I usually love the rain. The current overcast weather, however, is just adding to my anxiety. Uncle Ferran has put the AC on full, which is making me even more uncomfortable. My mother bought a silver 2007 Ford Focus for the entire family at my uncle's wedding. Uncle is now taking me to the Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper in that car. I would've preferred his scooter, but Mama said no because it was about to rain. It makes no sense because I will be spending the whole day outside anyway, but I didn't argue. Mama was, somehow, even more anxious than I am.
"Reietó, this is it. You are really good, I promise you. Just play your natural game, and they will see what the whole El Raval has come to know."
I just hummed in response, still staring out the passenger window. I know I'm good, but not as good as my uncle believes me to be. My strengths lie in my vision and my understanding of the entire game.
My weaknesses, on the other hand, are basically everything else. More specifically, my speed and strength are only slightly above average. Amongst my physical traits, only my stamina is a redeeming factor. I do not tire out even working twice as hard as my teammates. However, my technique is where I really have to hide in embarrassment. I am bad, like really bad, at dribbling. When it comes to shooting and longer passes, my accuracy is decent, but my power leaves much to be desired.
I might not be the technical player La Masia makes, but I hope they give me a chance. I will work really hard.
…
"Go on, Reietó. Believe in yourself. You are much better than you think you are." Uncle Ferran patted me on my back before pushing me towards the assistant. We had already signed up for the camp, and the woman at the booth had just marked my name.
The assistant smiled at me and started walking ahead. I quickly followed, trying to ignore the gravity in my stomach. I was mesmerized watching the large fields and buildings from behind the dense trees. We soon arrived at a hallway inside a one-story building.
The assistant checked in with a stout man sitting on a stool in the doorway. The stout man perused the list, nodded his head, and looked my way, "The field is through that door, son. You can mingle, make friends there. Camp will start soon, campeón."
I smiled at both of them and walked out.
…
Álex García had been a culé his whole life. He was part of La Masia himself, even playing three games for the main team. Some time after his playing career ended, Álex returned to his childhood club as the Head of Scouting. He loved this job because he understood and resonated with the FC Barcelona values and identity. He hoped to help his club by finding and nurturing talent who represent La Masia and Blaugrana just like the now-famous 1987 generation.
With a coffee in his hand and a spring in his step, Álex walked up into the stands and found a well-hidden seat near the top corner. The camp instructors were about to enter the field to begin warm-up. Álex was here early to take a look at the youngest of the crop participating this summer. He planned to progress up the age bracket throughout the day. As he sipped his black coffee, he spotted a peculiar boy from above the rim of his cup.