Chasing the ball

Part 8

The winter of 2020 brought to Buenos Aires an uncertain scenary. A new disease cornered Nicolas, with worries and concerns.
During the first colds weeks Nicolas started to jog around a public square. Slowly. During minutes. Gaining more and more endurance each day. During the third week his son joined him. Sometimes using his bike, or carrying the ball along with him. 
At one point, Nicolas put himself into a test and took a sprint.
And while recovering his breath, he saw his son playing with a humble little boy.
The slow motion tango dance movement of dribbling, faking and turning to a side.          The gentle precise caress to that esfere that sometimes, seems alive or brought to life by the carrier, that uses it as a painter's pen. 

By the coldest part of the winter, Alejandro, baptized Pale Ale the therapist, also joined them.
The first day he appeared dressed with a large coat driving  his electric scooter. He walked around looking at the trees and also with a little shyness, ask for the ball a couple of times. The two kids taught him some basic things like stopping the ball, how to carry it, and two ways of kicking the ball.
The therapist took a long stare while smoking his pipe, looking at one of the kids giving the lesson.
With the inner side, you can pass the ball. And use your leg and foot, as a golf club. 
Nicolas took glimpses between lapses, taking a look at his son teaching the interested adult. 

After that, Nicolas made a large sprint again, and his legs and lungs reacted well. In a real football match, he would have passed a defender. 
While recovering his breath, he witnessed something in his son's friend. He was talking about football.
Suddenly, he interrupted them. Have you ever played in a club?
Pale Ale, the doc, slowly turned around at the same time as the kids.
Why you think he has to do that? 
Little Diego was the son a single mother, who didn't care so mucho for him.
He was a lonely boy, who'd dropped early school, and for a long while, he had been kicking a ball in a public square. 
He was the best around. He'd play anything. Passes, long passes. One touch passes. Kicking to an imaginary goal. Name the game, he'd play. Winning every time.
Always in the square. In was his own stadium. 
One day. He disappeared. And her mother too. They moved, they say.
His legacy remain for years in his sign in the cement of the little basketball and football public court of Plaza Dorrego in Palermo neighbourhood. 
During the firsts days of this absense, Alejandro the psychiatrist noticed how Nicholas took it on himself. Nicholas tought he could have done something. Luckily his therapist  was there to make a suggestion.
We have to move on. When are we having the football match you talked so much about?