The first knockout matches for the Gerbil World Cup were scheduled for Tuesday.
Gerbil World Cup HQ had the fixtures. Griselda had them on a clipboard, on the laminated bracket, and on a smaller laminated card that she was carrying in her pocket in case of emergencies, by which she meant in case she wanted to look at them, which was frequently. The draw had produced matchups of considerable interest, several of considerable administrative complexity, and one — Greta had pointed at it without comment and then walked away — that nobody was entirely sure was legal but which was on the bracket now and therefore binding.
Tunnel had drawn an opponent. The Tunnel supporters, who had been in the stadium since the group stage waving flags and generating atmosphere for matches Tunnel had not yet played, received this news with the fervour of people who had been waiting for exactly this moment for their entire lives, which some of them had. The flags went up. New flags. Bigger flags. One gerbil in the Tunnel end had a flag that was technically a bedsheet, and had brought a stepladder to wave it properly, and the stepladder was also decorated.
The Hanseatic League’s opponents had been notified of the fixture by official correspondence. The correspondence had been addressed to the Hanseatic League. Whether anyone had received it was not confirmed. Gwendoline had sent a follow-up. And a follow-up to the follow-up. The bulletin describing the fixture had been written with great care and made no structural claims about the Hanseatic League’s composition, location, or nature. It simply noted that the match was scheduled and that seeds would be available.
Scotland’s draw had produced, in the HQ, a scene of significant emotional intensity. Gertrude had gripped Gwendoline’s arm. Gwendoline had gripped her back. Griselda had looked at the clipboard for a long time and then written something in the margin that she subsequently obscured with her thumb when Gwendoline leaned over to look.
England’s fixture had been received with what was officially described as calibrated awareness and what was actually Gertrude doing a small private dance in the seed store that she believed nobody had witnessed. Greta had witnessed it. Greta would not be commenting.
The inflatable banana had arrived at HQ by some means that did not bear examination and was now in the corner of the main office, where it had been formally logged as miscellaneous tournament equipment and assigned a registration number, because Griselda was not going to have an inflatable banana in her office without giving it a registration number. That was simply not how things were done.
The bracket gleamed under the office lights. Laminated. Authoritative. Partially filled in by Greta under circumstances that remained mysterious.
The very small star next to the final caught the light.
Tuesday was coming.
https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/setting-the-fixtures