104. A Man of His Word -1
The train that departed in summer passes through autumn, winter, and spring, arriving at its final destination just as summer begins again.
A full year from departure to arrival.
Throughout that long journey, the train advances toward the terminal without stopping.
Even if someone gets off, someone new gets on, or even if a wheel falls off... the train runs with what it has, as it has.
The train's final destination is the 38th station.
The train named Fiorentina that we boarded has finally arrived at that 38th station.
"Nice—!!"
"Great!"
"He always finds his form right when the season's ending. He really is a funny guy."
"But we still have one more match this time. There's somewhere to use him now."
While sitting on the bench wearing a coat, I clap for senior Sottil's last-minute goal that went in just before the match ended.
Judging by the time, I suspect this might be our team's final goal of the season.
Matchday 38, the final league match. Having brought Cagliari Calcio to our home, we currently lead 3-1, including the goal that just went in, as we approach the 90th minute.
I started the match but was substituted after playing only the first 45 minutes, watching the second half from the bench.
Since it was our final home match of the season, I wanted to play longer, but... I was subbed off mercilessly the moment I scored a goal.
If you ask what scoring a goal has to do with that... there is a reason.
I absolutely had to score one goal.
Honestly, I didn't care much about it.
My seniors cared more.
To the point where today's match objective wasn't victory, but me scoring a goal.
Thanks to that, everyone forced passes to me.
Well, anyway.
"Doesn't it feel strange? It's our final league match, but we still have one more game left."
"Right. Well, the schedule is part of it, but I can't remember the last time I postponed vacation until June."
The bench is noisy with the chatter of seniors waiting eagerly for the whistle to blow.
Even though it's an ending, the reason it doesn't feel like one is, of course, the Coppa Italia final in a few days.
Everyone looks excited that we get to play one more match; it shows just how much they love soccer.
I feel the same way.
It's somehow comforting that today isn't the end.
You could see it on the faces of the fans filling the stadium too; today, the atmosphere at Artemio Franchi was cozy.
"Next year it'll be longer. Everyone better prepare well."
"Yeah. I'm planning to work out a bit this summer."
"You haven't been working out until now?"
"I took about a month off completely."
"Honestly, isn't he the real genius? How he survives every time with that kind of self-management, I swear."
"Anyway, let's all prepare properly for next season. If you take it easy, you won't even last half of it before getting tossed out."
Everyone nods at Captain Biraghi's words.
Although the season isn't over yet, everyone is already preparing for next season.
We've confirmed qualification for the Champions League next season.
Although we failed to finish 2nd and had to settle for 3rd place.
Considering our first team finished 13th last season, and thinking about the fact that we've reached the Champions League, I think it's a pretty good result.
Of course, I'm already worried.
Not only struggling among Italy's geniuses, but now having to struggle to survive among Europe's geniuses.
For something started just to avoid being caught in a thoughtless lie, this seems to be getting too big.
But... it's different from before.
Seeing that I'm even looking forward to it, in a way.
"Okay, nice!"
"It's over!"
"Let's go, let's go!"
While I was lost in unnecessary solemnity alone, the seniors sitting on the bench rushed out all at once.
It seems the final whistle blew.
"Good work!"
"Good work, everyone."
I too go out wearing my coat and commemorate the final match by hugging the Coach, the coaches, and my teammates.
And, if it were any other day, I would have circled the pitch to greet the fans.
But today, there's an event prepared by the club, so everyone gathers in the center of the pitch.
I heard it's an event to commemorate the end of the season, but I don't know the specifics either.
"This way, please line up like this. Yes, like that."
While the Cagliari players have all left the pitch, and the fans remain in their seats.
We line up in a row according to the staff's guidance.
Soon, several cameras and microphones enter, and a large advertising board takes its place behind us as well.
Amid the general chaos, I simply stand among the seniors with my arms crossed as if watching someone else's business for a few minutes.
Soon, the owner of a familiar voice grabs the microphone, and the event begins.
"Eeeeh, Forza—!"
VIOLA—!!
"Forza—!"
VIOLA—!!
The stadium announcer who shouts our names every time we score raises the atmosphere with a powerful voice.
Around the time the sun is setting and darkness is falling.
As if they had promised, the fans turn on their phone flashlights, their appearance like a surging galaxy.
Aren't my eyes watching that also sparkling?
While gazing blankly at that beautiful sight, the stadium announcer continues with his eloquent words.
How many wins we achieved this season, how many goals we scored in total, and even when the most memorable moments were.
Thanks to the stadium announcer who goes over the past season in detail as if he had prepared for days on end, we look back on this season together with quite moved expressions.
We burst into laughter, furrow our brows, and clap our hands.
It really feels like so many things happened.
And so passes a rather enjoyable journey through time.
"Next, our master tactician! We invite Coach Vincenzo Italiano to the front!"
The microphone is then passed to the Coach.
At the stadium announcer's gesture, the Coach steps forward to cheers, and after blowing into the received microphone with a 'hoo-hoo' as if testing it, he looks around the stands and begins his speech.
"First, to our great fans who cheered for us throughout the season, I convey my gratitude. Forza, Viola!"
Beginning with words of thanks to the fans.
What we aimed for this season, what difficulties we faced, and how we overcame them, and so on.
With the league concluded, the Coach candidly lays out the thoughts he had been harboring alone for the past year.
"It's long, too long!"
"It's boring, Coach!"
As the speech seemed to drag on a bit, some seniors enjoyed a bit of rebellion.
They poured out jeers they wouldn't have dared to during the season, causing everyone to burst into laughter.
The voices of the seniors who got scolded by the Coach the most are the loudest.
In the midst of it all, I also quietly laughed with my hand over my mouth.
"The league is over, but our season still remains. We will surely grasp our final goal in our hands."
Soon, the rather long speech ends.
As the Coach tries to hand back the microphone and return to our side, the stadium announcer holds him back for a moment.
And shows the Coach a small piece of paper in his hand, whispering something.
The Coach, looking and listening carefully, soon nods and takes the microphone again.
"Ah, yes. I was about to head back in, but I heard there's a guest who has returned to Artemio Franchi after a very long time, so I thought I'd introduce them before going."
And with that, he openly reads the paper handed over by the announcer.
"It is a guest who has returned after a whopping 16 years. Where could they have wandered all that long time? Ending that long wandering, they have finally returned to our Florence, to Artemio Franchi."
A guest returning after 16 years.
Who could it be?
Whoever it is, I'm sure it's a face I don't know.
As I tilt my head in confusion, the Coach, having found a new calling, stretches his arm to one side and shouts.
"Allow me to introduce. The Capocannoniere, returned to our embrace after 16 years!"
The side where the Coach stretched his arm was the entrance we use to come onto the pitch, and all the lights gathered there.
At the same time, tremendous welcoming cheers and applause pour out from the fans...
The seniors push my back.
"Go out!"
"Get up front, maknae!"
Pushed like that, I stumble forward to the Coach, who laughs heartily and embraces me.
And together with the Coach wrapping his arm around my shoulder, I greet the guest walking in from the entrance.
It was a rather hefty, shining guest.
It was... a trophy about the size of my forearm.
"Please congratulate them! The 2021-2022 season! Serie A's best striker! The trophy symbolizing this season's top scorer has returned to Fiorentina! Everyone! Let's shout the name together!"
While I awkwardly hold that trophy, along with the powerful voice of the stadium announcer who has taken the microphone again... tens of thousands of fans shout the name.
"JIAN—!!"
"RI—!!!"
"JIAN—!!"
"RI—!!!"
"2021-22 Serie A top scorer! It's Ri!"
The moment everyone shouts my name, the Coach pushes me forward.
Holding the trophy in my hands, I step forward.
The spotlight shines on me.
And everyone looks at me.
My teammates clapping with proud expressions, the Coach, and the coaches.
And tens of thousands of fans...
It's incredibly... incredibly embarrassing, but perhaps because of the strong spotlight.
My vision goes white, and no thoughts come to mind.
I simply lift the trophy in my hands above my head, slowly turning around to show it to the fans in detail.
Funny enough, this is why everyone tried to create a goal for me today.
If I had scored just one more goal today, I would have reached 28 goals and become the sole top scorer.
I can't believe I scored 28 goals all this while.
I don't feel it at all, even though I scored that many, but...
"RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI!"
Hearing the fans chanting my name, I couldn't help but tense my shoulders.
Since Dad and Jiu must be among them... I raise the trophy above my head with the most solemn expression I can manage.
Then the cheers grow louder and louder... showing no signs of dying down.
This can't go on.
My arms hurt...
"Jian, it was an incredible season."
As my arms begin to go numb, fortunately, the stadium announcer puts his arm around my shoulder and speaks.
Ugh, my arms...
"Let me ask you honestly. This isn't an official interview, just a conversation among us, so speak comfortably. Did you ever imagine it? That you'd win the top scorer title in your debut season."
Perhaps taking into account my situation where both arms aren't free, the stadium announcer kindly holds the microphone in front of my mouth.
Imagine...
"I did."
"You did? Wow, I suppose a genius really is different. He says he imagined it."
I had imagined it.
Imagining lifting the trophy before everyone's eyes, before Dad and Jiu.
I probably did it every night before bed.
But I just never knew it would go beyond delusion and become reality.
"It seems you must be truly happy that imagination has become reality; may we hear your thoughts?"
Hmm... thoughts.
Honestly, I'm a bit out of it, so it doesn't feel real.
But saying I have no thoughts wouldn't do, because my teammates' expressions looking at me are too full of expectation.
Hmm.
Stringing together whatever words I can find, I answer.
"I'm just grateful. Simply... to my teammates, the Coach, and the coaches who looked after me when I was just a youth player. To the fans who taught me the power of support. I think it's wonderful to have brought this trophy to Florence, where there are such wonderful people."
I answered haltingly, pausing here and there to think, but judging by the fans' cheers growing louder, I seem to have answered fairly well.
Feeling needlessly proud, I smile without realizing it, and the announcer smiles along and nods.
In his eyes... for some reason, tears are welling up.
"Damn. It's moving. A top scorer produced by our Fiorentina after 16 years. We raised him. It's beautiful. Beautiful."
I did grow rapidly thanks to all the good food in Florence, so he's not wrong.
As a useless thought suddenly crosses my mind, the stadium announcer composes his voice and speaks.
"Now, truthfully, I'd love to throw a full-blown party. But since we still have one match remaining, we'll restrain ourselves today. That remaining match is a trophy-deciding match, and the opponent is the Nerazzurri."
He's talking about the Coppa Italia final, and the opponent being Inter.
"As a player representing Florence and Fiorentina, please say a word. Your determination for the final!"
Determination for the final... is simple.
I just want to win no matter what, that's all.
But I know the atmosphere isn't right for such a deflating answer... so after falling into thought for a moment, I answered.
I suddenly thought of the fruit shop owner.
"Well... I think you'll all need to prepare a lot."
"What kind of preparation?"
"You gave such a grand welcoming ceremony for a trophy that returned after 16 years... wouldn't you have to do even more to welcome the championship cup returning after 22 years..."
As I continue speaking, the already noisy stadium begins to get loud beyond the realm of common sense.
Worried my voice might be drowned out by the noise, I quickly add a word.
"I'll bring it to Florence."
I want to lift the championship cup that we can all hold together, rather than a trophy I receive alone.
Because... that would be a little less embarrassing.
< A Man of His Word -1 > End