140. Soccer Is Hard -2
If I could greet all three hundred sixty-five days of the year in good condition, nothing would be better than that, but as a human being rather than a machine, that is probably impossible.
No, perhaps even machines have days when their condition drops.
Since I am not a machine, I cannot say for certain that machines are always in good spirits.
I try my best to enter every match in peak condition.
But I think it is also necessary to have the attitude of acknowledging that I cannot do so every time.
In the forty or fifty matches played in a year, there will definitely be situations where I have to drag my battered body onto the pitch.
Even if it amounts to nothing more than a single match, since it cannot not happen at all, I must know how to do my part even in such games.
Because there is no such thing as a match where it is okay to lose.
And that method was simpler than I thought.
Swoosh-!
Vertically near the center of the opponent's half, horizontally at the right half-space.
The moment I trap the pass coming from behind, I turn to face forward.
One touch.
Swoosh-!
I immediately thread a through pass to Saponara, who is making a run in behind the defense.
Two touches.
By the time the match had long passed the first half and over thirty minutes of the second half had gone by.
As if I were in the middle of a two-touch training drill, I was handling the next play in almost every situation within two touches.
Of course, I could not do that in every situation, and there were times when I had to hold onto the ball for longer stretches, but.
What I mean is, whenever possible, I focused on keeping the flow alive with as few touches as possible.
If my body is not in good shape, I just need to be a bit shameless and leave my share to my teammates as well.
There was never any reason or need for me to solve everything myself in the first place.
Thanks to that, irony found me once again.
At this point in the last match, when my physical condition had been at its peak, I was completely out of it and could not even run properly.
Yet today, when my body was only at a level where I could barely run, I was playing in a fairly decent state.
I was learning two things at once.
That the moment you feel like you are starting to understand something is when you need to be the most humble.
That when everything seems as though it will not work out, as long as you keep your wits about you, you can wisely overcome it.
Come to think of it, I am truly lucky.
Because I have gained an opportunity to learn two things at once, when learning even one thing is difficult.
Well, it is not just that.
When I think about it, I could even say I have gotten this far thanks to luck.
I met good teachers, met good seniors, was born to a good father, and even made a good friend.
If there is anyone as lucky as me, they should step forward and say it.
Probably not many would.
Honestly, in the past, when I felt this lucky, rather than feeling good about it, I felt anxious.
I suppose you could say I felt anxious, as if a tower built on luck would soon come crashing down.
Like a sandcastle that would be swept away by a single wave, with no proper foundation laid.
It only made me anxious because it felt like what was mine was not truly mine.
But now, my thinking has changed a little.
Rather than feeling anxious... my first thought is that since I was born with such good luck, I ought to at least try to do something with it.
If I am this lucky, should I not try to reach higher than before so that luck does not go to waste?
Swoosh-!
While positioned in the second line watching our attack unfold, Romero's shot hits a defender's body and deflects out.
...See?
I told you I am this lucky.
To the extent that the ball deflected off a defender's body happened to roll right in front of me.
Tap-tap-tap-
Boooooom-!
I place my right instep directly onto the ball rolling out perfectly for a strike.
As if simply placing a single spoon onto a fully prepared table.
Shooooom-
It is not a difficult thing for someone like me, who only ever places his spoon on the table that Jiu sets.
Thwack-!!
The goal net shook violently.
*
90:00
ROM 1 : 3 FIO
-7’ Bonaventura
-26’ Romero
-61’ Dybala
-77’ Lee
...
I do not think there is such a thing as an easy task in this world.
Well, someone might say there is. But what they call easy could be the hardest thing in the world for someone else.
For example, something like placing an order at a restaurant.
For outgoing people like Saponara or Bonaventura, calling a waiter is no big deal, but.
For someone like me, it is an incredibly difficult thing.
Ha.
I used to think that everyone must have at least one thing they find easy, but thinking about how even breathing, something every human animal does, might not be easy for someone, it does not seem to be the case.
Right now, for me, breathing is the hardest thing.
“Huff, huff...”
Breathing out rough gasps, I flop down onto the training pitch. I hear the coach telling me to breathe slowly and deeply, but I cannot follow even though I want to.
Perhaps because my lungs want to live too, they have gone beyond my control.
Stamina training is always hell.
“Hoooo...”
After lying there for a while, around the time I think I will not die thanks to my breath finally returning.
I push myself up with my arms with difficulty, and my wandering mind slowly returns.
And only then do I begin to hear the idle chatter of my seniors who crossed the finish line a step ahead of me.
“Why doesn't it feel real? Is it because it's in winter?”
“Right? Having a World Cup during the season is weird.”
“Why are you talking like you've been to the World Cup?”
“Oh my, oh my. I'm sorry, yes. I'm sorry for pretending to know in front of Uruguay's star shining with his grand one World Cup appearance.”
Hmm, more World Cup talk?
These days, whether during break time or travel time, the seniors’ greatest interest was the World Cup.
Well, it's called the world's greatest tournament, so it might be stranger not to talk about the World Cup that's right around the corner.
Among them, the one who brought up the World Cup at every opportunity was Torreira of the Uruguayan national team.
“Do you think one appearance is nothing? It's a stage some people never step on even if they play soccer their whole lives. Ah, sorry for the snipe.”
“Geez. Here we go again.”
“Here we go again? Hey, Sofyan. What do you think about guys who've never been to the World Cup talking about it?”
“I think it's illegal. They all deserve prison.”
At Torreira and Amrabat's comedy routine, everyone shakes their heads and sighs.
Only those two on our team had played in the World Cup.
So the pattern was always those two bringing up the World Cup, and the conversation ending with how dreamy a stage the World Cup is, and how great they are for having stepped on such a dreamy stage.
“Well, I'll let the guys going this time join in too. One appearance and two appearances are like heaven and earth, but it's still a different dimension from zero appearances. Right, Nicola?”
“That's true.”
The ones who sulk every time this comes up are the Italian seniors.
Because they could not go.
Italy had not even qualified for the last tournament, so whenever World Cup talk came up, they would all sigh first.
I heard they were once even a country that would win it.
Who knows how they ended up like that.
On the one hand, seeing people who always complained about having so many matches sulking because they could not play, I was thinking that the World Cup must truly hold a special meaning.
“And who else is going? Ah, what about the youngest? What's going on with him? Still no contact?”
The arrow turns toward me.
Everyone looks at me at Torreira's words, but the captain answers instead of me.
“How can you not care about the youngest? Don't you watch the news? Ah, well. It would be weird if you watched the news.”
“Why, what is it?”
“Forget it, man. Mind your own business and prepare well. Don't go and come back injured.”
“What? You nag me for not caring and then tell me to mind my own business. Which tune am I supposed to dance to?”
At the captain's scolding, Torreira's lips pout as if he is bewildered about why he is being scolded.
The captain probably says that because he knows I do not like this topic.
Thanks to that, the atmosphere becomes awkward somehow, and I hate that such an atmosphere is created because of me.
“...They called me a few times.”
“Huh? Really? Age-group? Or the senior national team?”
“I think it was both.”
“But why haven't you gone even once?”
...Hmm.
While wondering how to explain this for a moment.
Realizing this is neither an official interview nor a place with people between whom there are walls, I speak honestly.
“...Because I didn't want to go.”
“You didn't want... ah, is that so?”
Sometimes, just speaking honestly as things are makes your chest feel refreshed.
Now is such a time, so soon the things I had been hiding inside begin to burst out, as if wanting to breathe the outside air.
“I just lacked confidence a bit. The idea of me being a national team player felt strange too... so I just kept putting it off. But now I can't put it off anymore.”
“Why?”
“They said if I don't come in November, I could be disciplined.”
At my words, everyone suddenly presses their lips shut.
I had spoken as if it were no big deal on purpose, but it seems to have had no effect.
I heard it from my agent a few days ago.
My agent had said some very difficult things about CAS and appeals and whatnot, but the bottom line was that it was time to make a decision.
That if I do not respond to the call this time either... I could face disciplinary action.
He did add the caveat of “if things go badly,” but said that if I were disciplined, I might not be able to play several matches for my club.
It would have been nice if I could have made the decision for some really cool reason, but it's funny how reality is so mercilessly not like that.
“Still, if you don't want to go, just take it and be done with it. How bad can a disciplinary action be? Didn't... didn't our association say they'd help?”
The captain, who had been fiddling with his nails for no reason, speaks up softly.
I nod at those words, and the captain continues.
“It's not an easy choice, but that's an option too.”
I nod once more.
It would be a lie to say I had not been struggling.
Because if I had not been struggling in the first place, I would not have kept delaying it like this.
Even Jiu had cheered me on about choosing that side.
But the fact that I could not choose easily even after Jiu said that... means I had struggled that much.
So if you ask what made me struggle and hesitate so much... well.
I wonder if it is not too childish.
Since this is my honest feeling, I suppose there is nothing I can do even if it is childish.
“No matter how much I think about it... it just feels kind of uncool.”
It just felt really uncool.
Maybe because it felt like running away. It felt like hiding behind someone out of fear.
No matter how much I thought about it, it just felt uncool.
I do not know what the hell “cool” even means, but it seemed certain that I cannot stand being embarrassed.
After all... I am someone who came this far because I did not want to be humiliated.
“So, are you sure you've made up your mind now?”
I do not answer the captain's question for a moment.
To be even more honest, if I had had more time to think, I might have failed to make up my mind again and acted indecisively.
No, I definitely would have.
I am someone who cannot easily decide even when asked to choose a dinner menu.
This is a much more important and sensitive matter than something like that.
But that is why I know.
Because I know how hard it is to make a choice, and I know that the more you delay a choice, the more miserable you become.
In the end, the only one who suffers is me.
I nodded as if cheering myself on.
“I want to stop these pointless worries. I already have enough to do...”
If you pile up dishes because you do not feel like washing them, only your mind grows uncomfortable.
Since you know you will have to do it someday no matter how much you ignore it, you cannot be at ease.
Since it is something you have to do anyway, getting it over with quickly is easier on the mind.
“So the youngest is going to the World Cup too? Congratulations on joining the dream club, youngest.”
“...I don't know if I'll go or not.”
“Youngest, I'm not dissing your country, but even if you were born in Brazil, you'd make the squad. What do you mean, 'I don't know'?”
Everyone bursts into laughter as senior Torreira speaks with a furrowed brow.
So I just laughed along with them.
It was not because it was funny, but because my heart somehow felt lighter.