The first official day of the National League North season felt less like a football match and more like the start of an impossible, slightly ridiculous, and profoundly terrifying adventure.
The scoreboard at Scarborough's ground was already lit up, a stark, digital testament to their challenge: APEX FC: -15 POINTS.
"It is a beautiful, philosophical statement," Biyon G. had declared that morning on the team bus, his voice full of a strange, infectious optimism. He was, of course, the new assistant manager, his leg propped up on the opposite seat, a high-tech brace where his football boot should be.
"We are not just playing for points. We are playing to create points from nothing. We are alchemists! We are turning the lead of our 'point deduction' into the gold of victory!"
"They're not lead, Biyon," Leon had replied, a tired but amused smile on his face as he looked over his tactical notes. "They're just... gone."
"A semantic distinction!" Biyon waved a dismissive hand.
