Happy New Year my mother has been in the hospital giving birth to my sister messing up my upload schedule.
- From the title of the Story, you can already tell what type of vibe we on.
[Monday, 30/092019, 11:15, – Via Roma, Turin, Italy]
Ignoring Eva my gaze travelled towards the figure of an elderly man sitting on a bench, sketching the skyline with impressive precision. His easel was battered, and his hands trembled slightly, but his focus was unwavering. The way his hands danced on the canvas was a mesmerizing sight and before I realized I was sitting adjacent to him on a nearby bench watching him paint.
Beautiful work," I commented, admiring the intricate details of his sketch the moment he put down his brush. He glanced up, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Grazie, giovane. You like art?"
"I appreciate it," I said honestly. "But I could never create something like that." I truthfully responded as I looked at the painting depicting the image of the street as the rising sun cast a beautiful glow.
He chuckled. "Everyone has their art. What is yours?" Hesitating for a moment I confidently answered him. "Football."
"Ah," he exclaimed with a bright smile before proceeding to fish in his bag pulling out an iPhone 5 after a few moments. It looked as new as if it had just left its box a few days ago and looking at the careful nature he handled it as if he was trying to solve pie told me all I needed to know. "The kind of art that makes people dream. Don't underestimate its value."
A moment later he showed me a picture of him and Diego Maradona standing next to each other. Flicking to the next page I saw a picture of him a couple of years older standing next to an alien Inter Milan kit. If that wasn't enough the next picture showed him standing next to the smiling magician Ronaldinho Gaúcho himself in an AC Milan kit.
Before I even realized I was flipping through his gallery looking at one Seria A Icon after another and each time he was posing with them. The pictures weren't fake either as there weren't any similarities in the pictures, some were even in casual locations like a Cafe. Pirlo, Baggio, Maldini, Zanetti and Nesta were just a few of the notable names that I could recognize. The one that broke the camel was the picture with my favourite player donning a black and white Juve kit.
'Hey Eva, I'm starting to think that this guy might be the Main Character,' I found myself saying not willing to accept that this old man is just that lucky to meet all these legends who have shaped Italian football. 'With his luck, he ming have a signing system,'
{Would like for me to request a one-time memory wipe procedure due to mental trauma?} she simply questioned with a neutral tone, giving me the feeling that even she was flabbergasted at this turn of events.
"Sigh, Wait is that, Garry Nevel?" I asked the old man caught completely off guard at seeing the Englishman's face after seeing so many Seria A Icons. "Haha Yes, Garry is ok despite being English," he stated as I handed him his phone prompting a few anecdotes on how the two had met.
"Marco, let's get a picture together," I told the man after seeing quite a while conversing with him about this and that. Listening to him talk about his adventures travelling around the country following his hobby of drawing and watching football.
The fact he isn't even from a rich family and simply earned his wealth along the way made his story much more interesting. By the end of his narration of how he witnessed the Great Maradona lift the Seria A trophy in 1987 with Napoli. By the end of it, I had truly become his fan wondering how Netflix hasn't picked up his movie rights yet.
He didn't let my request down either as he quickly acquiesced to my request. "Sure, I wouldn't miss the chance to get a picture with a future king of the pitch, though I doubt you will have an easy time against the old lady tomorrow." He responded with a bright smile, surprising me with the fact he not only knew I was a footballer but also who I was.
"Hahaha, make sure to watch the game then Marco, I will show you my art against my Idol," I replied with a bright smile before we proceeded to take the pictures one for him and another for me on my phone.
[12:30 – A Random Skate Park, Turin, Italy]
After saying goodbye to Marco, I continued exploring the city and found myself at a skate park nestled next to a street football court. The area was alive with energy—skaters executing tricks on ramps while a 5-vs-5 Street football match drew a lively crowd. The court was small, enclosed by metal fences, with graffiti covering every surface.
That added with the viewers banging against the fence added a lively aura to the ongoing match as the players pulled into their bag of tricks. One of the players, a wiry teenager with messy hair and a Barcelona jersey, caught my eye. He moved with confidence, weaving past a defender before performing a rainbow flick over the next one to send a pass to his teammate.
The Bald man with a Brazil R9 kit chested the ball down before rifling a shot towards goal not giving the keeper a chance to react. "Whoooo, let's go Carlo (Bom, Bom, Bom)," A few eager spectators exclaimed before proceeding to bang the metal fence causing a chain reaction.
The game wasn't over though as the team that had just conceded kicked off quickly. A slightly chubby boy wearing a Messi kit picked up the ball and proceeded to dribble through the opposing team. You heard me right dribble not bulldoze, the man was practically a ballerina as he glided past the opposing team.
"Amazing right, that is Turin FC little Messi. If not for this weight he would be playing Juve Academy and Ronaldo if Sarri wasn't blind. Plus, he's only 14 so the moment he locks in like Kai Cenat he's going to be the Messi of Italy and not just Turin," a voice called out, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned to see a young boy, probably no older than ten, staring up at me with shining eyes.
"You're right his technical skills are a notch above the rest, but if he doesn't lock in as you said little man his ankles will give out," I honestly responded already seeing the unnecessary strain his ankles were placed under. Having spent most of my football journey working on strengthening my ankle strength and mobility spotting, this wasn't hard.
However, this guy's problem wasn't the same as mine where I worked to prevent future injuries caused by tackles and my own skills. His problem caused by his weight was forcing his ankles to work at 120% every time he performed a change of direction at high speed. The best way to describe it would be that his ankles and knees were forced to bear the pressure of all his extra fat and would eventually give out like overused F1 tyres.
"Liar My Big brother is just fine he is going to be as good as Messi" the boy retorted after hearing my words snapping me out of my thoughts. "Sure, I simply responded seeing no need to argue with a kid on my day off.
"hmpf, you're just jealous of his talent," He retorted before running off to find his brother who had just scored the wing goal with a self-assisted overhead kick. Sighing at this, I simply leaned against the fence looking into the park, feeling the urge to try my hand on the court.
"Hey did you call me fat, Monkey boy,"