Mason Kai had always felt like he was living in the shadows. At 15, he was used to the cramped apartment he shared with his mother in the heart of London.
The walls were thin, the space was small, and the air always carried the faint scent of dampness. But it was home—a place where his mother, Emiko, worked tirelessly to make ends meet.
She was a woman of quiet strength, her Japanese heritage reflected in her resilience and grace, even in the face of hardship.
Mason had never known his father, a man who had chosen football over family.
All he had were fragments of stories—how his father, a promising footballer, had left Emiko when she was pregnant, chasing his dreams on the pitch. Mason had grown up resenting the sport, associating it with abandonment and pain.
But one rainy afternoon, as Mason walked home from school, something caught his eye. A small electronics shop had its display tuned to a football match.
The screen glowed brightly, showing players darting across the field, their movements fluid and electric.
Mason paused, his feet rooted to the spot. He watched as a striker weaved through defenders, the ball seemingly glued to his feet, before unleashing a shot that soared into the top corner of the net.
The crowd erupted, and for the first time, Mason felt a spark of something he couldn't quite name.
He stood there, transfixed until the shopkeeper tapped on the window. "You're blocking the display, kid," the man said, though not unkindly.
Mason stepped back, muttering an apology, but his eyes remained glued to the screen. The match ended with a 2-1 victory, and the players celebrated with hugs and high-fives. Mason felt a strange pang of longing, a desire to be part of something so exhilarating.
When he finally got home, Emiko was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. She looked up and smiled. "You're late," she said, her voice gentle but firm.
"I was watching a football match," Mason admitted, bracing himself for her reaction.
Emiko paused, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed. "Your father loved football," she said softly. "It was his life."
Mason looked at her, surprised. She rarely spoke about his father. "Do you hate it?" he asked.
Emiko shook her head. "I don't hate the game. I hate what it took from us. But if it brings you joy, Mason, then I won't stand in your way."
Mason nodded, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity. "What was he like?" he asked hesitantly.
Emiko put down the knife and leaned against the counter. "He was passionate," she said. "And talented. But he was also selfish. He chose his dreams over us, and I'll never forgive him for that."
Mason didn't know what to say. He had always imagined his father as a villain, but hearing his mother's words made him realize that the man was more complicated than that.
The next day at school, Mason couldn't stop thinking about the match. During lunch, he sat with his best friend, Jake, who noticed his distracted state.
"You okay, mate?" Jake asked, biting into his sandwich.
"Yeah," Mason said, though his mind was elsewhere. "Do you ever watch football?"
Jake raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes. Why?"
"I saw a match yesterday," Mason said. "It was… amazing. I've never seen anything like it."
Jake grinned. "You've been living under a rock, then. Football's massive. You should come to the park with me after school. Some of the lads play there."
Mason hesitated. He had never been interested in sports before, but the memory of the match lingered in his mind. "Alright," he said finally. "I'll come."
After school, Mason followed Jake to the park, where a group of boys were already kicking a ball around. They greeted Jake with nods and smiles, but their expressions turned curious when they saw Mason.
"Who's this?" one of them asked, a tall boy with a scowl.
"This is Mason," Jake said. "He's new to football, so go easy on him."
The tall boy snorted. "We'll see about that."
The game began, and Mason quickly realized how out of his depth he was. He fumbled passes, missed tackles, and struggled to keep up with the pace. The other boys laughed and teased him, but Jake stuck by his side, offering encouragement.
"Don't worry about them," Jake said. "You'll get the hang of it."
Mason nodded, though his frustration was mounting. He hated feeling incompetent, especially in front of others. But as the game went on, he began to notice small improvements. His touches became more controlled, his movements more deliberate.
By the end of the session, Mason was exhausted but exhilarated. He had scored a goal—a lucky shot that had slipped past the goalkeeper—and the other boys had grudgingly acknowledged his effort.
"Not bad for a beginner," the tall boy said, clapping Mason on the back.
Mason smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment he hadn't felt in a long time.
As he walked home that evening, his legs aching and his clothes damp with sweat, Mason couldn't stop thinking about the game. He had always been an outsider, but for the first time, he felt like he belonged.
When he got home, Emiko was waiting for him. "You're late again," she said, though her tone was more amused than stern.
"I was playing football," Mason said, unable to hide his excitement.
Emiko smiled. "Did you have fun?"
Mason nodded. "Yeah. I think… I think I want to keep playing."
Emiko's smile widened. "Then you should. Just remember, Mason, football is just a game. Don't let it consume you like it did your father."
Mason nodded, though he wasn't sure he fully understood her warning. For now, all he cared about was the thrill of the game and the promise of something more.
As Mason lay in bed that night, his phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number: "You've got potential. Meet me at the park tomorrow after school. - Coach."
With that, Mason succumbed to sleep.
A/n: Hi, I'm HOD, an avid football fan. I read a few sports novels and decided to try my hands on one. My favorites on this app would be The goat system, God of Football, and Greatest of All Legends. Anyways support me through this journey and let's make Mason the GOAT.