Bam....baam...baam... the earth resonates. It's 5 in the morning. Who is throwing tantrums and vandalizing the neighborhood's sleep? It feels like someone is banging Clyde's head with a hammer. Clyde sits upright and peeks through the window, "Oh, it's crazy Jack. That lad is so friggin stupid." A lady next door wakes up and starts yelling, "NOT AGAIN JACKY, YOU DIDN'T, I AM GOING TO KICK YOU AND YOUR FAMILY OUT, OF THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD, I PROMISE." "Sorry miss Granger, it is my trial today, I am gonna nail it and never come back near your shitty old shack I promise," speaks out crazy Jack. "Forgive my son Miss Granger, HE JUST DOESN'T KNOW ANY MANNERS", Mrs. Lucy bursts out from the house clobbered with a football. She comes out, rubbing his eyes, and like a robot moving on autopilot grabs Jack by the neck and escorts him inside. "WHOSE RESPONSIBILITY IS IT TO TEACH THE BOY, MISS?", cries out old Granger.
"I am telling you, mommy, I am gonna nail it today. I heard the scout from Manchester is gonna be here today. It's my last day in this dump." "LAANGUAGE, your grandfather sweated to his last breath to leave this place for us", cries out Jack's mom. Jack's father died when he was just two. Lucy and Jack then moved to Gloucestershire, to Jack's grandfather's house. Lucy initially struggled, but with the Insurance Job, she managed to look after Jack. Jack loves football. Well, it is an oversimplification. He worships football. Jack starts his day smashing balls against the wall and ends his day watching all the PL matches. He wasn't like this from the start. "Shy, introvert and a bookworm", as Jack's 5th-grade teacher told. But something happened, something in between turned Jack's world upside down. Jack's world centered around football by the time he was 14. "You're too old, kids aged 6 kick it better than ya, give up and go back to the library nerdd." Jack was stupid. He didn't listen. He got himself into a rowdy club of amateurs, playing the odd match whenever he can. When the club didn't have a match, he just found another club willing to play a match. Jack heard that to be a pro you need to wake up at 5 and start training, run a minimum of 20 miles a day, and play a practice match every evening. And slowly, he started playing well and caught some attention. Yet, "The boy is good, but he can't be a pro, he is too old, he better stick to studies. Somethings are never meant for a person," whispers clouded Lucy's ears and drowned her in a cloud of uncertainty. "My boy, please listen to me, you are not meant for this, if you just study, you are gonna end up in Cambridge or something." Jack rejected, "I am gonna play for the devils, mom. Just wait, Fergie is gonna love me."
Goaal.... the trial session had just begun and Jack smoked a belter. People watched in awe. A gentleman in sweatpants is sitting at the side bench, watching closely and taking notes. Mr. Gibs, the ever-curious and Jack's amateur teammate, gets close and inquires politely, "What do you see, sir?" "Good, but the boy lacks vision, he looks only flair and nothing to me." Jack dribbles past three and has a shot on goal, but clips the post. "Huh! If Fergie would've been here, maybe he would've chosen him instead of that boy from Sporting, hahaha". The gentleman is unbothered.
The game concludes, and Jack scored three. He takes the match ball, and moves slowly towards the gentleman, still taking notes. As Jacky gets closer, the gentleman gets up, wakes close to Jack, and says, "There's something wrong with your legs boy, get it checked". He pops his ballpen and leaves. Jack is confused, what did he mean? Is he so good, that the gentleman asked to check his godly legs? Manchester is CONFIRMED!
No, Icarus, "Osteoarthritis", the doctor said. Lucy cried. Jack didn't understand the cost, he has reached the sun!
It is 2022, and Mr. Jackson is in the teacher's room. "Mr. Jackson, it's David again, he is skipping my classes again and is creating HAVOC!", the outcry of Miss Olivier shatters the peace of winter morning. Mr. Jackson, the ever-diligent class teacher says he is going to have a look. Jack walks over to the football, it is snowing outside. Mr. Jackson walks outside and opens the umbrella, snow just got heavier. He sees the boy and tries to get closer, but suddenly froze, like somebody just kicked the soul out of his body. What does he see? He sees a young Jack, kicking a snowball.
“It is a hard thing to live haunted by the ghost of an untrue dream; to see the wide vision of empire fade into real ashes and dirt.”
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