The Intimidator: Delwar

“A titan of the goal-line who treats his penalty area like a sacred temple and his opponents like intruders, Delwar is the brotherhood’s most terrifying guardian—a man who doesn’t just save shots; he steals souls like Shang Tsung from Mortal Kombat”

Last season he finished 10th, but let the record reflect the only stat that truly matters: he finished above Shahin and Suhel. For this commanding goalkeeper, that is a victory in itself. To play against him is to enter a psychological war zone; he is a master of the dark arts, constantly finding ways to win on and off the pitch like Mourinho. Whether he’s intimidating a striker with a lingering stare or “adjusting” the goalposts when no one is looking, he will do whatever it takes to get that edge.

His saves are so masterful they actually border on annoying—there is nothing the brotherhood hates more than a “worldie” save that denies a certain goal. In a bold tactical move, he has officially benched Andre Onana as his hero, choosing instead to channel the chaotic, legendary energy of the mighty Mark Bosnich.

Extremely passionate and perpetually unimpressed, he is also the league’s harshest critic; if the team selection isn’t exactly to his liking, he’ll let you know about it before a ball is even kicked. He’s back this year to dominate the box, crush the spirits of the opposition, and hopefully find a team sheet that actually meets his high standards.

Signature Move: The “Bosnich Barrier”—making a triple-save that defies logic, then immediately yelling at his defenders for letting the shot happen in the first place.

The Scouse Sentinel: Hamza

“A man who bleeds Liverpool red and leads with a passion that could power the stadium floodlights, Hamza is the beating heart of the brotherhood—a captain who demands perfection and delivers nothing less than pure fire.”

Last season was a journey of epic proportions. At the midway point, he was leading the pack, the trophy almost within his grasp… until the unthinkable happened. Much like his hero Stevie G, he watched the title slide away on goal difference, finishing 3rd in a heartbreak that still haunts his dreams. But does he wallow? No. He rises. Because a true leader doesn’t stay down; he just checks his studs and goes again.

On the pitch, he is the embodiment of intensity. While others play for fun, he plays for the badge, the history, and the sheer glory of the game. If he makes a goal-saving tackle or a 40-yard pinpoint pass, don’t expect him to celebrate—in the immortal, stony-faced words of Roy Keane, “That’s his job.” He is the vocal chord of the team, the tactical engine, and the man who ensures no one walks alone toward the final whistle. He’s back this season to exercise the horrors of the “slip” and prove that while goal difference is a cruel mistress, his passion is an unstoppable force of nature.

Signature Move: The “Anfield Ancestry”—a thunderous tackle followed by a 30-second motivational speech that leaves his teammates inspired and the opposition slightly terrified.

The Man, The Myth, The Wardrobe: Luthfur

“They say no man is an island, but when Luthfur steps between the posts, he becomes a fortress of high-fashion and impenetrable defense.”

Clad in a kit so sharp it could cut through the opposition’s morale, Luthfur doesn’t just arrive at the pitch; he makes an entrance. While the rest of the brotherhood rolls up in mismatched socks and stained t-shirts, Luthfur emerges like a pro-athlete ready for a Nike commercial—looking every bit the main man he was destined to be.

But don’t let the pristine gloves and the ‘Player of the Season’ swagger fool you—underneath that impeccable exterior beats the heart of a lion. A true force to be reckoned with, he commands his area with the authority of a king and the reflexes of a cat. To the brotherhood, he is more than just a goalkeeper; he is our well-dressed guardian, a titan in neon, and the only man brave enough to dive into a muddy puddle while looking like a million dollars.

Signature Move: The “Look-at-the-Kit” Save—where he stops a certain goal and immediately checks to make sure his hair stayed perfectly in place.

The Ageless Architect: Nurul

“A man who defies the laws of physics and the concept of time, Nurul is the brotherhood’s living masterpiece—a player whose touch is so sumptuous it belongs in the Louvre, right next to the masterpieces of the great Dennis Bergkamp.”

They say legends are born, not made, but in Nurul’s case, we aren’t actually sure when he was born. With a birth certificate that remains a mysterious blank page, he is our very own ageless wonder—a timeless talent who treats the 6v6 pitch like a canvas for his “poetry in motion.” As the patriarch of the dynasty (brother to the Royal Ruhel and uncle to the Luthfur/Saifur duo), he is the spiritual glue of the brotherhood.

Last season may have ended in a 9th-place finish, but those who witnessed his late-season winning streak know the truth: he wasn’t losing, he was simply “curating” his form. It was too little, too late for the trophy cabinet (empty for a while like Arsenal), but just right for the highlight reel. An avid Arsenal fan and a devoted student of the game, Nurul doesn’t just run; he glides, weaving magic with every move and channeling the ghost of Highbury in every pass.

Sure, he might miss a few games a season (legends need their rest, after all), but his return is a cultural event. He brings a level of artistry that makes us forget the scoreline and simply marvel at the man who can control a ball better than most of us can control our own lives.

Signature Move: The “Non-Flying Dutchman”—a touch so delicate and a turn so smooth that you’d swear you were watching Bergkamp himself, if Bergkamp also occasionally had to stop to catch his breath.

The Algerian GOAT: Reda

“A whirlwind of Berber magic and North African flair, Reda doesn’t just play football; he conducts a masterpiece of movement and mockery that leaves defenders questioning their life choices.”

He is the best there was, the best there is, and the best there ever will be—the undisputed Algerian GOAT of the brotherhood. Reda is a true professional who treats the 8:00 PM kick-off like a Champions League final, never arriving a second late and never stepping onto the turf with anything less than 101% energy. He possesses an uncanny, almost supernatural ability to find space in a 6v6 pitch that shouldn’t exist, popping up like a ghost in the box just when the opposition thinks they’re safe.

Last season, he put in a performance for the ages, but in a tribute to his beloved Arsenal, he managed to “bottle” the title at the final hurdle, finishing a heartbreaking second. It was a strong showing, but for a man of Reda’s ambition, silver is just the first loser. He has spent the off-season fueled by that pain, sharpened by his tireless quest to nutmeg every single soul who dares to stand in his way.

Twelve weeks from now, we will know if the prophecy is fulfilled. Will he finally lift the trophy, or will he provide us with another season of “Top 4” comfort? One thing is for certain: his legs never stop, his heart never fades, and your legs are never safe from a nutmeg.

Signature Move: The “North African Tunnel”—a lightning-fast nutmeg followed by a shrug of the shoulders that says, “It’s just what I do.”

The Royal Fortress: Ruhel

“A man who defends the goal as if he’s guarding the Crown Jewels, Ruhel is the immovable object of the brotherhood—a powerhouse of class who proves that while form is temporary, the ‘Salaam Cola’ spark is forever.”

After a rock-solid 5th-place finish last season, Ruhel has cemented his reputation as the league’s most professional “machine.” He is a no-nonsense throwback to the golden age of defenders; a brick wall in the mold of Tony Adams that simply refuses to crack. If you try to dribble past him, be prepared to leave something behind—usually the ball, and occasionally your dignity (or a shin bone). He is a man who understands that in the brotherhood, “safety first” means “opposition second.”

The rumors of his Royal Family lineage continue to swirl through the locker room, and frankly, looking at his regal composure on the pitch, we believe them. But the real secret to his success isn’t a palace—it’s his diet. Since making the switch from Coca-Cola to Salaam Cola, Ruhel has found a new lease of life, patrolling the defensive line with an explosive energy that suggests he has a jet engine hidden in his boots.

He is the ultimate teammate: classy, professional, and terrifyingly efficient. This is the man you’ll be telling your grandkids about—the day you saw a member of “Royalty” put in a slide tackle that shook the very foundations of the sports center.

Signature Move: The “Sovereign Shutdown”—a tackle so clean and so firm that the opponent actually apologizes for being in his way.

The Smiling Sniper: Saif

“A man who has mastered the art of doing the absolute most with the absolute least movement, Saif is the undisputed King of the Camping Spot and the deadliest toe-poker in the brotherhood.”

If loyalty had a face, it would be smiling back at you from the halfway line. The most reliable man in the league, he is always available, never misses a battle, and lives for the beautiful game. Last season, he burst out of the gates like a champion, and while a 7th-place finish might suggest a mid-season slump, those who were there know the truth: he was simply giving the rest of the league a head start out of pure kindness.

As a striker, he has revolutionized the “Camping” strategy—staking his claim in the opposition’s box and refusing to leave until the job is done. He doesn’t need 30-yard screamers or flashy stepovers; he is the master of the Renowned Toe Poke, a surgical strike that finds the bottom corner before the keeper even realizes the game has started.

But his true heroism shines when duty calls; though he starts the game hunting for goals, he inevitably ends up between the sticks, guarding the brotherhood’s honor in goal. Whether he’s poking in a winner or palming away a strike, he does it all with a permanent, infectious smile that says, “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Signature Move: The “Hedgehog Strike”—a zero-backlift toe-poke from a stationary position that leaves the defender wondering if the ball moved by telekinesis.

The Silent Heir: Saifur

“Bound by the blood of legends and forged in the fire of the brotherhood’s most prestigious dynasty, Saifur is the quiet storm that the opposition never sees coming until it’s far too late.”

While his brother Luthfur is busy commanding the spotlight and checking his kit, Saifur exists in the calm at the center of the hurricane. As the nephew of the great Nurul and Ruhel, he carries the weight of a footballing empire on his shoulders, yet he doesn’t utter a single word. He doesn’t need to. He lets his boots do the talking, whispering sweet nothings into the back of the net and shouting his presence through sheer, relentless consistency.

After a mid-table finish last season, Saifur isn’t just back on the pitch—he’s on a mission of redemption. He is the “Man with No Name” of 6v6 football; a stoic warrior with footballing DNA coursing through his veins, ready to prove that while he might be the younger brother, his hunger for glory is second to none. He’s not here for the banter; he’s here for the three points and the honor of the family name.

Signature Move: The “Silent Sting”—winning the ball, making the perfect pass, and jogging back to his position before anyone realizes he was even there.

The Lightning Bolt: Shahin

“A human highlight reel with a drop of the shoulder that breaks ankles and a competitive streak that breaks friendships, Shahin is the ‘Cheat Code’ of the brotherhood.”

If football is a game of chess, this man is playing with a flamethrower. An electrifying young talent who treats the opposition like training cones, he doesn’t just want to win—he wants to dribble past you so many times you have to pay admission to get back into the game. He is the first name on every captain’s draft list, a tactical nuclear option so powerful that you could play with five men and still feel like you have an unfair advantage.

However, every superhero has their dark chapter. Last season was a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions as he sat on the sidelines, sidelined by injury, watching his stats gather dust. To the horror of the fans (and his own ego), he finished second from bottom—a result so disgraceful to his natural talent that it’s rumored the league trophies actually wept.

But the “medical miracles” (and those suspicious performance-enhancing supplements) have done their work. He’s back, he’s hungry, and he’s fueled by a burning desire to erase last year’s shame. Most of all, he’s back to settle his eternal, legendary beef with Hamza. Their rivalry is the stuff of 6v6 folklore—a clash of titans that makes El Clásico look like a friendly kickabout.

Signature Move: The “Revenge Stepover”—a dizzying display of footwork that says, “I’m back, I’m healthy, and Hamza is still in my pocket.”

The Shaharpara Strategist: Shamz

“They say some players play the game, but Shamz? Shamz owns the lease, the floodlights, and the very air the opposition breathes.”

Last season wasn’t a league competition; it was a coronation. Winning by not one, not two, but six clear points, Shamz left the other 11 players in a state of psychological ruins. His form—winning 10 out of 12 games—didn’t just remind us of the “good old days” of Manchester United; it made Sir Alex Ferguson look like an amateur. The margin of victory was so suspiciously dominant that the brotherhood is still calling for a FFP investigation—because surely, talent this high-end must be a breach of the rules.

Bringing that unmistakable Shaharpara class to the pitch, Shamz has revolutionized the very concept of “cardio.” While others sprint frantically like headless chickens, Shamz has redefined movement, proving that if your mind is in the 22nd century, your legs can stay firmly in the 20th. He moves at a pace that can only be described as “stately,” yet he still opens up defenses like a tin of baked beans—effortless, messy for the opponent, and strangely satisfying to watch.

Legend has it that last season, his aura was so powerful he was winning games without even touching the ball. He is the silky-skilled architect of our era, a man who knows that in the brotherhood of 6v6, speed is temporary, but the class of Shamz is permanent.

Signature Move: The “Invisible Checkmate”—standing perfectly still for three minutes, only to deliver a no-look pass that ends a defender’s career.

The Fallen Phoenix: Suhel

“A man whose passion burns brighter than a flares in the Stretford End, Suhel is the brotherhood’s most tragic hero—a legendary talent currently trapped in a Manchester United-esque nightmare, yet still capable of moments that belong in the history books.”

Last season was, quite frankly, a statistical anomaly of heartbreak. Suhel finished at the bottom of the pile, looking up at everyone else—literally everyone. With a goal difference of minus 29 and only two wins to his name, he technically suffered the ignominy of relegation; however, the Brotherhood realized there simply isn’t a league in the world worthy enough (or brave enough) to take him, so he remains in the top flight by popular demand.

It was a season so bleak it would make Erik ten Hag weep, but let’s look at the silver lining: he finished level on points with the injured Shahin! While it’s true that his “unwanted” status in the team drafts last season was a blow to the soul, Suhel is a hardcore United fan—he was born in the “Glory, Glory” era and he knows that the comeback is always greater than the setback.

He was once a truly wonderful player, a titan of the pitch whose name was whispered in awe. And honestly? Even in his “relegation” form, the fans still want to pay to watch him play. Why? Because every now and then, the old magic returns, and Suhel unleashes a trademark banger that reminds us all: Class is permanent, but a minus 29 goal difference is just a temporary clerical error.

Signature Move: The “Old Trafford Resurrection”—scoring a 25-yard screamer out of absolutely nowhere, then celebrating with a look of deep, passionate melancholy.

The Moroccan Mercury: Zinedine

“Carrying a name of destiny and a pair of lungs that simply refuse to quit, Zinedine doesn’t just play the game—he glides through it at a speed that makes the rest of us look like we’re running through golden syrup.”

A true son of the brotherhood and heir to the throne of a former legend, Omar Bai, Zinedine arrived on this earth with two things: a Moroccan flair for the dramatic and a biological clock that ensures he is never a second late for kick-off. While we’re all huffing and puffing, Zinedine is busy honoring his namesake, turning the pitch into his personal dance floor with a grace that is, frankly, offensive to the average casual player.

He is so fast, he’s often finished his post-match analysis before we’ve even reached the final whistle. Sometimes he’s so good it feels like he’s playing a different sport—one where gravity and fatigue don’t exist. To play with him is an honor; to try and mark him is a fast track to a dizzy spell. He doesn’t just live up to the name Zinedine; he gives the legends of the past a run for their money (literally).

Signature Move: The “Flash of Morocco”—appearing out of nowhere to steal the ball, score a goal, and check his watch before you can even say “Bai.”