Days passed by as rain pours into the ground, slowly, softly; no emotion. He didn't need emotions though, he needed relax, and that's exactly what he got. Isolation. Time to think, to find out what the hell did he want. Because one of his biggest problems was that he didn't know what he wanted, or sometimes he wanted too many things. And when finally, he had a clear image of his desires, he didn't have enough courage to try to get it. He feared failure.
Tuesday arrived, and at six o'clock, he was already on the field, prepared to beat himself, to let his mind apart, and focus on his body, on the ball. He could feel it touching his right foot, just as it had been for the last three years, each Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. But now he was on a different country, with different people; he felt just like the first day he entered in the team back in Barcelona. However, he felt no shame nor fear, he loved the feeling of having everything to do, starting again, just like at the old days. Those men had done no judgment yet, hadn't formed any idea of how he was. And he liked that.
After 30 minutes of jogging, running and jumping (the physical preparation for the upcoming season), what he called the 'real training' started. He got a yellow bib, and a ball, the only ball in the field. He lead the ball to the small point in the center circle, and he passed it to Tim. Tim was a strong man, one of the few non-Latinos of the team. When he laughed, his jaw seemed to get off his face, moving forward eagerly. The next days, he started a friendship with that funny man, sharing the same hobby (football), but also the same addiction (tobacco).
That's why at the end of the training, he asked Tim if he could get some cigarettes for him. He had difficulties explaining himself with the term of hand rolling tobacco; the colloquial words lacking in his vocabulary. “I don't know what you mean, but it should be easy to find some regular cigarettes”. “Well...where?” “Hey, you can ask around in your school, you'll find someone for sure”. “I don't go to school here, I'm on vacation” he said, thinking that Tim should already know that. “Well...okay, so I'll get it for you, it's easy, no problem. I'll bring it to the practice, and then we make the exchange. Cool?” “Yeah, perfect”. So he had fixed the mistake of bringing little tobacco for the trip by buying as much as he needed. He was excited, but also exhausted. So when he arrived home, he locked himself in his room, he prepared a bath, and with a cigarette in his right hand and a margarita (found in her uncle's pantry) in his left, he quietly celebrated the occasion.
