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Football and My Life
An Unrequited Love
I had just turned six years when I first touched a football.
It was one of those scorching summer afternoons that burn up your skin. But I did not bother. That ball meant everything.
At the very beginning, football was unadulterated bliss. No expectations, no far-reaching goals, no notions of glory.
Just run, laugh, and score between two backpacks.
I played everywhere: in courtyards, parking lots, even inside the house — risking my mom’s wrath. My brother and I broke more vases than I can count.
Football knew no bounds. It didn’t need adult-imposed rules or fancy setups. Just a ball, and life would burst into action.
From Backyard Kicks to Spal: The First Step Toward a Dream
Two years later, things turned serious: I was wearing the jersey of Spal’s youth academy, a professional Serie C team in Italy (third division).
At my age, that is almost a dream come true; each training session is a venture-a possibility of learning and growing and reaching my full potential.
The pressure soon followed: teammates dying to prove a point, coaches with rising expectations, and those murmurs from the sidelines that made you…
