It might sound a bit awful, but I’m basically someone who can’t easily trust people.
If you ask me since when… it’s hard to say exactly when it started.
I think it was probably ever since I started life with the football team.
Then why did I become like that?
Well.
This is just a guess too, but maybe it’s because I myself told a lot of lies to begin with.
Since I was the one telling so many lies, I couldn’t easily believe whether what other people said was sincere or not.
Wondering if this person is lying just like me, thinking *it’s definitely a lie*—suspecting first like that was my bad habit.
Then if you ask why I ended up lying so much… it’s just,
Maybe my personality itself is just rotten.
But if I had to offer one excuse, um… I got scolded a lot ever since I was young.
But when did I mainly get scolded? When I honestly spoke my feelings.
That’s when I mainly got it.
For example, not long after entering elementary school, I said I didn’t want to go to school and got scolded.
I said no when asked if I got along with my friends, and got scolded.
I said I was too nervous and had no confidence before a match, and got scolded for that too.
Well, thinking back now, they were all things worth getting scolded for.
Of course, if it were me, I would have said something to my son too.
However, since I got scolded every time I spoke honestly like that… naturally, I started lying more and more.
I wanted to say I didn’t want to do it, but knowing I’d get scolded if I did, a lie like “I’ll give it a try” would pop out instead.
I wanted to say it wasn’t very fun, but a lie saying it was fun would pop out instead.
When asked, *Our son, you can do it, right?*… I wanted to say *I don’t think I can*, but those words wouldn’t come out.
Still, the fortunate thing was that after telling those lies, I got scolded less often.
There was nothing much to be scolded for.
Because if I just told those lies and acted accordingly, everything was perfect.
Since there was no problem as long as I just endured a bit, there was nothing I couldn’t do just because it was a lie.
Right.
That’s how it was.
That’s how it had been.
So I developed the habit of suspecting what other people said first.
And honestly, that hasn’t changed even now.
They say people don’t change easily, and it’s not for nothing.
My surroundings, my position… so many things have changed unimaginably compared to before, but
my bad habit of not being able to trust people easily was the one thing I couldn’t throw away.
But thinking about it, that’s why it was strange.
Even someone like me… I had never once suspected what Jiu said first.
“Yo, you look like you’re in great condition!”
“…?”
“What’s this, what’s this. Are you eating something good lately? Don’t be stingy eating it alone, tell me too! Why are you grinning like that?”
I was doing adductor stretches, lifting my knee and rotating it in circles from outside to inside,
when Romero, who had trotted along after me, tapped my side and asked.
…Had I been grinning?
Come to think of it, the muscles near my cheekbones did feel slightly tight.
I quickly dropped my grin and shot Romero a needless glance.
“You seem to be in better condition.”
“Hehe. Did I get caught?”
Then Romero smiled an incomparably happy smile, and seeing that face, I couldn’t help but crack a smile.
Ah, actually, in the last match.
After the game ended, an incredible battle of wits had taken place.
The reason, well, it was because of Messi’s jersey.
Over who would get the glory of swapping jerseys with him, everyone pretended not to care, but I could see them subtly eyeing the situation.
Anyway, as you could tell just by Romero’s expression now, the winner was Romero.
Since they had let victory slip away just minutes before the end of the match anyway, the other seniors had still been a bit cautious,
but this guy threw caution to the dogs and sprinted at full speed to hand over his jersey first.
Even if I were Messi, I would have had no choice but to tell him to follow me to the locker room.
Hmm.
Actually, I didn’t show it, but I was a bit envious.
Romero was Romero, but I couldn’t muster any courage to approach, so I just watched from afar.
I heard Messi doesn’t ask to swap jerseys first.
“So I’m asking why you seem to be in such a good mood. Huh?”
I shrugged at the persistently asking Romero.
“There’s no reason to feel bad.”
“Don’t tell me God blessed you separately too? Is that it!?”
“…I don’t have the courage to go to the opposing team’s locker room like you after letting victory slip away so regrettably.”
“Hehe, really? So you were jealous of me after all! Courage is just something you have to show! It’s not hard!”
…I think I was honest enough that it could barely be called beating around the bush.
I scratched my head at Romero’s grinning face, but on the other hand, I also felt envious of that.
Unlike me, who twists everything into a negative light, Romero is the opposite.
He hears everything positively and brightly.
Because of that, sometimes… honestly, not sometimes but often, Romero gets called tactless, but Romero is always just happy.
“Hehe.”
“Hehehe. Hehehehe!”
Because Romero laughed so brightly that I couldn’t help but laugh along, I also made a stupid smile.
Then Romero one-upped me with an even bigger laugh.
When I asked why Jiu treated me so well and how I could repay that gratitude, Jiu said:
Just play the football you love with all your heart, and just show me you winning and being happy. That’s enough.
If it had been someone else’s words, I wouldn’t have believed them.
Giving so much yet not wanting any reward in return—I would have been unable to stop suspecting that there must definitely be some ulterior motive.
But if it’s Jiu’s words, it doesn’t sound like a lie to me.
Especially praise—if someone else did it, I wouldn’t believe it even if I died, but if it’s Jiu’s praise, I just feel good, so…
At Jiu’s words that I just need to be happy, I decided to do just that.
“You punks. What’s so funny?”
Since Romero and I were laughing foolishly, the captain, who had come out with a yoga mat, tilted his head.
At that, we just laughed again.
“Hehe.”
“Hehehehehe!”
Laughing made me feel good.
⋅⋅⋅
September, especially the first and second weeks, was insanely busy.
As the manager had warned in advance, there were four matches in two weeks.
Two of them were league matches.
The other two were Champions League.
There were no unimportant matches to begin with, but anyway, all four matches were critically important, so there was no time to catch my breath.
“Whew, good work. Damn, I thought I was gonna crap myself in the middle there.”
Right after the third of those four matches, the away game against Torino FC, had just finished.
On the way back to the locker room after thanking the away fans, the captain said that, and I found myself nodding.
I didn’t know playing two matches a week would be this hard.
Even though I was subbed out around the 75th minute.
So I couldn’t dare act tired in front of the seniors who played the full time, but still, tired is tired.
I trudged toward the locker room.
And first of all… I took out my phone from my locker to check.
There was a message from Jiu.
Jiu: Hey, did you not eat right?
Jiu: Why do you look so weak today?
Jiu: Tiredddd??
Jiu: Well, it must be really tough.
Hmm, did it look that way even in Jiu’s eyes?
I had decided to show only a happy appearance just the day before yesterday.
In the end, it seemed I had only lasted three days.
Honestly, the match itself hadn’t been bad.
I didn’t score, but I recorded one assist, and returned to the bench safely without getting hurt.
But even so, the reason I couldn’t quite muster any strength… well.
“…”
I stared at my phone silently, and even though a reply I wanted to send suddenly came to mind, I couldn’t easily type it.
Our squad would return to the hotel in Turin city now, then leave straight for Spain tomorrow.
Without going back to Florence.
It was for the Champions League group stage match against Sevilla in four days.
…That was the reason I felt so listless for no apparent reason.
Finishing one match but not being able to go home and having to go all the way to Spain before I can return—does that even make sense?
Of course, I’m not some seven-year-old brat, so it’s not like something terrible happens if I don’t sleep at home for a night, but…
“……Hoo.”
I typed exactly what I was feeling into the message window, but my chest stung and my face flushed hot, so I ended up erasing it again.
Ugh.
No matter how much I think about it, this is wrong.
Instead… I should send it like this.
Me: It’s because of you;;
Me: You’re the one who spoiled my taste…
Gaah.
Honestly, this is so cringeworthy I feel like dying, but it’s still the best I can do.
…Yeah.
How could I say *I miss you*… to a friend, and not just any friend, but a really, really, really close friend like Jiu?
If I did, I might disintegrate from the cringe beyond just squirming.
Besides, I just saw him the day before yesterday, so saying something like that…
If I sent that, I would probably be teased for the rest of my life.
…I’m glad I didn’t send it.
“Huh? Jian! Jian, what’s wrong with your face!”
“…Huh?”
The moment I sent the message, I turned off my phone and put it in my bag, when the trainer suddenly panicked and rushed over to me.
Thanks to that, I was even more flustered and asked back, and the trainer put a hand on my forehead with a serious expression.
“Why is it so hot! A cold? Or was it too hot? Dear me, bring an ice pack for now!”
……Hmm.
It wasn’t a cold, but I did feel like I had caught some kind of illness.
⋅⋅⋅
Late afternoon on September 11, 2022. Seville, Spain.
Ramón Sánchez Piz… what was it again.
Anyway, Sevilla’s home stadium.
This was only my second visit to Spain, but every time I come, what I feel is that the weather is nice.
Of course, it might be because I only come on good days, but if it’s nice every time, then doesn’t that mean it’s ultimately nice?
With the sun heading home, the weather was just right for football—appropriately cool, yet still carrying the lingering scent of summer that hadn’t fully left… but.
That didn’t mean I was in a good mood.
“This gives me chills every time I hear it. Right?”
While the Champions League anthem was spreading through the stadium, Romero, standing next to me, whispered that, and I nodded.
I empathized, but truthfully, the song wasn’t really entering my ears.
Because in my head… there was only the thought of wanting to finish the match quickly and go home.
I was just annoyed at Sevilla for making me come play a match without even being able to go home.
…Of course, that’s not really Sevilla’s fault, but whatever.
It just is what it is.
“Come on, let’s go! Let’s go!”
“Even if it’s just for a moment, let’s be at the top of the table!”
After shaking hands with the Sevilla players I didn’t want to see, I followed the seniors shouting and cheering toward the ground.
For many reasons, I wasn’t happy at all, but perhaps because of that, I felt more combative than usual.
They weren’t an easy opponent.
I still remember the shock when Juventus lost to La Liga’s Villarreal.
Since our opponent, Sevilla, was a team that beat that Villarreal to advance to the Champions League, they couldn’t be an easy opponent.
Still… somehow.
I just felt like saying *Let’s take the hits first*—
For now.
Beeeeeeep—!
With the whistle, I ran energetically toward the opponent’s end.
*
“It’s started. Turn off your phone.”
“…Hmm.”
“I said it started. Turn it off quickly and focus.”
“Sigh. Alright.”
A corner of the stands at Ramón Sánchez-Pizjuán.
A man puts away his phone at his subordinate’s nagging.
As he does so, seeming dissatisfied with something, he pouts his lips and grumbles.
“It’s truly ironic.”
“…What is?”
“I love Madrid, I work in Madrid. But because of that, I can’t watch our team’s matches. What could be more ironic than this?”
“Sigh. How many years of seniority do you have, and you’re still saying that? Just watch the replay.”
“Then isn’t this match the same? Watch our team’s match now, and watch this match by replay later. How about that?”
“…Shall I report you to the higher-ups for neglecting your duties?”
At his subordinate’s righteousness, to whom even jokes didn’t get through, the man pouts and turns his eyes toward the field.
On the field, the match between Sevilla and Fiorentina had just begun.
“…”
The man scanned the field with his eyes.
An instantly changed gaze that made it hard to believe this was the same person who had been making silly jokes just moments ago.
That sharp gaze soon began following one point.
“…Oh.”
And after a moment.
The regret the man had grumbled about over not being able to watch his own team’s match began to disappear as if it had never been there.
A far more interesting existence was walking across the field.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━