We at FIFFSA (Fédération Internationale de Fantaisie Football Scout Association) are delighted to announce the inaugural FIFFSA Five-A-Side World Cup is coming soon and we want YOU to play your part in the greatest show on earth.
We want players from across the globe, from across the Fantasy Football spectrum and from across time if necessary to assemble a side to compete for the ultimate prize.
Who is it for?
Anybody in the FFSscout community with an official FPL team. Whether this is your first season here or whether you’ve been playing Fantasy Football since the postal days, this competition is open to you.
How will it work?
The Five-A-Side World Cup is a tournament open to squads of six players who will field a team of five players each week, with one player on the substitute’s bench. A team’s score each week will be the sum of the FPL scores of the five players the team fields.
Each week, each team will go head to head against another team and the team with the highest aggregate score will win that match.
When does the tournament run?
The nations and their players will have until three days before the start of Gameweek 13, so Wednesday November 18th, to finalise their squads and for FIFFSA to finalise the tournament schedule according to the number of entrants.
The tournament will then begin in Gameweek 13 and finish at some point in the new year. There will be a break between gameweeks 18 and 20 to give us all time off over the Christmas period.
How are the teams picked?
At present there are number of FIFFSA Scouts who have already stepped forward to be a captain and they will be recruiting players immediately. However, anybody who thinks they can get a team together is welcome to step forward as a captain and recruit their own team.
If you have a team together, with at least five players but preferably six, please fill out this form to register your squad.
The countries to be represented will be allocated on a first come, first serve basis as captains volunteer themselves.
How do I join a team?
The easiest way to join one will be to get in touch with one of the captains still looking for team members either in the comments here or through their contact details in this spreadsheet.
If you are still unsure whether you’re a secret Spaniard, an undercover Ugandan or a concealed Columbian, we can help you to find some likeminded individuals for some Fantasy Football fun. If you fill out this form we can forward your details to captains and help you find a team.
If you have any further queries, feel free to ask below in the comments or email us at: fiffsa.exec@gmail.com
As a final request, please do try and keep FIFFSA 5-A-Side chat to the comment sections of our articles.
Enjoy the tournament, this is the FIFFSA 5-A-Side World Cup. Accept no imitations.
The FIFFSA Executive Committee,
President Sepp Balders, VP BabyB, VP Jaffalicious!, VP Diva, VP Blue Lion and Secretary General Jerome Cheeseoid.
8 years, 7 months agoI fought to suppress a rising tide of bile and panic as I forced my eyes to rest, one after another, on the huddled, crimson forms strewn around the shattered bodega. El Capitano Daas had told me it was a bad one; that the cartels and their sleaziest strongman, Il Seppo Grande, had called a new tune, and that the time had come to dance in earnest.
Daas had sent me here on my own while he reached out to the one man we feared almost as much as the cartels themselves, whom we knew by only one name: Zombie. Nobody knew what agency he worked for or where he came from, but every kind of law-enforcement on this side of the drug war knew him as a relentless and single-minded eater of cartel flesh. Meanwhile, I was here to meet some other new recruits, and explain to them what had happened here.
So what had happened? Picking through the charnel-house that was once a scene of convivial dissipation I found the first identifiable corpse, lying in a pool of haemorrhaged points: Ivanović. Of course there had been a target on his back for weeks but that didn’t make it any prettier smeared on my Derby brogues. Supine nearby were Pedro and Fabregas, again no surprise, but what caught my eye was a blood-soaked business card left on one of the meat-sacks: the unmistakable hammer and sickle. No longer an official symbol of the Russian Federation, it could only mean that we had been served by General Scabikov and his ex-KGB thugs.
But of course it didn’t end there. A gore-spattered Swiss Army knife jutting from the base of Daniel Sturridge’s skull announced the arrival of Diva and his ruthless Zürichdeutsch, carrying on the shameful tradition of Swiss murder-for-hire. A played-out roach with the girth of a cigar jammed in Raheem Sterling’s nostril (that hatty was too little too late) meant LateRiser and his Jamaican dred-heads were in on the lark; it even looked like Jock MacTerry’s Dug had hiked his leg on the hole where Martial’s torso used to be.
The one that threw me at first was what looked like a picture of Amy Winehouse, wedged into one of the violated orifices of Romelu Lukaku. It didn’t really look like her at first, but then I recognized the unmistakable coif of the “Dear Leader,” and I knew that Kim Pong Pinkfish had been.
A noise disturbed my reverie and I turned to see three figures filing in through what was left of the Bodega doorway. “Órale vato!” The voice was that of the one known as “the 12th Amigo,” one of the mercenaries I was waiting for. “Boys, I want you to meet El Eunuco Jalea! He’s a badass, trust me, even though nobody knows why he’s named after a wobbly spread with no balls. Jalea, meet Sjaugen and Raddy. Daas said you Federales needed some outside muscle, and take it from me, we don’t need no stinking badges!”
I knew all of these guys by reputation. These were our own kind of mercenaries: ice-cold killers with an abiding respect for abstinence from drugs, and the conviction that one should only get rich by exploiting people’s dependence on legal and taxable addictive substances like e-cigarettes and Corona Extra. I knew that, just as with Zombie, the fact that we had only death and blood to offer them would be an attraction. “You know the mission,” I said, “but now you need to know the opposition. This was not done by Mexican cartel henchman. Il Seppo Grande has brought in outfits from all around the world to raise the ante. These hit squads come from Korea, Colombia, Switzerland, Ireland, Canada (no, really) and other obscure places (I left out South Africa because, you know, #ProteaDire), and they are the scum of the game. We cannot beat all of them at once, but we will take them out one at a time.”
“So when do we start pendejos?” It was Zombie, coming through the door just ahead of El Capitano Daas. “I gotta Bony(c) ready to blow all over these pinche mercenarios!” My spirits started to rise. Daas had come through, and our hit squad was complete. Daas, Zombie, El Eunuco Jalea, Sjaugen, Raddy, and the 12th Amigo. Equipo de México was ready to dance.