Football One Shots

Lionel Messi

This is more of a Neymessi friendship piece.

Messi is a God.
He's the best footballer of all time.
Messi is a magician.
He's magnificent.
He's unstoppable.
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I don't particularly favor labels. They're pestering assumptions that give me obligations. Obligations that I am then expected to fulfill, and when I can't, I'm no longer number one, but POSSIBLY number two to Ronaldo because he had a great footballing week. One mistake brings a whole uprise of question on whether or not I'm worthy of being the best. One bad game brings statements of all kinds from coaches all over that are offering their opinions on my performance; an opinion I never asked for. No one had ever stopped to think that maybe I am human, maybe I do make mistakes; maybe I can't be perfect every game, but I damn well give it my all.
I can never wrap my head around the idea of other people believing that they have some sort of superiority over my playing. I can never wrap my head around the idea of people, especially coaches, believe they are allowed to tell me of my future. Tell me whether or not I'll always be the best; if I'll always be at the top, or if I'm deserving of all my achievements. The level of irritation I feel, after the whistle of any bad game, is high, because I know as soon as I enter the locker room, I will hear statements about my performance, about how I should have done more; tried harder; been more focused. I never let these opinions affect my game, but I can't always let them go right away. Sometimes, I hang onto something Guardiola has said about me, but as soon as I step onto the field, it dissipates.
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I was in deep thought, trying to comprehend the latest comments on my performance against Man City, when Neymar approached me from the vending machine he found around the mall we were at.
"Whatcha thinking about Leo?" He took a swig of his Cherry Coke.
"The usual. What I did wrong in the game and how I can fix it." I sighed.
"So you mean you're thinking about what the people are saying?" Neymar leaned against the cement wall and propped one foot against it.
"Yeah." I chuckled.
"Leo, tell me, do you believe what these people say about you?" Another swig.
"Come on Ney, you know I don't give two fucks about what they think."
"Then why are you focusing on what the media says? Why are you down about a dumb comment or two? They aren't you, they can't read your mind, they don't know what's going on in that genius brain of yours." His cold pointer finger thumped against my forehead.
"I guess you're right. I'm being ridiculous and wasting my time. Thanks Ney." I patted his cheek lightly and placed a small kiss there.
"I'm practically your therapist Leo, it's my job." He chuckled and looped his arm with mine.
"If anything, you need a therapist. I sometimes question your sanity Neymar." I held a serious face, but quickly lost it to my growing smile and light cackles.
Neymar lightly punched my arm and mumbled under his breath.
"Whatever Leo. You love me."
"That I do Ney." I pulled him along to the parking lot and stuffed him into the passenger seat of my car.
The radio was turned on and the first song that came on was 'Fake Love' by Drake. Neymar and I jammed out the whole way to my house, screaming the lyrics to music and dancing wildly. The smile on my face was evidence of how much Neymar made me forget my stress and issues, even if it is just for a few minutes.
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Just something short for y'all!