The living room was buzzing with the sound of football fans screaming from the TV, a young boy who sat on the floor with his legs crossed, eyes glued to the screen as a football match was played out. The players moved like they were using mojo, their feet controlling them with such skill and rhythm, it's like watching musicians create a wonderful melody. Through the TV speaker, the crowd were cheering and screaming at the top of their voice with pure energy.
Behind him, his father sat on the couch brimming with excitement and anticipation, clapping and shouting as if he was right there, inside the stadium. But marco? He didn't make a sound. He was completely focused on the ball, the players, and the endless possibilities that came with every kick. It wasn't just a game, this wasn't just any game-it was the final of the champions cup. The two best teams going head-to-head, they were locked in a battle, each play felt like a new chapter. Marco was completely drawn into the moment, carried away by the intensity and energy.
Then it happened, the star player for Fake madrid-number 7, a name destined for greatness- took control of the ball just outside the penalty box. Marco froze, he held his breath as the player waived two defenders with a razor sharp precision and grace, every moment was as calculated as a lion ready to strike his prey. Marco didn't look away, he didn't blink once . And then came a powerful shot. The ball took off, the net bulged, and the stadium exploded with loud, and joyful cheers.
"Did you see that!'' his dad shouted, punching the air and shouting GET INN. Marco nodded, his heart pounding. He hadn't just seen that moment-he had felt it deep inside. The skill, the victory, the excitement, and something deeper: inspiration. For a second, it felt like the player's victory and the iconic celebration made by the player was his own. It wasn't admiration; it was the birth and start of his dream.
That dream started to grow inside him, wild, untamed and full of energy. He could see himself on the pitch, wearing a jersey with his name writt
en at the back "MARCO''. He imagined the crowd screaming his name as he scored a winning goal or trying to do his celebration with him. It wasn't just a wish-it felt like destiny was calling.
When the match ended, Marco remained seated, fixated on the TV screen after the players left. His dad patted his back with a laugh. "That was incredible, wasn't it"
Marco turned to his dad, his eyes full of determination and excitement. 'Dad," he said quietly, " can I play football and get a ball? I want to play like that"
His dad raised his eyebrows in surprise, then he smiled. "You want to play football? Well, you'll need more than just a ball-but we can start there."
Marco was filled with hope. Holding on to his new dream, he felt like anything was possible.
Later that evening, his father gave him a ball, and he was overjoyed. He quickly went to the backyard to play