Football One Shots

Neymar Júnior: Unlikely Circumstances

Struggling to find a place in this world was all I ever knew. To pass the math test, everybody easily passed, but I managed to failed. I could look at a word I've known how to spell since first grade and twelve years later wonder, "Is this how you spell 'great?'" It's not a guessing game, but if it were, the easiest bet is placed on me to mess up.

I learned when I was younger not to expect much. It's mostly a disappointment, and the few times it's not; you'll be so thankful and happy. I've always set the bar low enough that anything above it was a success. It kind of sucks though when you're already low expectations aren't met.

I realized ten years too late all I ever wanted to be was a professional athlete, singer, or actor. I also learned that no matter how hard I could try, I'll never be able to sing well enough and I'll never be able to speak in front of others well enough. I did realize that if ten years ago I started practicing, maybe I could've been a professional athlete. I learned that, and I learned it too late; but it's not really a big shock. My life is a big joke and I can't help but wonder what I did to deserve it in a past life? Of course, that doesn't mean I'm bitter. Not at all, maybe sometimes I wonder why it happens to me.

June twenty-fourth was the day everything changed. It wasn't just the day of my high school graduation, but it was also the day that my entire life changed. I woke up early, and became so excited and anxious to know in a few hours I'd be graduating the place I've hated since elementary school. Every minute that passed brought a bigger smile on my face because it was another minute closer. I could barely wait to graduate.

There was a speaker, he told us the same speech he told the previous ten classes. Then the valedictorian gave his speech and made everybody in that room believe they were one of those good kids. You know, one of the good kids that didn't conform to high school standards. They were friends with everybody from the top of the popularity chain to the bottom. The type of kid that never teased anybody and was just an absolute amazing person. Too bad they weren't and what amazes me is every kid in the graduating class actually believes that.

I had climbed the three steps to get my diploma and I can't even begin to describe the feeling of that piece of paper in your hand, because though it's just a piece of paper, it's a symbol of all my hard work, of my desire to make something of my life, and that I made it through all those years of torture. Thirteen years of it.

I sat back down and stared at the piece of paper intently. Where did the time go? I remember standing on a field with a glove in my hand and hitting the ball off of the tee. Now, the tee is gone. All the things I said I didn't want anymore, all the things I wished would disappear and all the time I wished would fast forwards. I wanted it back then. I had so much to change and so little desire to do it.

Afterwards, gathered around the people that pretended they would keep in touch, even though they knew they wouldn't. They'd make empty promises to text each other while apart and when back home be sure to go out together. Though within a friend group of four, one person genuinely doesn't like a person that they've called their friend. Secretly wishing that they'd leave, so they'll never have to see them again.

An observer's point of view of the world is contrasting to a person that lives it. How is that possible? The observer wants nothing more than to be the person living it, that's how. But everybody breaks at one point or another, and that's how two opposites met.

Graduating and starting my own life scared me, so I jumped off the deep end a little bit. Okay, a lot. I had spent my entire life, that's eighteen years being the one observing instead of living and all I wanted to do was experience living. So, I called the person I knew would be up for anything and we went out together. We got massively drunk, and I had never drank in my life before. I can't even remember the first night we met.

All I remember is falling on the pavement and a guy with a hood and sunglasses picked me up. I don't remember him taking me back his place because my "friend" had disappeared and he couldn't just leave me on the side of the road. I don't remember me begging him to have sex with me. I can't recall him giving in eventually after I had undressed and started seducing him. I don't remember the night I lost my virginity.

I do remember waking up in a huge bed, with sheets covering me and a pounding headache. When I stood up I realized I was naked. I stole one of his shirts, I didn't know where I was and I didn't care. There wasn't a person in bed with me, so I figured they had left and I didn't care enough to leave. After all I had been drunk when I had sex. I crawled back into the unfamiliar bed and fell back asleep.

I woke up some time later and the headache was just kind of there. It was one of those things that wouldn't go away and it made you feel like utter shit, but you just kind of went on with life. I looked around and it really started to set in that I was in a stranger's house for who knows how long. I couldn't believe a stranger had left me alone because the house was filled with expensive items.

I opened the door and peaked at the hallway that was empty. I didn't even know where my clothes were. I opened a lot of different doors and finally found the living room and kitchen. I went into the kitchen and my jaw was hanging on the floor by then. Everything was expensive and I couldn't believe I had slept with some billionaire and I would never know who it was exactly, and I figured that was just how my life would always be.

Something on the kitchen counter attracted my attention. It was a piece of paper and a bottle of medicine. The note read,

Sorry I had to leave, if you can find this note, don't feel like I'm forcing you to leave. I'd actually like to talk to you, I feel quite terrible.

Just like out of a damn movie, the front door opened and all the sports memorabilia made sense to me. There in front of me was Neymar freaking Junior. He noticed me in the kitchen and smiled awkwardly at me, who was practically gaping at that man in front of me. I looked at the time and part of me couldn't believe I had slept almost the entire day away, but I wasn't really focused on that at that moment.

"I, uh, just found your note." I said awkwardly.

"Have you just woken up?" Neymar asked.

I smiled shyly and he chuckled and came over to me. He gave me an aspirin and my headache began to dwindle slowly.

"I'm glad you're still here because I feel terrible about taking advantage of you last night. I didn't intend to, but you just kept coming at me and I gave in and I know I shouldn't have. I do hope you forgive me." Neymar plead with the eyes to confirm he truly felt horrid.

"Yeah, I mean I've never gotten drunk before last night, but I guess I get a little sexual when I drink." I blurted.

I blushed immediately and he chuckled.

"You were quite wasted for your first time getting drunk." Neymar laughed.

I don't know how it happened, but we talked all night. He didn't even seem to find it weird that I was in his house for the second night in a row. Just like that my life had completely changed. All the bad luck and struggling had stopped and everything changed. All the bad qualities I thought were too bad for somebody to love, he did and all the regrets disappeared because he installed new memories in their space. I live in awe of him because no matter how many times he scores a goal, or how many times he gets called the best young player in the world, I still can't believe he's doing it.

That to me, is what makes Neymar Júnior so special. Not the goals or the name, but the little kid inside of him that decided he wanted to be a professional footballer and went out and became one of the best.

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Ngl I only wrote this cause I felt sad.