I'll be riding shotgun under the hot sun, feeling like someone

[fistandbone]

Two years before, when he'd told Gael Shaw that he was looking at Arsenal, and Monaco, it was with the bravado of a college kid who thought he might have his pick of places. But the truth is, while the U.S. was growing it's soccer talent, it wasn't like the European leagues were fighting over who got a goalkeeper from Stanford. Arsenal had been interested, but ultimately decided to use their cash on a midfielder from Sweden. Monaco had been considering, but same sort of thing, and ultimately Carlos Sánchez landed in Belgium, at Club Brugges.

It's been fine, he thinks; better than, he likes his teammates, and the initial skepticism in the face of the Mexican-American goalkeeper melted away when Carlos showed them his best impression of a wall and helped pull Brugges to the top of the league again, and then into the finals of the Champions League. But all that aside, it's good to be home, and he squints at the sun as he steps out of LAX before sliding his sunglasses on.

And then back down again as he spots a familiar face looking for his car. Their car, probably, he thinks, and he approaches Gael and taps his shoulder. "You must be my date for the carpool," he intones, and smirks. "How's tricks, Shaw?"

Comments

[memorylost]

Gael laughed at the idea that he liked Euro Techno music, like it was the silliest thing he’d ever heard. And maybe it was, in a way. Shaking his head though, he looked out the window. “No, not really. I do like to dance, but I have to say I am partial to American club music. I have even converted some of my teammates to American RAp, which is somewhat of an accomplishment, given the French love their pop music.”

But it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. That much was certain. He tilted his head though as they neared the hotel and smirked back at Carlos. “Is it sad that I look forward to coming back to the US just to go out? I even convinced some friends back in Chicago to hook me up with an ID, because I do not understand why I can vote for our country’s future- but I can’t get drunk to forget it when it all goes wrong.”

He laughed though, before getting out of the car as it stopped in front of the hotel. He and Carlos grabbed their bags and headed inside to the counter to get their rooms, Gael still all smiles. “What about you? Develop a taste for Euro Techno in your last two years?”

[fistandbone]

French pop wasn't so bad, but Carlos had been raised on the Spanish version, which had a few more guitars but was as relentlessly...pop. Still, he hadn't done the club scene much in Bruges, and he didn't do it much when he was home, but he supposed exceptions could be made.

"It's one of the perks of home," he said. "I don't go clubbing much, but even dinner out was like a mobbing back in Belgium. A polite mobbing, you understand, where they pretend they aren't staring at you but they totally are." The Belgians never wanted to admit that they were impressed with anyone, even their own royal family - and Queen Elisabeth's eldest son was said to be a little obsessed with Club Brugges, even if by all rights RSCA was Prince Louis' local club.

He pushed his hair back as he stepped out of the car and paused by the trunk to grab his duffle and rollerbag. "Oh, I'm boring," Carlos said. "I still mostly like salsa. Min-ho tried to get me into k-pop this last year, though," he said, speaking of Brugges Korean-born defender. "Some of it isn't too bad."

[memorylost]

"I have developed a night life," in moderation, really. "K-Pops not so bad, pretty fun to dance to." He couldn't say he was a fan, but it wasn't nearly as annoying at French Techno music, so it had a huge advantage. Getting to the counter, he put his passport on the counter before looking over at Carlos.

"They assign you a roommate this time?" Jim Carlson, the team coordinator, had actually asked him this time if he'd wanted a roommate or a single this time. Gael had almost said a roommate was fine, before thinking on it a little more and passing. He'd at least offered to pay for his own room though, if it was necessary. It was just easier on him if he didn't have to worry about an roommates.

[fistandbone]

"Greg, again." Carlos hadn't in past years made a habit of hookups - and even the few times he had, Greg was usually more than willing to go down to the hotel bar and convince someone to buy a round for everyone while he texted his best friend. "You? Single again?"

He handed over his passport and got his keycard before glancing back at Gael. "Tell the truth, you were afraid of rooming with Joey, and finding out if he farts as much as he claims in the locker room."

[memorylost]

"Yeah, Jim asked if I wanted one- said it didn't matter, but it was easier to be in a single." He said, before looking at Carlos in horror. "I...no, no I don't want to know if he farts to hard the beds shake."

Gael grabbed his passport and room key, waving a little at the desk clerk as they started to move away. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm still somehow the youngest one here. And as much as I love hang out with you old farts, I do need my space." He teased, really. He loved hanging out with the others, especial Thompson who played in Germany. The man had good advice, was a solid midfielder, and just seemed to help all people out in that all around good guy sort of way.

He stopped at the elevator and hit the button, before looking at his key card to see which room he was even in. "Third floor, you?"

[fistandbone]

"Well, probably the youngest who will play, at least." There were a few fresh-faced phenoms who probably weren't going to make it on the field but were on the team. There always were; Gael was just the youngest who'd gotten a lot of play, in the CONCACAF Gold Cup the year before. As for him, it was going to be a weird year, without Michael. Michael had definitely shown him the ropes of working on the national team, and he'd been sad to hear when he'd retired from Atlanta - which ultimately had just been foreshadowing for the USMNT too. Now, Carlos was going to be the one on the field, probably for all the matches.

It was a good feeling, but also a weird one.

"Fifteenth," he said, and arched his brow. "We important, experienced players get closer to the penthouse, apparently."

[memorylost]

"You know the building sways more untop, right?" He asked, smirked as the elevator dinged and they stepped onto it. "But thank heavens I am not right next door to you guys. Oh god, all the old people snoring." He smirked as he hit the 3 and the 15, winking at Carlos as the doors shit. CONCACAF had been a good first start for Gael. He'd played well then, and continued to put in solid performances each time he was on the field.

Hell, he'd even managed to outlast being called 'English' by most of the other guys. Most settled for 'kid' or 'Shaw' these days.

"On a more serious note, I heard Reagan was on the nasty end of a tackle last week. Anyone know if he's going to be playing?" He asked as the doors shut on them. Jimmy Reagan was a little older than Gael, and over the last year the two had bonded up at the top of the pitch. Reagan had a monster of a right foot that complimented Gael's left footed volley's well. They worked as a well oiled unit, the pair of them. Is Reagan was out, Gael wasn't sure who was going to take his place- or if they'd manage to work so seamlessly.

Injuries happened, but damn if they didn't have to happen at the worst times. "I hope he's not, but Jim didn't mention if he was going be here for the wind up." And two months was not a lot of time to find someone who complimented Gael's own play style.

[fistandbone]

"Just remember, I can throw the ball back out and accidentally hit you in the head." His lazy tone belied his his words, though, anyone who got their back up about being teased didn't make it long in either Catholic school or soccer.

"You probably know as much about Reagan as me, and Thompson'll know more, since they're both in Leipzig," he said. "I don't think it was that bad, though. Broken nose when he hit the ground and Bayern's center accidentally kicked him, right?" It was probably an accident, and Ty would kick him for suggesting otherwise - especially since Ty had been right there when it happened. "As long as it's a simple break it'll heal soon enough. Hell, if we were hockey players he'd already be back in the rink."

His main concern was Greg, really, who was an excellent defender, and a star up in Portland, but....let's face it, his drinking problem was only as little as it was because Meredith Addison kept him in line.

[memorylost]

"Yes, but the question is if you really would won't to." He asked, turning to lean against the elevator walls. It wasn't going to take long for them to reach the third floor. "I don't know how bad it was, but it'll be good to have him on the field. If only I could convince him to come to PSG, man- we'd be unstoppable." He grinned at the thought, before turning to look at the counter as it reached the third floor.

"This is going to be an exciting camp, I can feel it already." He said with a laugh as the doors opened on the third floor. "Well, this is me. Room 320, you can meet me down here when you are ready to go out. Bring a friend....all of that." He winked as he stepped off the elevator.