Football singularity-Chapter 678 Best FIFA Football Awards 2020
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[17/12/2020 | Hahnwald Estate, Cologne | 19:45 Local Time]
The screen filled with the FIFA logo, sleek and rotating in 3D, before dissolving into a montage of 2020's defining football moments. Reshmin Chowdhury appeared on screen, hosting from FIFA's Zurich studio. The setup was elegantly COVID-conscious—minimal crew, distanced seating, large screens behind her displaying the ceremony's branding.
"Good evening, and welcome to The Best FIFA Football Awards 2020," she began, her voice warm and professional. "Tonight, we celebrate excellence in football during what has been an unprecedented year."
Split screens appeared showing various nominees joining remotely from their homes—players in suits, managers in casual attire, goalkeepers waving awkwardly at their webcams or camera setups. The production quality varied wildly: some had professional lighting setups, others looked like they were calling from their kitchen.
"Look at that," Emma said, pointing at one screen showing a player with what appeared to be a ring light duct-taped to a chair. "We're more professional than half these people."
"Well, all this equipment is from May's streaming setup, honestly, I would have been fine with a webcam", Rakim replied.
"You're just mad because you can't work half the equipment," May added without looking away from the screen.
"Why do they make it so complicated? You use three different platforms just to record a simple reaction video," he complained.
"It's okay, honey."
Reshmin continued, running through the evening's categories. "Tonight, we'll be awarding The Best FIFA Men's Player, The Best FIFA Women's Player, The Best FIFA Men's Coach, and of course, the FIFA Puskás Award for the most beautiful goal of the year."
At the mention of the Puskás Award, Lisa squeezed Rakim's hand tighter. He didn't react outwardly, but noticed the tension slightly rise in the room. He could tell just how much everyone wanted this for him, especially since his was the first footballing award that they could help him win.
"Before we get to the main awards," Reshmin said, "let's take a moment to appreciate some of this year's most memorable goals."
The screen transitioned to a highlight reel. Thirty seconds of pure football artistry—bicycle kicks, long-range screamers, team goals involving twenty passes. The production was excellent, each clip perfectly timed to dramatic orchestral music.
"They really know how to build suspense," Ben observed quietly.
"That's the point," Emma said. "Keep everyone watching through the commercials."
"There are no commercials. It's FIFA."
"Then keep everyone watching through the boring speeches."
The highlights ended, and Reshmin reappeared. "Now, let's move on to one of the evening's most anticipated awards—the FIFA Puskás Award. This year's finalists have produced moments of brilliance that have been watched millions of times across the globe."
The screen split into three sections, each showing a nominee in their respective location. On the left, Son Heung-min sat in what appeared to be his London home, dressed in a sharp black suit. Center screen showed Luis Suárez from Madrid, relaxed in a polo shirt. And on the right—Rakim, his setup in Cologne, looking professional and polished.
"Oh my god, you're on TV!" Emma practically shouted, causing everyone to shush her immediately.
"This is being recorded, Em," Rakim said calmly, thankful they were muted. "They can hear you."
"Please contain yourself," Lisa said, though she was smiling too.
Reshmin's voice continued over the split screen. "Let's take a look at this year's finalists."
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[Puskás Award Montage]
The first clip began: Son Heung-min vs Burnley. The camera angle was from behind Tottenham's goal, showing the entire pitch. Son received the ball in his own half, just past the centre circle. What followed was seventy yards of pure individual brilliance.
He drove forward, beating one Burnley defender with a simple touch. Then another with a burst of pace. A third tried to foul him—Son rode the challenge, somehow staying upright. At the edge of the box, he cut inside past a fourth defender, creating space for his right foot. The finish was clinical, low and hard into the bottom corner.
The commentary played over it: "Son Heung-min... still going... still going... CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!"
Social media reactions appeared at the bottom of the screen: 87 million views. 4.2 million likes.
"That's ridiculous," May said quietly. "It takes good YouTubers months to ramp up those numbers on a video."
"Football fans are just crazy," Emma whispered to her, earning a light laugh before they focused on the following clip.
The second clip began: Luis Suárez vs Real Betis. It was a Long-range effort from thirty-five yards. Suárez received a pass with his back to goal, controlled it with one touch, turned, and struck it with his second. The ball flew like a missile, dipping and swerving past the goalkeeper's desperate dive.
Commentary: "SUÁREZ! WHAT A GOAL! ABSOLUTELY SENSATIONAL!"
Social media: 62 million views. 3.8 million likes.
"Classic Suárez," Ben said. "Killer instinct like that doesn't age."
"He's also having a good season so far at Atletico," Rakim commented as he thought of the players' achievements all over Europe.
Then came the third clip: Rakim Rex vs Wolfsburg. The camera captured him receiving the ball on the left wing, forty yards from goal. His first touch took him past one defender, using a simple feint and drag-back. His second was a simple tap through another defender's leg as he glided past.
He cut inside, three defenders converging—somehow, with a dizzying set of footwork, he glided between them, the ball seemingly glued to his feet. At the edge of the box, he shifted it onto his right foot with a subtle feint that sent the goalkeeper the wrong way. The finish was curled into the far corner past two defenders
who had backtracked to the line.
Commentary: "REX! OH MY WORD! THAT IS ABSOLUTELY OUTRAGEOUS! SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD AND HE'S JUST WALTZED THROUGH THE ENTIRE WOLFSBURG DEFENSE!"
The replay showed it from multiple angles—each one more impressive than the last. The close-up of his footwork, the aerial view showing the defensive line collapsing, the slow-motion of the ball nestling into the net. Social media: 94 million views. 5.1 million likes.
The screen returned to the split-screen of the three nominees. Reshmin appeared again, holding an envelope. "Three incredible goals, each representing the very best of what football can offer. Now, without further ado, the winner of the 2020 FIFA Puskás Award is..."
She paused for dramatic effect, the camera slowly zooming in on her face. The split screen showed all three nominees. Son sat perfectly still, hands folded in his lap. Suárez leaned forward slightly, his expression neutral. Rakim calmly sat on the sofa, feeling his hands being squished by the girls.
"Come on, come on," Emma muttered under her breath. Reshmin began to open the envelope, her movements deliberately slow. The production team had clearly been instructed to milk every second of suspense.
"The winner of the 2020 FIFA Puskás Award—" The screen froze.
Not intentionally—an actual technical glitch. Reshmin's face was locked mid-sentence, mouth half-open, the envelope partially revealed. The audio cut out completely. "Are you kidding me?" Emma said, leaning forward. "Right now? The WiFi dies RIGHT NOW?"
"It's not our WiFi," May said, checking her phone. "It's their stream. Look—" She showed her screen, where FIFA's official Twitter was already flooded with complaints about the technical difficulty. The TV screen remained frozen for five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.
Lisa's grip on Rakim's hand had become almost painful, but he didn't say anything. His eyes were fixed on the screen, waiting. Twenty seconds. Then the screen flickered, and Reshmin's voice returned mid-word.
"—is..."
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To Be Continued...
