27 Isaac vs Barcelona

Mila watched the scenes before her, with her eyes wide open and her mouth agape. Patrick Woods walked around the room, his hands on his head. Hanging in the air was absolute shock, so much that nobody in the room could speak.

"He's legit..." Was all Mila could say.

Patrick nodded, and fell onto the couch.

"He might even develop to be better then messi and ronaldo, if he can perform at this level. With a little experience..." Patrick muttered.

"I think he is the best player in the world." Mila announced, as she watched Isaac celebrating.

"Nah... Mbappe, Bellingham and Haaland have both skill and experience. It would be more fair to say that he is the most talented player in the world."

"Hmph! You're not even backing your recruit. What sort of a scout are you?"

Patrick let out a bitter chuckle.

"I'm simply being a realist."

Mila turned away with a snort before she returned her gaze to the television.

As she watched Isaac's dazzling smile, she wanted what would become of this great star.

Either way, with talents like Bellingham, Musiala, Mbappe, and Haaland, she was confident football had a bright future. It used to be simply Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo competing for the spotlight, but now things would be different.

Things would be better.

It would be a battle royale filled with numerous talents, all of them fighting for a place at the top.

***

Isaac ran toward the stands, before he stopped. Then he just stood there, his hands on his hips, his eyes closed, and his head raised to the heaven.

Isaac calmed himself, carefully experiencing every little joy that intricately snaked its way through his veins.

The crowds shouts filled his eardrums, and the smell of his sweat was somehow extremely pleasant.

Isaac felt joy, and disbelief.

He felt his teammates run at him and hug him, all of them piling up until he fell to the ground. Soon a mass of bodies, both from the reserves and the infield players lay atop Isaac.

Isaac couldn't breathe.

After he got free, many came to him and smacked his back, other's giving him single words of praise.

4 goals, and 1 assist. It was stunning. He was stunning.

There was a little more then a few dozen seconds left to the end of the game. Antwerp stood in position, ready to ward off Barcelona.

However, Barcelona had decided they would get the goal back. As soon as the whistle blew, they were attacking Antwerp, looking for a goal.

"Just a few more seconds..." Isaac thought to himself as Barcelona patiently passed around just before Antwerp's box, looking for an opening. Oriel Romeu played a pass to the right, where Sergi Roberto received it. He watched the box carefully, before he pulled back his leg.

A cross!?

No. A Cruyff turn. The feint threw off the player marking him, letting him play a pass into a pocket of space where Lamine Yamal waited.

One sweet touch to his right, and he lost the single defender on him. The left center back charged at him, but he confidently faced the defender.

He dropped his shoulder to the side.

The defender misstepped.

As delicately as a needle through cotton, the talented youngster slipped behind the defense.

Isaac felt his heart skip a beat.

Surely, it couldn't be?

His hard work couldn't go to waste... could it?

Lamine Yamal changed his body position so he could easier shoot with his left leg. He pulled it back, and swung it.

It connected beautifully, and the result was a low and satisfying 'thud'.

The ball spun through the air, like a top. It drifted toward the far post of the goal, forcing a reaction out of the keeper.

The keeper crouched, before like a frog, he leapt at the ball. His hand stretched to reach it, a desperate attempt to keep the game a draw.

Isaac watched anxiously, as his fate was steered closer, and closer, to the edge of a cliff. They were about to fall, but would they?

He had to trust the keeper. Isaac had done his job to his fullest extent, he just had to leave the rest to his teammates.

Time seemed to slow; Seconds seemed to be equivalent to years-decades even-on the scale of time. It was like a thriller series, the moment seemed to be stretched into an eternity, making one hunger and thirst for what was next.

What was next?

Isaac needed to know. He had to know whether to rejoice with a sigh of relief or... or to bow his head in despair and grief. He needed to know...

The keeper looked like he could get it... he could get it!

His fingers drew closer to the ball, and it drew closer.

It made contact...

Just a graze...

Would it be enough? Would the change in a few mere inches be enough?

Miracle after miracle, it was how Isaac had gotten this far.

It was not figurative too.

He needed one last miracle. It was now that he needed it.

Nothing materialistic lasted forever.

Were miracles too, simply a product of materialism?

Would it last?

The ball drew closer, and closer to its deciding moment.

Wait, it looked like it was hitting the post. Would it hit? Would that be enough to save them.

Isaac felt his heart tremble.

The ball grazed the post...

It went in.

Isaac fell to his knees.

~~~

Isaac looked up to see the time on the stadium watch. There was no time.

He looked at the Barcelona players celebrating. They would be the victors.

"The light couldn't shine everywhere, huh?"

For one to gain, another had to lose.

There was no more then one winner, and everyone besides that winner was considered to have failed.

One victor, one vanquished.

It was how life worked, football was a part of life.

Like a robot, Isaac forced himself to stand and wait for the whistle to blow. He did it because he had to, he had no will. He had no want.

The game restarted.

FWEE!

Vincent Janssen passed the ball into midfield.

Maybe there was...

FWEE FWEE FWEE!

A chance...