June 26, 29011

At least it was finally over. His left shoulder hurt like hell, his right knee was palpitating, and pretty much his whole body was worn out. Rising from bed, he rubbed his shoulder as a shy grin appeared on his face: it hurt so much because he had gone nuts lifting the Gold Cup -and, of course, the two other trophies-, which was heavy enough. His father had laughed for minutes on the phone, saying it was almost his size. He chuckled: it had been worth it.

The boy ran the water for a long shower, flashes of the previous night -and morning- coming back in a random order. It had been an amazing party, because despite all the troubles, the team had made it. And made it right. They had trained hard, they had planned, and at the last minute they found themselves with five players less, a scandal, and the mordacious comments of the media. But it was over.

Coming out of the bathroom, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked absent-minded around the room, too lazy to go downstairs, and took some fruit out of the frigo. He was very glad he wasn't a drinker, like some of his most lively partners. And, just as if on cue, his cellphone began ringing, and the boy had to manuver to reach for it somewhere on a messy entrance table:

" ¿Y ese milagro que despertaste, Gio? Isn't it, like, too early for you?"

On the other side of the phone, laughing was mixed with a groan:

"What are you talking about? It's already five! What are you doing right now?"

The soccer player looked with disbelief at the tiny clock on the bedside table: it read 5:08. He frowned, thinking a very honest 'What the...'

"Err.. breakfast?"

"More like supper, you mean? Listen, guess who did Pablo and I ran into today?"

Between munches, Javier replied:

"I dunno, who?"

"June!"

If he was glad alcohol did not produce hammering in his head, his luck ran empty at the mention of her name.

"June? How is she?"

"What do you mean 'how is she'? Is that all your going to ask? Man, we were all over her in a second and asking why wasn't she at the party and, you know, being my usual, charismatic self, and the girl... she pretty much just bowed and left."

The boy didn't answer, just dropped the apple core inside the bin and sighted. He had to stop listening to Gio, no matter how good friends they were. Surely they had grown a lot since the first times they trained together, but that mischief the guy had in his veins was not going to fade anytime soon.

"Hey, Chicharo, are you listening?"

"Aham... Sorry, Gio, but I have no idea what was that about. I have not spoken to her since the Guatemala game."

"Precisely. Well, I was _actually_ calling to remind you we have a press con in like... less than two hours."

"I know, I know... thanks for reminding me, though."

"Anytime, dude... are you still in the hotel?"

"Yup"

"Good, I'll crash there in 30. See ya!"

He tossed aside his phone. All he wanted was to take a few days off, travel to Guadalajara and forget about everything. But now, there were things he had to fix, all for taking the advice from his friend to "just play forward".

He looked around for the clean, black shirt. If tonight they had a press conference, it was certain she'd be there. Then he could set everything to rest.

June 4, 2011

As they arrived the city, early in the morning, Javier Hernandez couldn't help but think that Arlington was a very sad city. From the window he had seen not only the stereotypical American houses, but endless desserted areas. Sure, there were several small cities around it, but he wasn't expecting much. He shook his head as he reproached himself: as far as he knew, he came to play, and nothing more.

Their first game was to take place the next afternoon, which meant that today some of the team's men would have to go under certain formalities, check-ins, press tables, and perhaps medical testings. He looked at his coach, silently looking for an answer he already knew: if they were going to give interviews, it was certain they'd call him to appear.

So, it did not surprise him to find himself in the conference room of the hotel, in front of cameras, flashes, and microphones, something he should have been used to since his time in Chivas, but that was something he couldn't quite feel as a part of his everyday life.

Mostly, the questions where all the same: anticipations, positions, physical preparations, expectations. He answered to all questions possed by the resporter -both in English and Spanish- with respect, repeating some phrases he had used on several other occasions.

Something, or rather someone, caught his eye. Javier thought he had seen her before a couple of times, though looking much more childish than now. The long brown hair did not remain locked in a tight, french braid anymore, but long waves of it framed her fair face. Yes, he recognized her, the girl was usually standing beside Alberto Lati and assisting him.

Even now that some time had passed, she wasn't really tall, but more like petite, and kept bitting her lower lip while hoping to get some attention to her raised hand. He saw her frown, and at the same time somebody elbowed him. The girl had made a question, and he had not answered yet.

"Forgive me, I'll say it a bit louder. We know, from what the technical team has told us, where does your physical strenght come from, but how about the confidence you display on the field? What would you recall is the make of it?"

He had to grin. She knew what she wanted: an answer easy to sell in the Mexican media context.

The boy, as usual, stuttered and rambled about the answer:

"Well, well, I could say that it comes from not thinking about past or future, but always giving the best in the current moment. Confidence comes from many things... playing, playing isn't easy, but, but... I count on the support from my family, my nation, my teammates, and..." he cut himself off. Even if everyone knew, he was not going to say 'God', not out of shame, perhaps respect, or prudence. "Just to be sure that confidence does not blind our game." The girl bowed her head and mouthed a 'thank you' just in time for another reporter to follow the chain of questions.

As the whole comitee exited the room, he turned around to see her, and blushed, when she noticed and responded with a shy grin.

tbc...

Thanks for reading. I'd appreciate any comments, but I would ask that if you did not like the story make of your words something constructive, and not an insult.

-Rain