♪ Is this the real life? ♪
♪ Is this just fantasy? ♪
♪ Caught in a landslide ♪
♪ No escape from reality ♪
♪ Open your eyes ♪
♪ Look up to the skies and see... ♪
♪ I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy ♪
♪ Because I'm easy come, easy go ♪
♪ Little high, little low ♪
♪ Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me.....to me....♪
There I stood in the shower, the water hitting my face, going through my hair, My old Spotify account played through its speakers on shuffle. Listening to 'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen.
It's 2:34pm right now. I've been practicing outside for awhile today, as well as coming back inside to hangout with Cristiano. I've attempted to contact Neymar but...I've had no luck, he's not answering. I just hope he's alright...
I stepped out the shower, dried myself with a towel and threw it in the dirty clothes basket. Putting on some clothes, I went the living room. Cristiano was there, sitting on the couch, watching TV, but it was more like the TV was watching him...he was in his phone not even paying attention. But because of yesterday, his crossing with Sergio, he's been a little depressed or disturbed, and not like how he was a few weeks ago, this was a non-energetic type of enthusiasm. I guess he really doesn't want to play against Spain, against Sergio, unless he has the right reasons too.
"Hey Zack." He acknowledged my presence.
"Hey Cristiano. How are you?" I responded back.
"I'm fine, I already told you." He coldly replied.
Gezz...Was I stubborn like this just two weeks ago? Anyway, I walked closer to him and kneeled down a bit so I could talk to him on the same level. "I understand you ok? But are you going to sit here all day and not do anything? I admit, I made a mistake doing that before. Instead, you should go hangout with Fabio or talk to Jeanne. You need to get out of the house so you don't think about it too much." I advised.
"Ok, ok, I get it Zack. I'll get out the house. Just don't nag me to death." He mildly insulted. Nag!? I punched him on the top of his head
"Filho da puta! (Son of a bitch!)" He yelled in Portuguese.
"I'm leaving." I walked towards the door fully dressed.
"Where are you going?" He asked still rubbing his head.
"OUT." I smartly replied as I stepped outside, shutting the door behind me. I wanted to be alone for now because I had some thinking to do, about the future, and to give Cristiano some space, as well as Neymar.
--- (Hungry...)
I walked to a local restaurant. Well one, because I was legitimately hungry. And two, because this specific place, Nobu, has a nice atmosphere, perfect for recollections and positive thinking.
"Table for one please?" I asked the cashier, a young lady.
"I'm sorry, but we aren't taking any orders right now, the seats are VIP reserved for a certain party." She said apologetically. I looked around and she wasn't lying, there were no people here.
Strange...
"What party? I don't really see anyone here..."I asked her.
"That would be us." A man with a group of people walked in, I turned and squinted my eyes, noticing a few bodyguards... and is that...Bastian??
"Bastian?? You and the Germany team are the 'certain' party??" I questioned. He looked at me and seemed like he remembered something.
"Oh! The guy from the dinner a few weeks ago...Zeke was it? Cristiano's fan girl?" he cheekily replied.
"I'm not his fan girl! And it's Zack! Get it right!" I barked at him gritting my teeth.
"Looks like I forgot." he chuckled, still not really caring about a thing I had to say.
"You can't just rent out the whole restaurant! Other people want to eat here too you know!!" I raised my voice at him, but it seemed like it had no effect on him.
"Watch me." He reached into his wallet, pulled out some cash, handing a portion to the cashier, and another potion to his bodyguard.
"Take him out of here." Bastian remorselessly said, signaling his bodyguard towards me.
Before I knew it, I was thrown outside the restaurant, hitting the ground.
"That son of a!!----" I got up, running towards the door, but it closed before I made it in time.
"You asshole!!! You're Lucky you're on THAT side of the door Bastian!!" I shouted, punched and kicked the door, shaking it in anger.
I was about to punch it one more time before I accidentally elbowed a guy in the face and he screamed. He fell to the ground holding his face.
"Oh shit! I'm sorry! It was an accident!" I turned around, changing my tone, wondering if the guy was alright.
"Don't worry, I'm fine." he got up dusting himself off.
"Is this place closed or something?" he asked.
"Not exactly, someone famous rented it out for the next few hours." I informed him.
"Did they really? And they threw you out?" a surprised expression written all over his face.
"Yep. Which is why I'm beating this door like a maniac." I resumed punching the door.
"Hey, hey, hey. Let's just try a different place?" he suggested.
"I know we should, but what bugs me the most is that the Germany team captain thinks he can do what he wants!" I hit the door one more time before I stopped.
"Bastian had you thrown out? It sucks that you can't even eat at your favorite restaurant...Well, if it make you feel any better, how about I pay for your lunch?" He asked.
"No way, you couldn't." I insisted.
"It's fine, don't worry about." He insisted back, almost giving me no choice but to accept.
"Ok fine, you win." I chuckled.
I wonder... Who is this guy? The first thing that stood out to me, was obviously his accent. But that's not saying much.
"Hey what's your name?" I asked as we walked to his car. "Oh, My name? You can call me Angel, but a lot of people just call me by my last name, Di Maria." He smiled.
--- (Driving around)
We went to another restaurant, an outdoor one, and a both started talking about quite a bit. However I didn't completely tell him everything, I kept somethings a secret. He was interested to know how good I was at Football though. All of which I explained, but it got me thinking, which team does he play for?
"If you don't mind me asking, because it's obvious you're a famous player. Which team do you play for?" I asked raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, I play for Argentina." He answered.
"Well I see you two have met." I heard a familiar voice.
"Hey! Zlatan! You made it!" Di Maria welcomed him, as did I.
Quite a few people, Fans, started to look and stare at our table even more now and a made me just a little nervous.
"So you two know each other?" Di Maria questioned.
"Of course we do, Cristiano, Neymar and I are training this guy to be an athlete. He's only 21, still young enough for a career." Zlatan explained as he sat on the other side of the table.
"All three of you??" Di Maria did a double take at me, as if SOMETHING about me opened his eyes.
"I have high hopes for you Zack." He then smiled.
"Thanks" I smiled back.
"But that temper of yours reminds me of Sergio, so much fire!" He laughed.
"He's Spaniard as well." Zlatan added.
I looked elsewhere, ignoring these two.
"Yea, laugh it up..." I pouted.
These two laughed their hearts out, but Di Maria slowed down his laughter as he saw my facial expression.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." his laughing slowly stopped.
"Soo how do you two know each other?" I curiously asked them both.
"I play for Manchester United now, but there was a time where Angel and i used to play together for PSG, Paris Saint-Germain." Zlatan explained.
"Oh, like Paris, France?" My curiosity was still showing.
"No. Paris, New York. OF COURSE I mean Paris, France." Zlatan gave me his sarcastic humor.
"But a while ago I used to play for Real Madrid too. So I know 'the guys'." Angel added on.
"But enough about me, I wanted to talk about today's game." Di Maria said, looking a Zlatan.
"Right, Netherlands VS Germany. I don't think anyone saw this coming so soon..." Zlatan said, going into deep thought.
"Wait, I'm lost. What's with the match up? Are they rivals or something?" I looked confused.
"There are very little teams here right now that stand the best chance against. Germany..." He partially answered.
"Which are??" I interrupted.
"Argentina, and Netherlands." He pointed to Di Maria.
"I know they won the last one, but are you serious! Not even Spain, Brazil, Portugal, or your team have better chances?" I said being rather surprised, but he shook his head.
"Van Persie has one hell of a match today, my only hope is that he's ready for It." said Di Maria. 2 teams? Only 2 are adequate enough to play against Germany? That's insane...
"Are they really that good?" I worriedly looked left and right at them both.
"I'm afraid so." Zlatan confirmed. After a few seconds of silence he spoke again as if he had an idea.
"How about you come with us to the game Zack? Think of this like a field trip from Zlatan." he encouraged.
"Aren't techniques supposed to be physically practiced?" Di Maria questioned.
"Zack is fine. He was already physical capable the moment he started training with me." Zlatan bragged a bit, but he was right. Now that I actually think about it, I was only mildly sore from his training, nothing too serious.
"Well then, let's meet up around 7pm? I think that's a good enough time to get there and settle down before the game starts." Di Maria suggested.
"Sounds good. You guys go take care of what you have to. I'll secure a VIP area for us in the meantime." Zlatan said, getting up from the table.
"Same, I'll see you guys then." Di Maria got up as well, leaving the table.
I nodded to Zlatan and departed. It was what? 5pm? Going back to Cristiano's wasn't exactly the plan, so I was on my own for now.
--- (Later on)
"Hey, just though I'd let you know, I'm going to the Netherlands and Germany game. I'll be back, once it's over." I left a voicemail for Cristiano.
I was at a practice field not too far from the stadium, quite a few people were here, obviously fans, playing friendly matches. It was a rather calming sight, almost beautiful, to see all the people having fun and enjoying the sport----.*SMACK*
A ball came, smacked me in the face, interrupting my thoughts, and knocking me off the bleacher.
"What the hell?? Whose ball is this!?" I demanded.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" A young boy ran up to me apologizing. I quickly calmed down.
"Its fine, I have a friend who often does that to me. So I'm used to it." Laughing it off, I rolled the ball up to my foot, hit it up in the air, catching it, and handing it back to the child. Can't stay mad at him, he's still young after all. The kid then kicked the ball but a guy blocked it. His older brother I assume?
"You're going to have to try harder than that if you want make it past me!" He boasted.
I could tell the kid was getting a little frustrated, I know I would have if I had a brother who defended and blocked the goal as well as this guy did, the kid's kicks weren't bad. But there's a blind spot to his way his brother defends.
"Hey. Want me to help?" I kneeled down and whispered to him. He nodded.
"You're kicks aren't bad, but try angling your foot...More like this." I lightly picked it up and turned it, showing him what I meant.
"Hold it there, and give your next kick all you've got. Give yourself some space, and run up to it." I instructed him and he listened.
Stepping back, he gave himself some room, and ran up to the ball, kicking it with the angle I showed him. The ball flew high, but right before his brother blocked it, the ball curved and went into the goal. The brother's jaw dropped being shocked by what he just witnessed. The boy jumped up and down, excited now that he beat his brother.
"Good job!" Smiled at him, putting my hand out and he high fived it.
"You having fun Zack?" Zlatan said, catching my attention.
"Zlatan? What're you doing here?" I questioned.
"I was on my way to the stadium and I saw you here." He patted me on the back.
"OH my god! You're Zlatan Ibrahimović!" The older brother seemed surprised, the little one was both happy and shy at the same time, hiding behind his older sibling.
"Who else would I be?" Zlatan jokingly replied back to him.
"He's with you?" He pointed at me, and then to Zlatan.
"Yea." I replied.
"Well now it makes more sense." He laughed.
"If you've got something I'll sign it." Zlatan offered.
"OF COURSE!" He jumped and reach in his pocket, pulling out a permanent marker.
Like he said he would, Zlatan then signed their soccer ball.
"If it's alright, could we get yours too?" The guy asked me.
"Me? Why me?" I was rather surprised. No one's ever asked me to do this before.
"Go on." Zlatan encouraged, and I signed it.
"Give me your address, shirt sizes, and I'll make sure you two get a jersey ok?" Zlatan asked.
"Thank you! And thank you too Zack!" The guy looked at my signature and shook my hand.
We all took a picture and Zlatan signaled me, saying it was time to go. I nodded and kneeled down to the kid.
"Make your brother proud and score a lot of goals alright?" I smiled at him and he nodded. Zlatan and I got inside his car and left.
"That was nice of you Zack. You know that you're a good player and shared some of your knowledge with the youth. I was right to trust and teach you." He brought up.
"Look who's talking! You did the same for me, and you're even sending them jerseys." I modestly redirected his comment back to him.
"I guess you're right!" he laughed.
But I was glad to help the boy. Those two seemed really happy, and it made me wonder. It must be nice, to have a brother.
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