The Twelth Player

Chapter 8 - The Away Game and Lost Memories

It was early Saturday morning, and the team was gearing up for a long trip. A cup match far from home. Exactly the kind of trip I normally hate—hours stuck on a bus with sore legs, trying to find some comfortable position, all for a game that could go either way. But this time, it was a bit different because it was the cup, and everyone at Union took it seriously. Even me, because this was a chance to get to the next round and play against first league teams. The kind of teams I wanted to face again.

I packed my bag and headed to the stadium where we were supposed to meet. As soon as I stood at the bus stop, my phone buzzed. I looked at the screen, and of course—Mom. I got a message: "Matti, don't forget to take enough water, stay hydrated! And please, be careful, don't get hurt. You know how much I worry about you!"

I quickly replied, something like, "Yeah, Mom, I've got everything, don't worry." But barely had I sent it when another message came in: "And don't forget your phone charger, you know how it always runs out. Did you take the knee bandages that help?"

I sighed and scratched my head. Why does she always have to remind me? I'm a grown man, damn it. It's just a match. But she clearly wouldn't let it go. When I got on the bus and checked my messages, there were a few more. "Let me know when you get there, that you're okay." And, "Matti, when you get a minute, call me. We love you too."

I felt a mix of gratitude and frustration. It's nice someone cares about me, but why does it have to be so intense? Like she still thinks I'm the little kid who can't take care of himself. I put the phone in my pocket and tried not to think about it.

The trip ended up being worth it. We played hard, stuck together on the field as one team, and although it was a tough battle, we managed to beat the opponents 2-1. It was the kind of game where we had to give it our all—every tackle, every sprint, every ball needed to be handled to the max. When the ref blew the whistle and we won, the entire bench stood up and started shouting with joy. It was like we'd just won the World Cup.

After the match, the locker room was lively. "Next round of the cup, guys!" shouted Taro, our captain, as we all laughed and slapped each other on the back. Moments like that make it all worth it. But when I checked my phone, there was another message from Mom: "How did it go, Matti? Are you okay? Did nothing happen?"

This time, I didn't even reply. I just sighed. Whatever I wrote, there'd be another question or reminder. So I put the phone away and tried to focus on enjoying the win.

Thursday. Picking up Katie had almost become a routine. But I was looking forward to sitting with Elina for a bit. I was starting to really appreciate those quiet moments when we could talk about anything, without any pressure or pretense. She was just the perfect listener—never judgmental, never interrupting. And she always had that ability to say something that helped you see things in a new light.

When I arrived at the Union Kids Center, I saw Elina sitting on a bench, drawing something while kids ran around her. I sat down next to her, and she looked up, smiled, and said calmly, "Hey, Matti."

"Hey, Eli," I replied, feeling my mood instantly lift just by seeing her. "You know what? I gotta vent today. I really need to tell someone."

"Go ahead," she smiled, closed her notebook, and got ready to listen. "I'm all ears."

"It's this with my mom," I started, shaking my head. "She keeps texting me, reminding me of things. She messaged me on the trip, telling me to be careful, don't forget this and that. She always feels like she has to look out for me. I don't know how to tell her I can handle it myself. It's endless. I'm an adult, but she still feels the need to keep an eye on me. I get it, she's worried about me, but it's starting to drive me crazy."