If every football player had a FIFA card, then wouldn't his body—belonging to a boy on the bench awaiting the second half—also classify as that of a soccer player?
If he could see and level up his stats, wouldn't he transform into the ultimate football king? Stars gleamed in his eyes.
Alex thought that there was no failure in his thinking, and nervously, but mostly, hopeful, turned his head to the space above.
"There really was!"
Cleiton, who was beside him was speechless. 'What a weird fellow.' he thought as he saw Alex behavior and shifted his seat a little farther away.
For Alex, the thoughts of an 11-year-old didn't matter when the path to wealth and success appeared seemingly within reach. All he had to do was extend his hand and discover the contents of the card above him.
When he had a clear look at his card, the smile on his face froze.
Of all the soccer field, he had never encountered a rusted steel card...
Of all the players before him, Alex had the worst FIFA card.
The rusted steel card before his eyes contained the picture of a scrawny kid on the right-side, most likely the body's appearance, accompanied by the Brazilian flag on the left. At the bottom were the six attributes:
PAC - 9
SHO - 8
PAS - 5
DRI - 6
DEF - 2
PHY - 6
The overall rating of this stinky card didn't even reach the double digits… with a bold 7 on the upper left corner.
Of all the players before him, he had never seen a FIFA card with a single digit rating.
"…"
Alex smile trembled, but he didn't gave up. He searched for a mission panel or a sign to level up his attributes, but none appeared.
Nothing.
Like that, the easy path to success was torn away from Alex.
Giving a man hope and then taking it away was far more cruel than having no hope from the start. The pain on his heart was really bigger than when he suffered the heart attack.
He sighed.
The option of putting in hard work and tracking progress through the FIFA card was available, but Alex didn't have much faith in it. In his previous life, as a passionate football fanatic, he had, of course, played soccer. He did as a child in the orphanage, during high school, college, and even in the company's recreational matches with colleagues. However, the result was the same.
He was inherently talentless.
He sighed, again. Well, he could also earn a living as a coach or by discovering raw talents... Alex could only comfort himself with this thought.
That aside, there was something good that came from his stinky card. Now he knew the name of his body...
Alex's eyes remained fixed on the name in the center of the card.
"Lucas"
Yes, Lucas da Silva, that was the name inside his FIFA card, the name of this body. Wait.. did someone just called him?
Alex turned his head a few seconds later, he was not accustomed to the name after all, and saw a middle-aged man with an unknown street food dish on his hand.
"Son, it's your turn, warm up and go to the field." The man smiled kindly at him. He was clearly unprofessional as a coach, but as this was just a neighborhood match, no one cared about it. It felt more like a community gathering, with the field acting as a play area for the children, rather than a formal match anyway.
He was unsure if he called him 'son' because he was the body's biological father, or simply out of friendliness. So Alex remained quiet and simply nodded.
After warming up alongside Cleiton in a muddle-headed way, he made his way towards the field. He didn't receive the original body's memories and had no clue about his position. Fortunately, his stinky card still showed him that he was a forward.
With such terrible stats, Alex believed that the only way he could be a forward was if the game wasn't taken seriously.
He braced his heart for when his 30-year old soul gets thrashed by brats when, suddenly, something flashed before his eyes, causing him to freeze in his tracks.
The instant Alex stepped onto the white line, an unopened steel pack drifted in front of him.
"What..."
Could this be the true the true power of his golden finger!?