Stuart raised both eyebrows. Then he took a quick glance up to the balcony of the owner's suite. Victor and Anna were standing at the railing. Stuart thought he could see a smile on Victor's face but turned away before making eye contact.
Working together, Aleks and Peter stopped wave after wave of Malmo attacks, anticipating their movement and stepping together to intercept passes. Just as quickly, they pinged the ball between them until they were just outside the box where they let their three teammates in front finish off the goals. When the final whistle blew, the inexperienced bunch from the upstart academy in small-town Finland had soundly beaten the seasoned, big city Swedish machine by six goals.
After they shook hands and sent their opponents back to their bus with heads down and tails between their legs, Stuart called his boys over.
"Impressive, lads. You obviously took to heart what we talked about at the last training session about communication and playing together as a unit. Still plenty of things to work on but a good start. Let's warm down and call it a day," said Stuart. "Where's Borg?"
Peter had stayed near the middle of the field. He stared at his feet as he walked in circles, shaking his head as if he had just emerged from the pool, trying to shake the water from his ears. Then he leaned over with his hands on his knees and vomited. The sequence repeated several times, a rattle of the head then more vomiting. Benny ran over to his side.
"Dude, what's going on?" said Benny, placing his hand on Peter's bent-over back.
Peter lifted his head to reply but could only give his lifelong friend an empty, confused look. Then another convulsion and gag, but this time only a dry heave. Benny motioned to Stuart, who sent the trainer over to help Peter. Given the sudden dizziness and nausea, the trainer kneeled down so he could check Peter's pupils. By then, Stuart and several players had made their way over to them.
"What is it?" Stuart asked the trainer.
"Vomiting, dizziness, and one dilated pupil."
"Concussion?"
"From these symptoms, I'd say yes."
"But he wasn't hit in the head?" said Stuart, looking at Benny then the rest of the team.
"I didn't see anything," said Benny.
The others shrugged and shook their heads.
"Borg, did you get hit in the head?" asked Stuart, bending down to speak directly in his ear.
Again, Peter responded with no answer but a gaunt, vague stare at his coach.
"OK, get him into medical," said Stuart. "Have Dr. Lehtinen take a look."
Benny and Harry each took an arm and helped Peter off the field.
"Lads, get something to clean this mess up," said Stuart as he pulled out his phone and shot a text to Anna. "Peter Borg may have a concussion. He's heading to Medical now."
Anna and Victor stepped back into his office with mixed feelings.
Before heading down to check on Peter, she attached her tablet to the center overhead screen. A dashboard of graphs and tables flashed before them.
"They looked sharp," said Victor, trying to stay positive after watching Peter.
"Yes," said Anna. "I need to get downstairs, but I'll leave you with this data."
Anna clicked a few times, resulting in a display of the players in their positions on the field connected with lines to each other. Attached to the lines were numerical scores from one to one hundred.
"What is this?" asked Victor scanning the screen.
"This is their cognitive cohesion score, a measure of how well they connected as a team. As you can see, some player combinations are stronger than others," said Anna.
"And those are our experimentals?" asked Victor pointing to the player icons highlighted in blue.
"Yes, performing as we hypothesized," said Anna. "Our goal is to raise their collective score above 90."
"What's next?" asked Victor.
"We can help them learn about their opponents and remember Coach Pennington's game plan strategy," said Anna. "These initial numbers look good, but I'll download more within the hour and get a full analysis for you."
"Send a copy to Dmitry," said Victor as he thumbed a message on his mobile.
"A copy of what?" said Anna with a look of concern.
"Your report. Whatever you send to me, copy him on it," said Victor without looking up.
Anna processed the request and her reply before speaking.
"Victor, we agreed on this data as confidential within the team. I'm not OK with sharing this with an outside person," she said, peering directly at him.
Victor returned her gaze quickly.
"Dr. Lehtinen, Mr. Bogdanov is not an outsider. As I have reminded you, he is a major investor in this club and a member of our board. If I say he's in the loop, then he's in the loop."
Anna looked away and nodded. After a moment of silence, Victor softened his tone.
"Anna, I trust Dmitry. He may seem a bit dark, but this project is his dream too. It is why he brought two of his players here. We're just trying to build a winning team. And your technology is the competitive advantage we need."
Anna stared at the overhead monitor showing a small profile photo of each player above their icon.
"I understand. But we're still dealing with 18-year-old boys, not robots. They have a right to privacy," said Anna. “The further we spread out this data, the less control we have.”
Victor walked towards Anna and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"They want what we want, to win. If we win, they become rich and famous. That's why they are here," said Victor. Then with a gleam in his eye, he mused, "And adding a little more robot to them will only speed up the process."
Skeptical, Anna disconnected her tablet from the monitor.
"We're sending data to Dmitry, but we're still not making Coach Pennington aware of the program?" she asked.
"We'll bring in Stuart when the time is right," said Victor, turning his attention back to his phone. "I want him to coach the team like he always would with no second-guessing about the learning process. As you explained to me, this is merely giving the players a boost in their cognitive game."
"A quite powerful boost that we're not yet sure of the full effects," answered Anna as she pointed down to the field. “I had asked for a slower, more controlled rollout.”
"Enough, Anna," said Victor, dropping his hands and looking up at her. "I need you to stop worrying and proceed with the plan. It is your plan, after all."
Anna remained silent as she turned towards the door to leave.
"Send us those results," said Victor. "And let me know about Borg."
14
When Anna arrived at the exam room, Peter was sitting up looking weak but coherent.
"Hello, Peter. How are you feeling?" asked Anna.
"Very strange," said Peter. "I'm having trouble focusing."
"You mean you have blurry vision?"
"No, like I can't concentrate. My brain is going a million miles an hour," said Peter gesturing with his hands circling his head.
Instead of the outdated assessment protocol for concussions like asking the patient to follow her finger around in a circle, questions about his location, and other archaic techniques, Anna placed an EEG headset over Peter's wavy blond hair. After connecting the cables to a transmitter box, she swiped open her tablet and waited for the readout of brainwaves on her screen. Peter continued to shake his head every few seconds as if trying to turn off the noise buzzing in his brain.
"Please try to stay still, Peter," said Anna. She put one hand briefly on his shoulder, then resumed tapping through screens of data.
His eyes darted around the room while his conscious mind focused its efforts on keeping his head motionless. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, running down into his eyes, causing him to blink them away. He wished he could be out on the field, burning up all of this stored energy. He felt his heart pounding as if he had just finished a set of sprints.
"Just a few seconds more, Peter," said Anna looking up at him. "Then you sho
uld feel better."
And she was right. It was like standing next to railroad tracks while a freight train thundered by, then suddenly it was past, with only the blinking red light of the last car fading into the distance. The palpitations subsided, his breathing relaxed, and he could think again.
"Better?" asked Anna.
"Yeah. Much better," said Peter, letting go of a big sigh while relaxing his neck and shoulders. "What the hell was that?"
"Well, you experienced a type of brain seizure where many of your neurons were firing randomly or out of sequence. This can cause confusion and that sense of overstimulation you mentioned," said Anna.
"Will this happen again?" asked Peter.
"It's possible, but I wouldn't worry about it," said Anna smiling and taking off the EEG net. "I will update Coach Pennington. You're free to go back to your dorm now."
Peter stood up slowly, testing his balance before taking a step. He paused to appreciate the peace and calm in his head. He smiled and nodded to Anna as he left the exam room.
Anna's eyes glanced up to watch him walk out the door. Then she sat back in her chair and squinted, considering her next step. Something had gone wrong, but she could not tell Victor or Stuart until she had figured it out. She unlocked her phone and sent a group text to Werner and Jami.
"Please review Peter Borg's data from today. We need to talk."
Karen Borg looked down at her buzzing phone, smiled, then answered quickly.
"Peter! How are you?!"
"Hi, Mom. Pretty good, how are you?"
"Oh, we're fine. It's so nice to hear from you. I was just emptying laundry baskets upstairs and thought of you," said Karen.
"You thought of me while emptying laundry baskets?" said Peter.
"Just that there's so much less laundry without you home," said Karen. "So, how is it? Are you enjoying it?"
"Sure, it's great. Learning lots of stuff. It's a cool place. Is Dad home?"
"On another trip, as always. He's in New York today, then heading over to Europe," said Karen.
"Any chance he can visit? We have a huge tournament coming up in Stockholm, Sweden, next week."
"Well, I'll let him know. But I wouldn't get your hopes up. His trips are usually booked solid."
"Yeah, I know."
"How's Benny? Is he behaving over there?"
"C'mon, you know Benny. He's always up to something. But, he's fine," said Peter.
"What's wrong?" said Anna.
"Nothing, why?"
"Your voice doesn't have that usual Peter pep in it," said Karen.
"Sorry, it's just been a busy week. I'm tired," said Peter.
"Peter Borg, you know you can't fool me. Tell me what's the matter," said Karen.
Peter peered out of his dorm window towards the playing fields below. He could see the sideline where he doubled over in pain but could only remember it as an out-of-body moment. He had no internal memory or mind's eye recollection of the whole episode or seizure as Dr. Anna had labeled it.
"Well, I just got a little sick at the end of a scrimmage today. But the doctor checked me out, and I feel better now."
"Did you eat something you shouldn't?" asked Karen. "Benny didn't make you more of his jalapeño nachos, did he?"
"No, I won't go near those ever again," said Peter with a forced chuckle. He paused. "No, this was all in my head. Doctor Anna said it was kind of a seizure."
Karen bit her lip and took a big breath.
"Did she say what kind? Were you hit on the head, like a concussion?"
"No, she didn't really say. One minute I was dizzy and getting sick, and my head felt like it would explode. Then she put one of those EEG nets on me and did some stuff on her tablet. And then everything was good, like nothing had happened."
"This Dr. Anna, is she the team doctor?" asked Karen.
"Well, I guess so," said Peter. "She’s actually a neurosurgeon and has been working with us on some stuff. It's part of the academy's training."
"Peter, I'd like to talk with her if that's OK with you," said Karen.
Peter could hear the change of tone in his mom's voice.
"Mom, it's no big deal. I'm fine now. She said it probably won't happen again," said Peter. "Actually, I have to head out. I just called to say hi."
"OK, but please take care of yourself. And let me know if this happens again. Deal?"
"Deal."
"I love you, Peter."
"I love you too, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me."
Karen ended the call and immediately texted her husband.
"Peter just called. He had a bad headache or seizure at practice today. Just FYI, but I'm concerned."
A moment later, Sam's reply buzzed her phone.
"Is he OK now?"
"Yes, but I'm going to get in touch with their team doctor."
"Please don't. They are perfectly capable of handling it. It would only embarrass Peter," texted Sam.
"Aren't you worried?"
"No, I'm not. We need to let Peter grow up and handle his own issues."
Karen let Sam's last message hang there unanswered. She stepped out onto the back patio for some fresh air. Then she dialed another number.
"Hello."
"Eddie, its Karen Borg, how are you?"
"Great, Karen, how are things?"
"A little lonely over here with Peter gone and Sam's on the road this week," said Karen.
"How's Peter doing? Have you heard from him?" said Eddie as he put the call on his Jeep's speakerphone.
"Actually, I just got off the phone with him. He's doing OK."
"Just OK?"
"Well, that's the reason for my call. He let me know about an episode he had today. Dizziness, upset stomach, and some confusion."
"Hmm, sounds like a concussion."
"That's what I thought, but the doctor, actually a neurosurgeon, diagnosed it as a seizure of some type."
"They have a neurosurgeon as their doctor?"
"Apparently. But Peter mentioned she cured the seizure by putting an EEG skull cap on him and then entering something on her tablet computer."
"That sounds more like a science fiction than soccer," said Eddie turning into his usual spot in the school parking lot.
"That's what concerns me, Eddie. And I could hear it in Peter's voice. He just wasn't himself," said Karen.
Eddie put the car in park and paused before responding.
"Is there something I can help with?" he asked.
"I don't know. I just needed someone to talk with about this. Sam just tells me to stay out of it."
"But you're his mother."
"I know, but he wants Peter to handle these things on his own," she said. "Peter mentioned they have a tournament coming up in Stockholm next week. I know this is sudden, but..."
She composed herself, trying to make her offer sound enticing.
"Would you have any interest in going over there? I would pay for everything."
"Well, that's quite an offer, Karen. Unfortunately, I don't think next week will work for me. I think the boys are in good hands over there. You and Sam have nothing to worry about."
Karen's heart sank. She knew it was a lot to ask but had no one else to turn to. Eddie's pause before answering gave her hope. Perhaps he just needed to think about it.
"Well, first, Sam agrees with you. But my mom instincts tell me something's not quite right."
“Doesn’t Sam go to Europe on business a lot? Maybe he could stop in at the tournament?”
“He says he might, but he usually doesn’t have time. Peter would not appreciate his mom showing up either.”
“I can’t say he’d prefer his old high school coach there either,” said Eddie. “Maybe give it another few days and check in with him."
"OK, I will. But please let me know if you change your mind. The tournament starts on Wednesday and goes through the weekend," said Karen.
"Will do. Please say hi to Peter for me," said Eddie. He disconnected the call and turn
ed off the engine. He stared out his windshield at the Linden trees swaying above the game field. He shook his head and climbed out of the Jeep.
Karen sat back in her patio chair. She looked over at the miniature soccer goal gathering weeds in the corner of the yard. Those were simpler times. Just a boy, kicking a ball. Now that boy was a young man. But she was still his mom. And her maternal instincts were flashing red that something was wrong.
15
Just outside Peter's dorm room, the rest of the recruits were strewn across the semi-circular couch. They were all playing the latest version of Top90, the soccer video game that had become a global infatuation among teens from Helsinki to Helena to Hiroshima. On the holographic fields that floated in between them, they used only hand gestures to move the players. But they struggled to adapt to a world without the plastic controllers they had grown up with. Only Toshi had seen the new technology, as a guest at the Tokyo Game Show last Fall. Fulcrum, the game's developer, allowed the public to try it out for a few minutes within their enormous booth.
That same day, Victor Niemi dined with his old friend, Masahiro Kato, Minister of Economy, Trade, and Industry and the Japanese government's liaison to the high-tech world. He asked Kato to persuade Fulcrum to name FC Kotka as the official beta site and one of the first in the world to use the technology.
Now, six months and several million euros later, the game was in the hands of his Kotka recruits. Shifting paradigms was Victor's modus operandi. Most billionaire club owners accept the status quo, following the same time-worn process of team building.
Just as he had done in the private satellite business, Victor sought science and technology as the lever that would propel him past his static peers. A few handshakes and promises were all it took to bring this latest bit of applied science to his team. While Stuart trained his recruits in traditional soccer knowledge, Victor's acquisitions, from video games to Anna's research, would shorten the learning curve dramatically.
The Playmaker Project Page 8
