From Arsenal to the Ball God

”Bang...! Snap.....!”

Outside the field, the French celebrated with abandon, while inside the locker room, the Spaniards sat in dead silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of walls being pounded and shin guards being thrown.

After the initial silence, many covered their faces with their hands and began to sob softly, their chests heaving.

Some hugged their knees, biting at the flesh of their thighs and knees, as if hoping the pain could alleviate their sorrow.

”Second place is the biggest loser,” many have said before.

For the players of Spain, they had to endure the bitter taste of this profound defeat and the disappointment of missing the rare chance to achieve a triple crown and become a super golden generation.

Everything was over; they were so close, yet they missed a championship trophy that would rank in the top three in the world of soccer!

An indescribable burning sensation spread through the players of Spain, rising from their necks, turning their faces red, then coursing through their entire bodies.

Most of them were restless, scratching their heads and smashing things. Even those who were sitting still were mostly gritting their teeth and breathing heavily.

There was air conditioning in the locker room.....This was most likely an adverse reaction caused by extreme sadness.

”Snap.....!”

Among them, Fabregas’s emotions were particularly intense. After throwing his shin guards, he tossed those of Iniesta and others beside him onto the ground.

He seemed completely deranged, and it was nearly impossible for others to calm him or restrain him, so eventually, they let him have his way.

”Snap... snap....!”

Fabregas knocked all the water bottles and the tactical board off the table, sweeping them away in a frenzy. If the table hadn’t been fixed to the ground, he might have flipped it over.

He told himself to let it all out, to counteract the pain through the relief violence could bring!

Hit!

Smash!

Vent!

”Bang!!” Fabregas punched the glass door of the bathroom forcefully. Following a ’crash’, the entire glass shattered into pieces and landed with a harsh crackling sound.

He sat down heavily on the ground, blood dripping slowly from the knuckles of his right hand, yet it didn’t hurt much.

”Haha.....!” he suddenly burst into wild laughter, and as he laughed, he lowered his head into silence, tears streaming forth, ”Ah.....!”

Over a year had passed, and time had indeed dulled much of the hatred he felt for Ma’el.....partly due to the other’s ever-improving performance and influence.

During the latter half of his time at Barça, Fabregas could clearly feel that Ma’el had slowly moved out of his league.

This left him feeling powerless and subtly began to make him attempt to let go of the past, avoiding plunging himself into distress.

People sometimes do consciously avoid such risks to spare themselves from doing something foolish.

What reignited his desire for revenge was the recent news of Barça’s interest in Ma’el, along with the public invitation from the club’s core Messi on social media, and the invitation from his most respected coach Guardiola while at Bayern Munich.

These not only completely took away his dignity but also stirred up the most fragile, self-disparaging, and deeply regrettable things in his heart!

”Ah.....!” his broken sobs grew louder, gradually disturbing the tranquility of the entire locker room.

Team captain Casillas, unable to just sit by, came over to comfort him, patting his shoulder, ”It’s just a game, just a cup, we’ve lost already, there’s no need for this, you have to stay calm now.”

”How can I be calm?”

Fabregas found an outlet, looking up at Casillas, ”Everyone looks down on me, even my teammates treat me like a rat crossing the street, how can I be calm?!”

Iniesta, Busquets, and other Barça players immediately lowered their heads, pursing their lips helplessly; this broadside was undoubtedly mainly directed at them.

”Who treats you like a rat crossing the street?”

Javi, with stronger verbal skills and a slightly bigger temper, came over beside him, ”Are you talking about us, about Barcelona? Is that it? You definitely mean us, right?”

He felt a mix of disappointment and regret, speaking with a heart full of coldness, ”Think about how you joined the team last year, everyone endured public pressure to help you, got insulted just for collaborating with you.

”Just because we lost to your nemesis in the European Cup, just because you were unhappy at the club, are you going to pull us down with you?

”You’ve only been at Barça for a year, can’t you hold on a bit longer?!”

The argument shifted away from this final, away from the European Cup, and turned to the club and even their interpersonal relations.

”How should I hold on?”

Fabregas stood up and walked over to Javi’s side, ”How much did I give up to join the team? I had a fallout with Wenger, clashed with Ma’el, and took a transfer fee of several million Euros!

”How did others speak of me? How did I endure it? Have I ever received the respect I deserve, even once?!

”You all knew I had conflicts with Ma’el, and all acknowledged that I already stood at the storm center, yet publicly made me a scapegoat! Is this your intended show of sincerity towards Ma’el?

”What kind of allure does he possess? What kind of temptation does he offer? To make all of you lose your minds!”

Fabregas’s chest heaved violently, his eyes were constantly red as he bit his lip after saying all that.