The day dawned crisp and clear over Moscow, the city bathed in the golden light of the summer morning. Inside the luxurious confines of the team hotel, Zachary Bemba stirred groggily in his bed.
It was already 10:00 AM, a late start for someone as disciplined as him, but the night before had been a rollercoaster of celebrations. Ivory Coast had clinched the World Cup, and Zachary had become the tournament's top scorer and best player, earning him the coveted Golden Boot and Golden Ball.
Despite the triumph, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. His body, conditioned to endure the rigors of professional football, still ached from the previous day's exertions.
His shin also throbbed painfully—a reminder of the knock he had taken in the final. The team medics had provided only some first aid, and now, every step was a sharp reminder of the grueling match he had endured with his teammates.
