Time Loop

The roar echoed across the Estadio do Maracana and resonated across the whole of Rio. It was pandemonium as the players walked onto the field and took their positions. It was a very big moment for the nation, and adrenaline and excitement levels were at their peak.

Holding up my pass for the final, I crossed the street and slowly went to my place. There was the whistle, and the game was on. The crowd cheered and jeered, and hooted and booed as the game progressed; the reactions getting more and more pronounced as the clock ticked on.

“Hey kid, you enjoying the game,” the man next to me asked, as I turned towards him.

“Kid? What do you mean old man? I’m thir…”

“Teen,” he completed.

I looked at my hands, and noticed that the scars from training and my tattoos were missing.

“What the…” I swore as a whistle sounded and one of the Selecao fell to the ground clutching his ankle.

The players formed a huddle as one of them walked in slowly, looking a bit disoriented and shaken. His eyes bore into mine, and I saw a twinkle of recognition.

“You lost somewhere kid? Look there,” my neighbor called out to me as he shook me from the shoulders.

I screamed as I lost my footing and fell to the floor.

“Hey Ped, you okay idiota?”

“Ow,” I said rubbing my head on the floor beside my bed as Neymar looked at me with a curious look in his eyes.

“Just a bad dream tonto el culo,” I continued.

We both rushed to our feet as the coach stuck his head in through the door.

“Team meeting in 15,” he said and vanished.

The dream got lost in memory as the game plans fit themselves hastily in my mind.

“This is it boys. The moment we have all been waiting for. We can and we will do this. Todo lo mejor, mis hijos,” said our coach as we walked out of the dressing room and onto the field.

I was exhilarated as the whistle sounded. It wasn’t a dream after all.

The crowd was going berserk as the clock ticked on, and the ball jumped from one end to the other. All off a sudden, the whistle sounded as Thiago Silva went down clutching his ankle. We ran to form a huddle around, and to catch our breaths.

The dream came back to me and I noticed the similarities in the moment. I looked around, and there was absolute silence. The shouts vanished, and it felt as though I was alone. Not alone, there was someone with me- a boy in the stands. I turned, and looked, my eyes staring right into his, absorbing his entire stature. A wave of recognition passed through me as Neymar threw the ball at me, and I lost my footing in the wet grass. In the background, I noticed someone else dressed in yellow as well- white haired and smiling.

“Pedro, you alright darling? It’s time to get ready. We need leave for the final,” my wife said as I looked around, disoriented.

I ran a hand through my white locks as I pulled on a yellow Selecao jersey.

PS: This is not what I had entirely in mind. It’s a first trial at something like this, so please put in your comments at the bottom so I can do better at such stuff.

PPS: Personally, I didn’t like it as much as some of my older posts.