FOCUS - Alexia Putellas

1.

good evening everyone.

it's 9pm cet. the perfect time to dive into a new storyline, don't you think? just five days ago, this idea struck me out of nowhere, and now I don't think i can stop exploring it. i'm excited to see where this one will bring us. so, buckle up for the ride.

i'd appreciate you:
➡️ add this story to your reading list
➡️ give the chapters you like those little stars
➡️ share your thoughts and comments on what you enjoy

now grab a cup of coffee and enjoy the first chapter of 'focus' ☕️✍🏼

It was a typical November day in Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia, the sun was warm, a slight breeze hinting at autumn, though the air still held onto the remnants of summer.

The clock had just struck 1pm, signaling the end of the morning drills.

Coaches called the training session a wrap, and players gravitated toward the ice box, reaching for water bottles, their breaths still heavy from the final sprints and drills.

It was Wednesday, November 13th, 2024.

Just three days remained until El Clásico, the ultimate showdown against Real Madrid.

Though this was just another training day, a current of tension hummed through the group. The usual chatter was subdued, every player absorbed in a quiet focus, everyone's eyes set on Saturday's match. Determination radiated from each of them, the resolve to add another victory to their record.

Every athlete had wrapped up their training for the day.

Every one of them, except one.

"¡Ale, más rápido!"

The voice of head coach Pere Romeu cut through the quiet intensity, urging the two-time Ballon d'Or winner to dig even deeper. His voice from the sideline was sharp, his commands crisp as he sent his athlete through another drill, his gestures urgent, pushing her with a look and tone that brooked no compromise.

"¡Más. Más!"

Again and again, he called for more, driving Alexia to go faster, run harder, strike stronger, and with more power.

Challenge.

Every instruction carried a challenge.

The repetition was grueling, but the midfielder didn't falter. Instead, she accepted every demand, sprinting through another drill, and another, and another, and another, each pass and turn sharper and better than the last, while everyone else had already gathered for hydration.

"¡Hazlo de nuevo!"

The thrill of his voice pushed her onward. Alexia received another ball and, with one fluid motion, swiveled and sent it hurtling toward the goal's bottom right corner.

The net rippled. Another strike. Another goal.

Easy.

"Decent job, Ale," the coach said with a nod, clapping his hands, before motioning her toward the ice box to join the others for a quick breather, then turned to confer with his assistants, dark eyes still sweeping the field.

Alexia made her way over, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath, legs feeling the strain of the last intense drill.

Reaching out for a chilled water bottle passed her way, and taking a long, refreshing gulp, the cool liquid was a welcome relief, soothing her dry throat as sweat traced down her forehead and neck.

"Nice work out there. Good job, Ale," Mapi said with a grin, giving the captain's shoulder a solid pat as Alexia sank onto the bench beside her, still working to catch her breath.

"Decent," the two time Ballon D'Or winner replied, voice rough and laced with fatigue, as she opened the bottle to gulp down more water.

Her response had Mapi raise an eyebrow, the defender studying the team captain.

"Decent?"

Mapi's tone was amused, though a bit puzzled. She leaned in, nudging Alexia's shoulder, almost causing the athlete to spill her drink.

"Yes, decent," the midfielder shrugged, polishing off the bottle before pouring the last few drops over her neck.

November or not, it was still warm under the Catalonian sun.

"Decent isn't enough. I'll get back out there for some more drills. Enjoy your afternoon, Mapi." Alexia's gaze drifted toward the balls still scattered around the pitch, the goal gleaming in the distance. Her lips tightened with resolve, pressing into a flat line. "On Saturday, I'll be better than decent."

And with that, the two-time Ballon d'Or winner rises with a new spark in her eyes, reaching out to retrieve another bottle of water from the ice box, before she slipped back towards the pitch to continue her workout.

⬇️⭐️⬇️