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

[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.