For The Hope Of It All

Ilyes

Manchester Glory had arrived in New York City for pre-season which meant I had to do my due diligence and pretend I gave a fuck about the club considering they were taking away my position over the possibility that my still healing ankle could get injured again. Healing from the surgery that would minimize the risk of reoccurrence. A surgery that I didn't even want but was suggested by the medical team at Glory anyways. I had gotten an invitation by Xabi himself to join the team and watch training and then of course, sideline viewing of the team at their game against Newcastle City. I'd have to do everything in me not to cheer for my old team. At least they treated me better than this damned club. After I scored the winning goal that won us the league. We had been 2 down in the game deciding match while our rivals Liverpool United, who we were neck and neck in ranking in the English League table, were 1 goal up in their game. If they won and we lost or drew, we'd lose the league. But if we won then we'd win the entire league as long as we scored more goals them. It seemed like an impossible task, scoring 3 goals against Burnley County, a mid table team but once I was subbed on, I assisted two goals in twenty minutes and then scored the winning goal in extra time. Had injured myself doing so. I was a talented player. If I hadn't done so we wouldn't have won the treble. Sure, winning the European competition for the first time in our club's history was important but so was winning the first treble in our club's history. Nevertheless, I had gone to training. Had smiled for the photos when greeting my team out on the pitch. Gave the photographer what they wanted as I shook Xabi's hand with a fake smile on my face.

"Bet you're happy you're not doing pre-season" Mateo laughs as we walked around the length of the pitch during the training water break. He was right. Part of me was glad to be injured. I hated pre season with a passion because of playing football in the disgusting heat. But I did it anyway because I loved meeting fans and it was always a great way to visit different countries. Last year we had gone to Australia and South East Asia. I visited an amazing mosque in Jakarta, the biggest in South East Asia. "You look good"

"Been enjoying the time with family" He didn't need to know that I was also enjoying fun with Kiyara.

"Sure you have" Mateo scoffs before glancing over me, "Safiyah's here"

As if I don't have the post notifications on for Instagram. She has 'touchdown!' captioned on a picture of her in front of the Manchester Glory private charter.

"Yeah? Is she here with Laurent Rama" I ask, purposely rolling my ankle. Walking took a bit getting used to without the moon boot but I was excited to start playing again, even if it was just with Amo Marino and Sinclair at the park.

"No. She's here with the team. And her dad."

"Right" I clear my throat, "So that means she's staying at the same hotel as the team right?"

Mateo flashes me a grin, "Right across from Isa and the kids"

"That reminds me, I've got a Tonka Truck for Junior. Shall I come visit you after the game?"

"You can only visit if you get something for Catalina and Analuisa too. Can't play favorites"

"I'll be honest now, Analuisa is my favorite. There is no doubting that. I'm actually offended you think I would come empty handed. Catalina wanted a doll of me so I got them both one so they don't fight over their favorite uncle."

"So kind of you. You know Isa is going to hide those dolls"

"After I custom made them in time for the Barbie movie release? Don't be so cruel"

Mateo only rolls his eyes at me. He had been at Newcastle City with me for a few years before he moved to Manchester Glory which, if I had to be honest, was part of the driving force in my choice for signing with them. Aside from them dominating the league the last few years, I wanted to be where my best friend was. I'm sure he got a bonus for talking me into it too. I don't think I would've survived adjusted so well at Manchester without him, especially with the arrogant prick Xabi as the coach. I leave the boys to train, promising that I'd return tomorrow for the game. They all hug me goodbye, perfect for the photographers who will no doubt be posting this all over the internet. Kaiky Santos and Baptiste Bellegarde, the two players who I'd be competing with for a spot in the starting eleven as a fucking central defensive midfielder give me the most pathetic apologetic smiles. Seems like the head manager has let them know. It wasn't their fault, I had to remind myself so I direct my anger to the man who fucked me over instead. I give Xabi the curt nod he deserved and a bright smile to the rest of the coaching staff. Fuck them. I hope this fucking team loses without me.