George Best, Pel and Franz Beckenbaur. Their presence helped draw impressive attendances at stadiums nationwide, with thousands more fans tuning in on TV. Even without a bona fide superstar, the Roughnecks enjoyed a strong local following and considerable onfield success. But when the league folded and soccers grip on the imaginations of the American people loosened, the team followed suit.

Having been founded in 1978, the Roughnecks disbanded six years later, the season after they won the championship. A few upstarts tried to bring the sport back to the city but they were unsuccessful and Tulsa was largely soccer-less for the next three decades until 2013, when Mike Melega, General Manager of the Tulsa Drillers baseball franchise, picked up his newspaper.

I saw in the paper one day that Oklahoma City was getting professional soccer, said Melega, the picture of an American sports executive: khaki trousers below a club-crested polo shirt and dark brown hair cropped neatly around the back and sides. At the time time, Melegas only title was GM of the Drillers, a feeder club affiliated with a Major League Baseball team, but his staff was also tasked with managing the Drillers under-utilised ONEOK Field, a three-year-old, $40m stadium in the heart of downtown Tulsa.

Youre always keeping your eyes open for trends and opportunities, continued Melega. Professional soccer in America is growing and I thought our city needs to be at the forefront of that.

Tulsa and the state capital, Oklahoma City, are 100 miles apart: neighbours by American standards. Melega discovered that the same ownership group had already purchased expansion rights for soccer teams in both cities. An attractive new sports franchise and a lonely stadium: the GM foresaw a marriage. Melega, along with Brian Carroll, vice president of media and PR, convinced the Drillers owners brothers Jeff and Dale Hubbard to fund a wedding.

Dale Hubbard is a former professional baseball player who had never watched a game of soccer. But Melega is persuasive and, trusting his judgment, the Hubbards purchased a majority share in their citys expansion rights. A crazy, crazy year and a half of preparations followed. But on 18 December 2013, addressing a room of reporters and early self-declared supporters, Melega held a scarf above his head and announced that soccer was returning to Tulsa. In 2015, the team would compete in the United Soccer League, the third tier of US soccer.

Laurie Bell playing for Tulsa Roughnecks. Photograph: Lori Scholl

That same afternoon in Milwaukee, Wisconsin I completed a Media Law exam. I was 21 and two-and-a-half years into a university soccer scholarship. Five days earlier I had been named in college soccers team of the year (making this Mancunian an All-American), having enjoyed my finest season as a footballer. From central midfield I scored 13 goals, captaining my Division One team to league success, record home crowds and a coveted spot in the NCAA national tournament.

I finished the exam then packed a suitcase to return to my parents home in England for Christmas. On the flight, early visions of playing professionally in the US pushed law out of my mind. At the time, I couldnt point to Oklahoma on a map.

Every time I touch down at Manchester Airport, Im struck by the abundance of white rectangles painted on to patchwork grass fields below. There are football pitches everywhere. While the game gains popularity in the soccer-hungry landscape of 2016 America, there remains just one other professional team within 250 miles of Tulsa. By contrast, within 25 miles of the Manchester runway sit nine professional clubs, with almost double that number at semi-pro level. Before my 18th birthday, I had represented three of them.

I was scouted by Stockport Countys School of Excellence as an eight-year-old and excelled in their navy colours for the next four seasons, building up a reputation in the region. So when Manchester City offered me a spot in their world-renowned academy, a tribunal ruled that hefty compensation was to be paid to County, making me one of the most expensive 12-year-olds in British football history.

A lifelong City fan, I gladly committed my teenage years to the academys Platt Lane training complex, where prodigies progress and dreams come true. Every Tuesday and Wednesday I was excused from school and reported to the same fields and the same coaches that reared my City heroes: Shaun Wright-Phillips, Stephen Ireland, Micah Richards and Joey Barton. On Saturdays after my own matches I ball-boyed at the stadium. From pitch level, I watched Daniel Sturridge and Michael Johnson make Premier League debuts, convinced that one day Id be out there too.

But the fantasy of playing professionally for my boyhood club ended when I was 16, graduated from high school and deemed not fast enough to mix it with the latest crop of demi-stars scouted from across the globe.

Two years later, a second door to dreamland shut firmly in my face. I had completed a two-season youth team apprenticeship at Rochdale AFC, a club 108 years older than the current Roughnecks. Desperate to land contracts, my team-mates and I fought to impress The Gaffer by whatever means necessary. On the pitch, we scrapped to a Youth Alliance league title. Off it, we completed chores: filling wheelie-bin ice baths with freezing water, packing training equipment into The Gaffers Nissan Navara and obediently scrubbing the first teamers boots we wished to fill.

I regularly trained with the professionals, played alongside them in the reserves, and appeared in a first-team pre-season match. When I was named the clubs Youth Player of the Year in 2011, I became quietly confident about my chances. But money wasnt flowing through the grey, north Manchester town. And the first-team was stacked with experienced central midfielders. I just dont see you replacing them next season, rang The Gaffers crushing message in May 2011.

On the drive home I pulled into a Chadderton layby to call Dad. As the call connected, I turned off the wipers and watched raindrops slide slowly down the windscreen. How much of my cracking voice he made out Im not sure. But he got the message.

We knew this was a possibility, so just keep your head up, mate, he reassured me. Were going to find you a club. This is not the end. Another, maybe even a better, opportunity is going to come along for you.

It would do, not that I could see it then. I was 18 and after a decade on the English academy track thought I was finally nearing destination professional football. As it turned out, I was just setting sail on the scenic way around.

Team-mates found non-league teams and workaday employment. School friends packed for universities. My academics, which I had managed to successfully attain alongside football, earned offers from a number of prestigious British schools. But none interested me. I needed football. If not, adventure.

When the tears dried, I impressed at a showcase match in front of scouts from across the globe and was presented with an opportunity that ticked both boxes: Soccer! In America!

I agreed to play on a four-year football scholarship at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee that would cover tuition fees and provide help towards rent and textbooks.

My flight to Americas Midwest region connected at JFK. On approach to landing I looked down: baseball fields everywhere. I sneered, silently judging a sport I didnt understand, never imagining a few years later I would be playing on top of a matching red clay diamond.

By late 2014, Tulsas new club had fans, a crest and a name. A competition carried in Tulsa World, the local newspaper, allowed readers to decide what the franchise would be called. Future fans voted for a Roughnecks resurrection. The club assembled a supporters group The Roustabouts from the most enthusiastic responders to the newspaper poll and drew up diagrams of how to squeeze a football pitch on to a baseball field.

Mike Melegas vision was taking shape. The Drillers had erected a soccer club from nothing. All that remained missing was an entire squad of players and a head coach to scout then train them. But as the baseball staff believed: if you build it, they will come.

The Roustabouts show their support. Photograph: Lori Scholl

David Irving already knew Tulsa well when Melega first made contact. The 63-year-old Englishman had played for the NASL incarnation of the Roughnecks for a season in 1980, following a career scoring goals in the UK for Workington, Oldham Athletic and Everton. He also knew the USL, having coached in the league for 16 years. He led Wilmington Hammerheads to a title in 2003 and set Glenn Murray on a course to the Premier League in the process.

Irving was appointed in November 2014 and handed keys to a renovated locker room full of empty seats. The search for a squad took him and Tom Taylor, his assistant coach, across half the northern hemisphere.

For the first two months I was just travelling, trying to recruit players and set up combines and look for players, said Irving, Cumbrian tones still heavy despite a quarter-century living in America. That was my priority and everything else would just kind of fall into place. I started during Thanksgiving. I went to combines in Chicago, to Fort Lauderdale, San Diego, LA, Vegas, Orlando, all over. Tom was in Ireland, I couldnt make that one. So we went all over. Its a process, and it was challenging putting a team together for February of 2015 when we started pre-season.

On their travels, the pair realised they were recruiting for a much different USL than the league they had worked in before.

In 2015, 13 newly founded expansion teams competed in the USL. The inflated league rebranded and restructured into two conferences an east and a west instead of one. Another five clubs began USL play in 2016, making the new-look league 29 teams strong, with yet more committed to join in 2017.

The influx is a product of two factors: the demand for professional soccer in more cities across America and the leagues alliance with Major League Soccer in 2014. Twenty-one of the current 29 USL teams have MLS affiliations. The relationship allows players to be loaned between teams, imitating the Spanish model, in which La Liga clubs field second rosters in divisions below.

At its core then, this evolving league is a developmental one. Evidence is in the young squads the average age of the Roughnecks 2015 team was 23 and the five substitutes a coach can field per match. Players generally sign modest contracts (with housing usually included) lasting the duration of the seven-month season, after which theyre on their own financially. According to Irving, change is good for US soccer.

Obviously its great to have the MLS teams entering the league, he said. It brings the whole thing up to a new level. I think every team has a different philosophy, whether theyre going to use the USL for development or for senior players to get time, or a combination of both or for academy players. Whichever, the league is getting better.

Laurie Bell playing for the Tulsa Roughnecks. Photograph: Lori Scholl

Bigger and better: the USL is growing in a very American way. And with professional soccer proliferating across the nation, more opportunities are opening up for players. However, spots for non-US citizens remain limited to seven per team, driving competition high between foreigners chasing their American dreams. Last year, I realised mine in Oklahoma.

The week before Irvings official appointment, my college soccer career ended in a 1-0 loss on a bitter winter night at Cleveland State University. Rooted inside the frosty centre-circle, I looked out into the Ohio abyss and wondered where football might take me next.

My sights were set on Major League Soccer and weeks later I was invited to the MLS combine, an annual three-day showcase attended by head coaches from each team in the top US league. I spent the winter preparing: first, alone on frozen Wisconsin astroturf pitches as I finished my university semester, then in England with Blackburn Rovers first team. But while with Blackburn, I suffered a cruel recurrence of the patella tendonitis that had haunted me as a teenager. In January 2015, I arrived in Fort Lauderdale, Florida with a suitcase full of painkillers and doomed hopes for a miraculous recovery.

As a foreigner, I was already vying for one of a limited number of international MLS spots. That season, Frank Lampard, Steven Gerrard, David Villa and Andrea Pirlo would claim four of them. To land a contract, I needed to at least outshine my college-age competition. Instead, in front of American soccer royalty, I winced through three forgettable 45-minute appearances. On draft day, the MLS commissioner called 84 names. Laurie Bell wasnt one of them. Rejection stung afresh.

I returned to Milwaukee questioning. Why had no club ever taken a chance on me? Was something fundamental holding me back? How long could I continue failing at chasing a dream? And was there anywhere left to try?

Some of these USL expansion teams still need players for this season, offered my college coach Kris Kelderman. Theyre putting together whole rosters from nothing. What do you think?

Not knowing what to think, I landed in Tulsa in late February and reported for a pre-season trial. A pair of tornadoes during the week did little to reassure me I was in the right place.

If I had hesitations about the wilderness of this new USL, they evaporated upon walking into the Roughnecks upmarket ONEOK Field home. I found my name fixed to a locker in Premier League-class changing rooms, a kit printed with my chosen No4, and was given a comfortable flat to sleep in. I met a young group of players who were impatient to prove themselves and a staff that was building from the ground up. Immediately, I wanted in.

Irving was familiar with me through a recommendation from another English coach I had played under the previous summer. As long as you dont want too much fucking money, he said, half-smirking, fully serious, as I sat trembling in his underground office at the end of my trial, wed like you to join us here this season.

I squirted a response, agreeing to become the 11th signing in Tulsa Roughnecks history then floated back to my new apartment. With no Wi-Fi installed yet, I hurried a mile to the nearest Starbucks to Skype my parents. As the call boop-boop-booped into life, the clouds broke and an orange sun bounced through the windows. Two expectant faces 4,000 miles away squeezed together inside my phone screen.

They want me, I announced, as relief as much as joy plastered all our faces. Im going to be a Roughneck. In the most improbable location a baseball arena in tornado alley, USA I had finally found my first professional football home.

Upon signing for enough money to contentedly live on, but not too fucking much I became part of a unique squad. Given the clubs new status, no players had past experience in Tulsa, resulting in an utterly egalitarian dressing room. No captains, no cliques, no hierarchy. And initially, not much leadership, conversation or banter either. Far from the abusive pre-season initiation stories Id heard from English first year pros, I took a seat at my locker, one of 21 equal parts. In Tulsa, rookies might have pumped up the balls, but our own were left unharmed.

The Roustabouts. Photograph: Lori Scholl

Almost inevitably, this unfamiliarity resulted in a slow start to our season. But form steadily improved and, ultimately, playing for a brand new club proved much like playing for any other. We won as many games as we lost, the squad united through plane rides, card games and nights out on away trips to Arizona, Washington and California, and we put ourselves in contention for post-season playoff qualification. After winning our final fixture 2-0, the fate of our season hinged on Austin Aztex beating Seattle Sounders 2 our rivals for a playoff berth one week later.

When the game arrived, Melega, Irving and the rest of the organisations staff suggested we watch together. Over the course of the year, players had grown close to the creators of a club at which most of our contracts were close to complete. So, on a hot September night we gathered inside Empire Bar, where orange Roughnecks scarves entwined with more faded football memorabilia on the walls. We knew our chances of progress were slim and the whole night shimmered in end-of-term affection. One midfielder had landed after-season work at the pub and nipped behind the bar to pull me a pint. By kick-off time, a Twitter invitation lured hundreds of Roustabouts cramming through the doors.

So we watched together. The staff, who had turned a fanciful idea to fill a stadium into a real life football club. The fans: regular Tulsa townsfolk wholeheartedly embracing their new hobby. And the cluster of coaches and players parachuted into this baseball playing southern US city from all corners of the globe and tasked to get the football rolling.

We did, but there would be no fairytale finish to Tulsas first season in the USL. Seattle won 3-2 and the settled table ranked us seventh best in the Western conference. On paper then, several of the 24 North American expansion clubs were more successful than Tulsa in 2015.

But as nail-biting TV-watching evolved into a lively end of season party, there felt like plenty to celebrate for all involved in the Roughnecks organisation. League positions and trophies are important goals for a football club. But truer measures of success for a start-up sports team are surely its reception by a city and integration into local culture.

To my mind, that has been the Roughnecks chief success, one that makes the club a model for future expansion teams. Irving placed as much importance on us bonding with fans signing every autograph and sharing post-match drinks in local bars as any onfield tactics. Melegas staff appointed The Roustabouts de facto club ambassadors and organised the squads appearance at several community events.

The result was that a diverse ONEOK Field crowd produced the fifth highest average attendances in the league nationwide, a remarkable feat in the clubs first season. When jogging through downtown on cool down days, workers banged on office windows, kids hi-fived us, and pick-up truck drivers affectionately tooted horns. And one year on, now plying my trade in Sweden, I still receive regular well wishes from Tulsans via Twitter.

As the afterparty staggered to Legends the citys resiliently popular country dancing hall and players, coaches, club staff and supporters joined cowboy-booted locals on the dance floor, the assimilation felt complete. To sustain this professional soccer proliferation, each new North American club must dance to its own beat. And thats how I learned to Tulsa two-step.

This article appeared first on In Bed With Maradona Follow Laurie Bell and In Bed With Maradona on Twitter

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/from-manchester-city-to-oklahoma-how-a-rejected-footballer-kept-the-dream-alive/

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