blue roses

Oppenheimer

Royale Madrid vs Bastard München

If you're not up-to-date in the football industry, here's a short summary.

You might've heard about the great Royale Madrid and the triumphant Bastard München, right? The way both clubs are well known all over the world, the way no football fan can forgive themselves for missing out on having their eyes locked on their plays, their members, their various matches?

It's already exciting enough to cheer for your favorite club, their popularity is simply a bonus. But when their opponents are just as good as your favorite, nothing can compare to the sensational feeling inside of your chest, your heart.

Today was one of those thrilling moments, those exceedingly expected situations in life when you're just happy to be a part of such a big event, screaming your soul out whilst you forget- even if it's just for 90 minutes- your worst worries and stress.

The stadium has been filled with thousands-no millions of people, women and men, young and old. Their shouts could be heard from kilometers away, the brightness inside of the soon-to-be battlefield rising into the shady night, lighting up the whole sky with vivid, multicolored lights and excitement.

The separate teams were currently discussing their formations, their structure when stepping onto the grassy field. Goalkeepers (GK), Center Backs (CB), Central Midfielders (CM), Center Forwards (CF) were decided for today's match.

In other words, the starting 11.

Within this chaotic event were the eyes of a young girl whose focus was merely on the audience. The cheers erupting from the stands she used to sit at everyday for the past 2 weeks seemed to move in slow-motion, slow like a turtle, slow like a sloth. In her mind, there was this lack of belief. She couldn't believe that she stood here now, right beside the field too. She had an awesome view on the grass, the goals, the players, perfect to observe the them.

When she was a little girl it was her sole dream to be standing on a football field like the one in front of her right now. She wanted to be the center of attention. She wanted to have every single eye locked on her figure, moving past opponents, enemies, destroying and devouring them. However, she soon came to the realization that that dream was impossible for her to achieve. There has always been this small factor that created a huge problem.

Her gender.

In her opinion, the female football community was a joke. It was not like the women were bad or anything (they are), but nobody cared about women's football the same way people did with men's football.

Be honest, do you know a single female football player?

Once she became aware of the fact that she'll never have a career just as successful as that of a man, she gave up on her dream. It would've been useless to waste your time with a career you know damn well will fail at the end.

On the other hand, despite her growing excitement, there was this feeling inside of her chest. That surreal feeling of something bitter that has been creeping up her whole body, consuming her for the past few days. Every day, it seemed like that feeling, that virus- at least that's what she named it- drastically increased, expanded and there seemed to be no cure to heal it.

It was indescribable, too complex to explain, but she knew well that it harms her, damages her from the inside out.

Ý̵̧̥̟̗̙͉̗̪̳̥͔̟̬͒͗̅̈́͒̾̕͜͜ô̴̰̣͕͚̘̹̘̕u̶̢̧̹͈̲̪̙̥͙͊̏ͅ'̷̨̮̱͙̞͈̼͉͕̤̙̫̀̍̅͋̈́̒̒̄̚͜͝r̸̫͒e̶͙̍̿ ̶̧̢̖̞̲̺͓̙̝̗̻͎͉͇̏͊͋̓̚ͅn̶̛̼͈̝̱̒̅̃̒̉̉͒̍̈̒̿͘ǫ̴̩̭͐̈͋̽t̴̢͇̩͕̭̣͓̠͎͓̼̠̟̯̉͋̀̍̀ ̶̹̼́̊w̷̫̫͊̾̅̾͘͝͠o̵̧̪̥̼̣̮̩͎͈̦̳̞̘̎͒͆̀̈́̓͆̿͗̑͛̌̐̚͜r̸̛̜̗͉̱̯̩͚̻̞͚͍̺̄͌̊̊͂̌͗͝͝͝ͅt̴̳͈͐͗̎̔̚͠ĥ̵̨̻̝̰̲̱͓̗̻͔̄̍y̸̨̧͇̘̔͌̐̆͋͆͌̇͂̎̋̿ ̶̡͚͕̭̹̝̯̻̟͉͖̹̠́̒̀͂̀̐̀̀͊̾̚̕͠ͅo̸̢̗͍̯͓̫̜̠̳̜̒̒̇̂̓͠f̸̢̧̗̰͈̦͍͕̤͉͋̄̂̿̓̿͑̈́̓͊͜ ̵͓̌̔͆̉̀̔͠s̵͙̦͍̗̣̩̄́̀̂̒͜t̶̞͚̐̈́͒̋̊ą̵̼̲̬̖̰͙͉̲̬̯͎̗̃̐̐͗͐n̶̝̤̟̩̮͗̽̿̏͝d̵̻̥̦̖̱̯͝ḯ̸̛̲̝̳͖̹̥̇ͅň̶̨̛̗̮͚͓̯͕͊̑̋̉͒̇̓͑̔̃ǵ̴̢̧̨̩̼̼̤̼̹̗͙̣ ̴̧̥̬̱͓͕̫̪̳́̏̽̑͒͝ḧ̶̢̛̰̣̪̝̗͎̞̘͔̳͉̘̯͍̈̅̓̐͘͠͝͠ę̶̧̰̟͓̬̬͓͈͈̝̻̓̄̅̒͛̓̐̓̀͘r̵̡̯̭͑͒̅͜e̶̡̢͙̖̜̝͔̱̊̽̽͗̋̃͛͆͘͝