The encounter

Act 1 scene 1

FECAFOOT headquarters.

(The president's office is opulent, decorated with football memorabilia. Samuel Eto'o is pacing behind his desk, visibly agitated. Marc Brys enters, looking apprehensive.)

Eto'o: (Slamming a file on the desk) You want to explain this, Coach?

Brys: (Startled) Mr President, is everything alright?

Eto'o: Alright? You call this performance alright? Can you do this in your country?

Brys: (Defensively) With all due respect, Mr. President, you were a player, a phenomenal player, but coaching is different.

Eto'o: In Belgium, maybe you can talk to your players any way you like. But here, in Cameroon, you show respect! You don't speak to the President like that!

Brys: (Scoffs) You have never been a coach.

Eto'o: (Furious) I have been a coach! A leader of men!

Brys: (Muttering) For three weeks...

Eto'o: (Exploding) Yes, and those three weeks were worth more than your entire career!

(A tense silence evade the room. Brys throws his hands up in exasperation.)

Brys: (Extending a hand shake) Congratulations!

Brys turns to leave.)

Eto'o: (Calling after him) Thank you! And if you ever cross that line again, don't even think of coming back

Brys: (Taking his hand back slowly) Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. But perhaps a little "heart-to-heart" is exactly what this team needed.

(Eto'o narrows his eyes)

Eto'o: What's that supposed to mean?

Brys: (With a sly smile) Just that sometimes, the best way to inspire a team is to show them what they're missing.

(Eto'o's face reddens.)

Eto'o: You... you planned this?

Brys: (Shrugs) Let's just say, I understand the power of a good performance.

(Eto'o lets out a frustrated groan. Brys throws him a mock salute.)

Brys: Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a team to prepare the next qualifiers. One that, hopefully, won't need a presidential pep talk to win Angolo.

(Brys turns to leave, then pauses at the door.)

Brys: Oh, and by the way, Mr President? Perhaps next time, consider a less... theatrical approach.

(Brys winks and exits, leaving Eto'o fuming behind his desk. The Director stifles a laugh.)

Eto'o: (Slamming his fist on the desk) Get me my phone! We need a new coach, and fast!

(The secretary raises an eyebrow, unable to hide a grin.)

Secretary: But Mr. President, what about the...?

(Eto'o throws the secretary a withering look)

(Brys exits, slamming the door behind him. Eto'o stands there, breathing heavily, then throws his head back and laughs. He strides to the window and looks out at the street.)

To be continued...