Chapter 63 – The Weight of the Jersey
The roar of the crowd still lingered in Jota's mind long after the final whistle. It wasn't the full, thunderous explosion of a world-class stadium, but for the people of Penedono, this was everything. The dusty pitch, the wooden stands, the improvised banners with his name written in shaky letters—this was their stage, their pride. And in the center of it, he stood: Jota, wearing the number seven jersey, drenched in sweat but smiling like a boy who had just rediscovered the sun.
He walked off the field, boots heavy with dirt, heart light with joy. Beside him, teammates clapped him on the back, their voices still ringing with disbelief.
"You were flying out there, Jota!" Miguel, the lanky striker, grinned wide, his teeth gleaming against his tanned face. "That last goal—you fooled their entire defense!"
Jota laughed softly, shaking his head. "It wasn't me. It was the team. Without your pass, Miguel, I wouldn't have had the chance."
