Lose Yourself

Prologue

Football, much like the measles, ought to be caught when young. Pierre had barely begun to walk when his father rolled a football towards him and told him to kick it. The fever set in almost as soon as the young Gabonese's tiny boot made contact.

Pierre himself could but dimly recall the incident, but even as an adolescent roaming the streets of France, he knew his life would be vastly different if his father had directed his interest towards something else. For the first eight years of his life, football was all he knew how to do. Completely heedless of teachers and fellow students alike, he seemed to float through school with his head in the clouds, only to return to earth when it was time to play football again. He was fast, faster than any of the other kids, and every day seemed to bring a new way to control the ball with his feet, to flick it over his head, or through his opponent's legs. When he had a football at his feet, no one could tell him he wasn't good enough. Not like they did in school classes.

"I worry about you, mon fils," Pierre's father eyed him concernedly, as he watched his son playing football by himself in the family's backyard in Laval. The yard wasn't small, but it was almost entirely taken up by the goal posts and open area which used to be grassed, but had almost completely worn away due to near-incessant use.

"Why, papa?" The boy brushed his dark hair from his eyes, and turned briefly to glance at his father.

"The other kids in the neighbourhood always play football together, but I never see you with them."

"They don't like me to play," Pierre shrugged. He tried not to show it, but he was a little bothered by this fact himself. "They say I am too fast when we play at school."

His father watched him a while longer, deep in thought. In truth, the thought that his son was lonely had been bothering him for some time. He had even gone so far as to hold off enrolling Pierre in a football academy, hoping that the young boy would learn how to make friends first before he became completely enveloped in the game. But perhaps this was something he actually needed.

Things were better for Pierre once he did join the academy. Of course, he still had to go to school, but now he had an outlet for the boundless amount of energy he seemed to possess. He was always the first one out of the changing rooms, and often kicking the ball about for a good ten minutes before training officially began. The other kids at the academy were just like him, and they admired him for his speed and agility with the ball. Knowing that he was accepted for who he was felt like a wave of relief to his father, who tried not to crowd his son, but couldn't help worrying. Pierre found it easier to concentrate in his school classes, bringing his intelligence to a respectable level for an eight year old. He was no longer the erratic scatter brain that none of the teachers wanted to deal with, and the other kids didn't mind interacting with him. However, it seemed that he would always be one of those people who was friends with all the world, but best friends with none of it.

That, however, was destined to change.

In the summer break, the year that Pierre turned ten years old, a new family moved to the neighbourhood with a son about Pierre's age, who they enrolled in the same football academy. Pierre met him for the first time at training, when as usual, he rushed out of the changing rooms to enjoy the empty pitch before anyone else arrived, only to see there was another kid there before him. The boy was of a stocky build, with a dark complexion much like Pierre himself, and was maybe a little younger than him. He was balancing a football on top of his right boot, before flicking it around and catching it again. Pierre watched for a moment, impressed despite himself. He wanted to be angry at this newcomer for robbing him of his ten minutes solitude before training, but something about him made Pierre want to be friendly to him. The fact that the young Gabonese did not make friends easily was usually what prevented him from voluntarily speaking to others, but this boy looked as lonely as he did.