Sitting alone at one of the lower stands, three hours proved to be rather short for me to figure out whatever I was feeling right now.

It was almost as if four emotions churned inside me, and they were all fighting to be my main default.

Not too long ago, I committed something that should have sent me packing. It kind of involved me getting in our coach’s face after I kicked his door open and asked him why... out of everyone on the team, it turned out to be me — the club’s own jewel — that was getting booted out.

You could only imagine how the manager looked because to me, he seemed like he was disappointed, shocked, and frustrated all at the same time.

Alejandro was even there, with no expression on his face other than the few times his eyes blinked. I wanted to lunge at him so bad, my blood still boiled just thinking about how close I was to doing it.

It was the other players who stopped me from doing anything. I didn’t even realize that Jamie was behind me until his hands locked around my waist, then several others joined in, and before I knew it, my body was weightless to the bunch heaving me off the office, while in the distance, a vaguely familiar voice reached out to me.

“Would like to see what you’re made of”

----------------------------

2:00 PM

A whole lot of reprimanding and apologies later, and the whole squad, plus the training staff, were now on the pitch, practicing our set-pieces. Based on tradition, every single player must attempt to score from a distance, and today was no exception. I waited last until each person had taken their turn, including Alejandro, who had just scored his, leaving me as the only one yet to play.

Speaking of the devil, he had just to be the one to set the ball in front of me, wasn’t he? The arsehole didn’t even hide the fact he was enjoying this, as I could still hear that smugness in his voice when he bent low, his eyes still up on me as he said

“Don’t miss, it is only 25 yards at the end of the day, right?”

I ignored him then and still refused to acknowledge his presence, even now as he stood beside me.

“Pfftt, I’ll show you what I am made of,” I mumbled to myself, then stepped back a bit – legs spread, with about seven of my teammates, all forming a horizontal line between myself and the goalpost.

I looked to the touchline to catch Coach Lannister’s eye, both watching me intensely as he nodded twice, mouthing a soundless “I could do it”.

Using that gesture as fuel for my spirit, I turned ahead, eyes closed, mumbling again about how this was my moment. I huffed and puffed slightly, fists clenching and unclenching, and right when my nerves were starting to calm, the idiot whispered in my ear.

“Are you sure you don’t want me playing this free kick. I mean, it looks a little far out, don’t you think?”

Again, I didn’t respond, but my feet did the talking – only taking one hard kick with the inside boot before the ball flew over the player’s head, then into the back of the net.

“GOAL!!”,

That word echoed around the facility, just before my name travelled across the ground while most of the players rushed toward me, for I’d never scored a free kick since my debut.

Not in training. Not in any match, and most importantly, not even come close during my poor run of form.

“Don’t let it get in the head, Amigo. You just got lucky”, A smooth hand tapped my nape before I was lost inside the eye of the stampede. Each teammate nudging, then passing me around the small circle they’d crowded me in.

I wanted to lose with myself with them. Enjoy the feeling of being tossed from one person to the other, but the ghost of Alejandro’s rough, yet textured callus never let me commit. Even when I smiled, laughed, and playfully let so many hands rough up my hair and jersey, the back of my mind was never at rest. It kept harboring one thought.

“I’d felt this before. I’d felt this before”.

Hours passed by, and if you’d asked about those hands again, well ... I would tell it was a distant memory because I was. On. Fire. The only problem, Alejandro was just ... better. If all my touches were crisp, his was as light as a feather.

When I would dribble past two, he would take on the entire team and still score. It got to the point where the memory of my amazing goal was starting to feel small compared to the magic he kept on displaying.

Plus, for some reason, whenever he would do some stupid trick (Which I didn’t think was cool), my eyes would always catch him glancing at me.

Sometimes, he would jog past me and heave out a rather annoying

“You could do better than that”, whenever I made a mistake or misplaced a pass. As you could guess, he was starting to flip that one switch, and just when I thought I couldn’t get enough of him, Coach Lannister finally helped a brother out. He put me and him on opposite teams for a 7 7-a-side game.

“You know you should have been in a load of trouble, if it wasn’t for me, right??”, He suggested, still brushing over the complaints I threw at him during our water break.

“What difference would it make? You are already planning to sell me??” I let my chest fall before I admitted that fact to him, hoping that as I said it out loud, dealing with the pain would be a lot easier ... It didn’t.

“That list is not 100% and you know it. Besides, you know the window is closing soon, there is no way the club will look to sell you now.”

“But they would be looking to sell the others”, I challenged his remark, anticipating his response, but when his face went straight with nothing to give, the truth hit like a gut punch.

And I just gave up…

I let my shoulders slump, the last bit of fight draining out of me as I turned away from him and started halfway across. My feet felt like cement and the cheers of the earlier free-kick had become a distant, hollow memory.

I didn’t even have to look up to know Alejandro was there, standing with the ball in front of him, that arrogant smug still in place.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” he hollered, his voice a low hum that was only meant for me. He didn’t have to say anything else. I knew exactly what he was talking about. He meant the total wash that was my career, the one that was about to find a new home in another Godforsaken club.

He passed the ball in my direction. “The coach is watching, Amigo. This game isn’t just for fun anymore. It's your last chance to show them what you’re made of.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowered to a whisper that felt like a threat. “If you don’t, I will.”

And by the sound of it, deep down in my gut, despite the playfulness in his voice, I knew he meant it.