28 July 2016
"So, you're saying that he has not been able to recover since that boy left?"
José Ramón Alexanko stared blankly at President Bartomeu. In a last call for sanity, he turned towards Aureli Altimira, the new director of La Masia. What did he expect from someone chosen by Josep Bartomeu? Altimira did not meet Alexanko's eyes and nodded along to his president's line of questioning.
"Mister Bartomeu, this is the most talented kid La Masia has had since Bojan. He will make the ideal replacement for Busquets in a few years—"
"I appreciate your passion, Alexanko," Bartomeu interrupted. "Let me ask you, Mister Altimira. What is all the talent in the world worth, if you are mentally weak?"
José Alexanko stiffened as a flicker of anger travelled through him. Aureli Altimira glanced at Alexanko before answering, "Nothing, Sir. There have been many wonderkids who amounted to nothing. Mister Alexanko himself named one just now."
"But he is not mentally weak! In a week, Jordi's mentor passed away, and his friend's career ended. He turned 13 last month, Misters. Of course, he has suffered because of that."
Bartomeu put on a faint smile, which made Alexanko want to punch him in the face. However, he calmed himself and continued.
"Mister Bartomeu, Mister Altimira, you are aware that he has been deeply affected off the pitch over the past few months. Then, you must also be aware of his performance on the pitch.
He has turned a new gear ever since. Jordi dictates every single game from the pivot. You can ask his coaches; no one can get near him this season. In 26 games this season, Jordi has 4 goals and 18 assists!"
"Alexanko, my friend, I am just asking you to wait. Every year, we immediately renew the boy's training agreement like we are desperate. We will renew him, but in a few weeks.
Mister Altimira, Jordi Lloret must be a good talent, if Mister Alexanko is vouching for him. Take good care of him, but there is no need to invest everything in him. What if we cannot get a return on the boy? Also, get the media team to focus on the boy. He is a good-looking kid. We can use that."
"Yes, Mister Bartomeu."
Alexanko did not speak up again. He and many old colleagues had realised the trend long ago. Ever since Rossell became president, their club had been losing its essence. With Bartomeu taking over, things had only worsened. It was difficult for José Alexanko to accept how far their Barcelona had fallen.
…
The sunlight filtered in through the mesh in the door window. Warm light illuminated the bakery, bringing a familiar comfort with it. The smell of yeast permeated the bakery and escaped to the street outside.
Behind the counter sat Jordi. His azure eyes, dignified but empty, trained to the entrance, an arm's distance from his right shoulder. He tapped his right index finger on the counter, an action signifying Jordi's deep thought.
It had been four months, and he was better now. For the first few weeks, Jordi was miserable. Estel and his friends at La Masia could testify to that. The only comfort and escape he found was training and matches. On the pitch, Jordi could express all the grief, the confusion, the anger that settled in him.
Mama, to her credit, was right. With time, Jordi grew out of his grief and came to terms with Sergi's injury. The event did, however, leave Jordi with a clearer understanding of his future. It truly was a difficult thing to accept.
Jordi admitted to himself that he wished to ignore it for his own bliss, but for how long? He grew up with Señor Garcia's tutelage and Layla Lloret's customs. Jordi was both more intelligent and wiser than any teenager should be.
He inevitably came to the harsh realisation that his talent and hard work were not enough. He could work himself to the ground, as he usually did, and he could have the greatest talent in the world. Yet, he would never be a footballer if it were not his fate. Lionel Messi, Johan Cruyff, Paulo Maldini, and even Carles Puyol were talented, hard-working, and lucky.
Jordi knew very well how talented his friend Sergi Gomez was. Unfortunately, Sergi's fate veered him away from the football he loved so dearly. No doubt, the importance of fate, of luck, was a challenging concept for Jordi. There had to be a balance that Jordi could settle for. At times, to accept fate with gratitude. At times, to fight fate with desperation. Nonetheless, Jordi, for all his wisdom, was still too inexperienced to find this balance.
Jordi also did not tell anyone, but he really missed Sergi. For years, he and Sergi had been inseparable, whether as roommates, teammates, or friends. Then, in an instant, they lost all contact. No matter how many messages he sent or the innumerable calls he made, Sergi had never responded. Well, until today.
Jordi woke up this morning to a series of messages from Sergi. Since then, he had experienced joy, anxiety, relief, and fear. Yet, the messages remained unopened. Only now did Jordi find it in him to open Sergi's chat.
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Sergi: Hola Jordi
Sergi: Don't you have any shame? What boy calls and msgs another boy so much?
Sergi: I just wanted to let you know that I'm better now. I have started focusing on school and I'm planning on accompanying my dad. You know I've always been a good businessman
Sergi: Anyways, thank you Jordi. So many msgs and calls, it was nice to see someone care so much
Sergi: I just need some time to be able to face all of you and anything football related tbh
Sergi: Tell the other boys I said hi
Sergi: Also
Sergi: Don't forget me buddy! I'll return stronger than ever and we'll rule the world together
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Jordi could not help but chuckle. Sergi sounded like himself, and that was good. He hoped Sergi was better, happy again if nothing else.
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Jordi: I'll be waiting for you, idiot.
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