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It’s been a while since I’ve wanted to win a game this badly. The semi-finals are right around the corner, along with our dream to win the Champions League. Knowing that Roxy is here tonight adds an extra layer of pressure. I want her to have a rollicking time. I want to offer her a good show. I want to see the joy in her eyes when we finally come out the winners.
In the locker rooms, Alistair, our manager delivers his usual halftime speech, but it’s not necessary. We all know what we have to do, what’s at stake. And we all want the prize.
“Good job out there,” Craig, the forward coach, bellows as he slaps me on the back. “Just watch out for Carniglioli. He’s been on your tail. Don’t want to get injured now.”
“Got him,” I say. “I’m good.”
His face hardens. “I mean it, Wade. Don’t go crazy trying to score. If we make it through, we’ll need you for the rest of the league.”
I nod and take a large swig of water. I did take a few risks trying to score. He’s right, I need to be careful. I’ll be of no use if I’m on the bench.
I spend the remainder of the halftime period talking strategy with my teammates and hydrating. My head is in the game, as always, and I’m eager to get back out there.
Finally, the moment arrives. We jog back onto the pitch, listen to Alistair’s final instructions, and get back into positions as the referee blows his whistle, officially resuming the game.
We suffer at the beginning of this second half. Hans almost concedes a goal right out of the gate, but we fight through it. The scoring opportunities are slim, so we consolidate our defence to maintain the upper hand.
When the referee whistles to signal the end of the match, excitement and relief flood through me. This was a tough one. Probably the toughest match of the competition so far, but we made it through. With this win, we’re a little closer to our dream.
All I want right now is to change into some clean clothes and find Roxy. It wasn’t our most exciting match, so I hope she still had a good time. But before I can find out, I have to participate in the usual post-match shenanigans—the interviews.
Bob, a journalist for SkySports, is the first to call my name when I get to the press corner.
“Wade, how would you sum up tonight’s game?”
“I’d say it was a good night,” I reply, wiping the sweat from my brow. “We were focused on our goal, and we rose to the challenge. But it definitely wasn’t easy.” I smirk at the memory. “Milan is a great team, and I have a lot of respect for the way they play, but I’m glad we managed to steal this win.”
“You scored the only goal tonight, the winning goal,” Bob exclaims, his eyes gleaming. “You’re the second highest goalscorer in the Premier League and the first in this year’s Champions League so far. How do you feel about that?”
I breathe out a low chuckle and cross my arms over my chest. “Good, obviously. I love football, and scoring goals is always immensely rewarding. But, you know, football is a collaborative game, so it’s not just about me. Yeah, it was a good night for me personally, but more importantly, it was a splendid night for the team. We’re now moving on to the semi-finals, so we’re going to focus on preparing for that.”
“How far do you think you’ll go?”
“As far as we can. We always play for the win. Always shoot for the stars.”
He smiles and bumps my fist. “Always. Thanks for stopping by.”
Next, it’s Julia’s turn. She’s from the Sport Today channel. Actually, she and I kind of had a thing a couple years back. And by ‘a thing,’ I mean we spent a single night together. She basically asks the same things Bob did, and I mirror my answers.
I’m about to head out to the next reporter when Julia adds, “I noticed your new girlfriend is here tonight. So, I guess you are serious, then.” Her tone is sharp, and I’m not sure whether it’s still part of the interview.
“Oh . . . Yeah,” I mumble, glancing around.
She narrows her eyes at me, as if trying to get inside my brain. “I thought you didn’t do the whole ‘girlfriend’ thing.”
Oh, boy. Here we go.
When our fling had run its course, Julia kept calling me up and asking me out, but I broke it to her that I wasn’t looking for more. She knew it from the start. I guess she just hoped she could change my mind.
“I wasn’t planning on it, but things changed. Roxy’s different.” She really is—on so many levels. She’s not here for the money or the attention. She doesn’t seem to crave the spotlight, but she grits through it for me. She’s discreet, funny, sincere. Honestly, I’m lucky to have her by my side.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she growls, her lips tightening into a flat line.
Roxy
That game was just phenomenal! I never thought watching a football match could evoke so many emotions—joy, anxiety, stress, anger, frustration, relief. I’m drained, yet still wired. Because my team is moving on to the semi-finals next month.
Lina and I are standing on the edge of the pitch, which is the strangest feeling. Like we’re not allowed to be here, and we’re walking on sacred ground. But in reality, a whole host of people with VIP or press lanyards are here. Wade said he’d meet us here once things die down.
