For my fifth birthday, two months ago, Uncle Ferran gifted me the new Messi shirt, with the #10 on the back for the first time ever. Today, Mama took it out of the plastic packaging and put it on me herself. She also finally handed me the black-colored Lotto Zhero Evolution she got me for my birthday. They looked as beautiful as I remembered. This time, I spent less time staring at them because Uncle Ferran was shouting from outside. Mama quickly laced up my boots, kissed my forehead, and wished me good luck.
"Reietó, hurry up. That fool will keep you out of the whole game. He is a stickler for rules," Uncle Ferran beckoned from his scooter.
"I'm here, I'm here, Uncle." I climbed up behind Uncle and hugged his waist tight before he kick-started the scooter and drove away.
"Reietó, celebrate if you score today. You never celebrate when you watch a game, you brat," Uncle Ferran shouted over the wind raging into my face.
I only rolled my eyes in response.
Today, I'll be playing my first match for els gats del Raval. The team is managed by Uncle's close friend and founding member of Penya Culers del Raval, Coach Diego. Most of the team is 7 or 8 years old, but Uncle convinced Coach to let me play. His main argument was that although I am underweight, I am both taller and better than my classmates.
…
"Stop stressing the kids out and come sit down," Diego pulled Ferran down to the wooden bench. He could not believe this was the bastard who would swear in front of the most fatal of dangers. If not surrounded by the kids he coached, Diego would bring out a digital camera to capture this moment to show the whole group.
Ferran sat down, but Diego had to clamp his knee to stop its incessant shaking.
"You have no idea, Diego. He loves football. Even more than you and I ever did. I don't know how he will react if he doesn't play well. And you b***, you had to start him in his first game?" Ferran's words rose into a growl nearing the last part.
"Calma, calma, Ferran. We handed him a ball in the crib. He has grown up knowing more about football than any kid on my team. And if, for some reason, today does not go well, we are here for him. We tell him that he played with older boys who have been part of the team for a long time." Diego squeezed Ferran's knee and shut him up before walking to the touchline for some last-minute encouragement.
…
Just half an hour ago, Coach told me I would be playing left centre back because both our starting centre backs were out with a common flu. I could not be more nervous. Although it was a cool morning, the temperature was not low enough to make my teeth clatter. I rubbed my hands and started to look at the players of the other team to distract myself.
"FWHEE"
The referee's whistle brought me back to the present as Juan, our striker, kicked off the game. Immediately, the second pass of the game was directed to me. I stopped the ball with the bottom of my foot and looked up to scan the pitch. Everything fell into place. I was content.
I rolled the ball ahead while confirming we were in the 4-4-2 shape Coach had drilled us in. My first pass, I laid off to the RM Rico. I was about to set off into the space left open, but I remembered that I was playing centre back today.
I gradually settled in as the game progressed. I was making the right passes and was intercepting anything near my space. There were also many frustrating moments. Every third or fourth pass of mine would not follow my intended trajectory, either losing pace or direction. I was outmuscled in each of my duels as well. Thankfully, the other team was never able to utilize their chances.
This is how twenty minutes flew by, and the half-time whistle sounded.
My throat was dry, and I was breathing in large gulps of air as I reached the circle we had formed around Coach Diego. Before sitting down, I glanced at Uncle Ferran, who gave me a secretive thumbs-up and a wink. My lips curved up, and I sat down. The coach mostly said some encouraging words before turning to each individual. Near the end, he looked at me for a moment or two.
"Jordi, you can see it, right? The empty spaces, the right play. We'll try to get you minutes in the midfield in the future. For now, set the rhythm from the backline. Shout out instructions, trigger plays, or arrange the backline. You can do a lot as a defender."
I took in every word Coach Diego said to me and nodded vigorously. Before long, the second half began. My first touch came with a tackle on the striker receiving the ball with his back to me. I poked it through his legs and ran after it myself.
Looking up, I spotted Juan, our striker, running towards the goal. However, I thought back to my weak passes in the first half. So I looked around more before I saw Pedro drift behind the opposing midfield. Not as efficient a play, but I had to make do with my technical and physical limitations.
I chipped the ball in the air to Pedro, who expertly controlled with his chest before turning to goal. With only the defence in front of him, Pedro passed into the path of the sprinting Rico, who crossed first time. Just as the ball reached Juan, the goalkeeper punched out. However, the ball kindly fell to Pedro, who slotted it into the empty net for our first goal.
1-0
I punched the air in exhilaration and jogged off to celebrate with the team. As I high-fived everyone, Pedro pulled my shirt and started rubbing my hair. Juan followed with a harsh pat to my back. I could only chuckle wryly before getting away and back to position for kick-off.