Victoria Jade Greenwood, a girl born in Madrid who dreamed of working in football since she was a kid, finally gets the big opportunity to settle as an sports director. However, she has to deal with public criticism for being a girl in football. In...
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December 10th, 2013.
I love Champions League nights. And today is a Champions League night. I've been excited about it for a few days already.
We are playing the last match of the group stage against Everton football club today.
If we win, we will be in the group's first position, but we would kick Everton out, which I don't really care about, honestly. I clearly want us to win.
I put on my Cristiano Ronaldo shirt, with jeans, a sweater and a coat. It is not visible, but I still like to wear my team's shirt when we go to the Bernabéu.
I also wear my Real Madrid scarf to every match. That is always visible.
"Are you ready, Vi?" I heard my dad say from the kitchen.
"Yes, I'm going!" I said, and left my room, still putting on my shoe as I walked to my house's entrance.
Dad and I said goodbye to mom and grandma, and left for the stadium.
My grandma always comes over to watch Real Madrid's matches with us. Before my grandad passed, they both did. The days when dad and I didn't go to the Bernabéu, it was always great to spend that time with them, it still is with my grandma.
I now also try to have lunch with my grandma every day after uni, as I want to be with her all the time I can while I still have her. I don't want her to feel alone without grandad either.
My grandma has been getting worse quicker since my grandad passed. Even though it's hard to see, I understand her. I miss him every day, I can't imagine how she feels.
She can't even go to Bernabéu anymore, which makes me so sad, as she loves the club with all her heart.
Dad and I walked to the stadium, and got in with our membership cards.
The match started, and it wasn't looking too bad for us. We were playing well, as we always do.
It wasn't looking too bad for us, until Everton scored.
And what a goal they scored.
"Who the fuck is that?! Messi?!" I heard someone scream from behind, which made me and my dad laugh.
"That motherfucker has scored such a great goal." I told my dad.
"Definitely. Who is he?" He asked.
"No idea. Let me check." I said.
I grabbed my phone and started looking at Everton's lineup.
"What number is he? 13?" I asked.
"I think so." Dad answered. "That blonde one over there." He pointed at the field.
"Niall Horan is his name. He's twenty." I informed my dad.
"Damn." He said. "He's good."
"And just a year older than me. Crazy." I chuckled.
