‘I told you it would end like this’
‘No, you really didn’t, you said many times I wouldn’t make it, but I did’
‘Well you didn’t really. You’ve made 4 appearances for Esotril reserves, I would hardly say that’s making it’
‘I’ve had 15 years in a profession I love, and I’ve…’ Miguel was cut off
‘You’ve done nothing. You lost in the playoff final with Olerios and won the regional championship whilst you were still in school man! Sorry to say this, but you’re going to struggle to get a proper job you know’ the older of the men said to Miguel
‘A proper job? What do you mean?’ Miguel replied to his comment.
‘Well your playing days are as good as over’.
Miguel Sanchez didn’t respond. He wasn’t so sure his playing days were over, he was hopeful of getting back on a football pitch, but he was a long way off even walking never mind running. His recovery and then rehab would be the main focus for him. Whilst Estoril had contracted him on a pay as you play deal, they have been gracious enough to pay him a basic wage whilst he is out injured, and have assured him their full cooperation during his recovery phase.
Later that night, he was alone in the hospital bed. His leg propped up on those stilt things, the TV was on but he wasn’t paying much attention. But the little voice inside his head was talking to him again, was it the meds? He’s taken so much tramadol and naproxen these last few days he genuinely doesn’t know if he has overdosed, there it was again that voice, ‘what if you never play another game again?’ ‘I’m going to, mark my words’ ‘You might not you know’ ‘Yes I know that, stop repeating yourself’ ‘You’ll struggle to get a game at Estoril, you need to think about something else’ ‘Listen if I wanted to get nagged at, I’d buy a clock work wife, shut up will you’ ‘No woman would want a failed semi pro footballer’ ‘Listen here you…’ ‘You need a contingency plan, something to fall back on’ ‘Like what? Become a motivational speaker, what not to do as a professional footballer?’ ‘Just think about it’. Eventually he fell asleep and slept a good 8 hours.
The next few days were nothing short of boring. Sat in hospital, getting the occasional nurse coming and asking if everything is alright, of course it’s not alright I’m sat here watching the faint hope of my career pass me by, oh thanks for the coffee. Finally there was something to be happy about, during all the pain and worrying, he’d completely forgot that there was the Sporting Lisbon game showing on the telly. They were playing at home to Braga in the Liga Nos.
Nothing seemed to pass time better, in hospital or not, for Miguel than watching the team he loves the most play. After a fairly even first half, where Sporting’s best chances both came from set pieces. The first being from a corner, the ball came in and Bas Dost headed low towards goal but the Braga keeper saved it at the last moment. The second was a free kick around 35 yards out. Bruno Fernandes hit it up over the wall but the keeper was there to deny Sporting again.
The breakthrough for Sporting came in the second half. After 65 minutes Fernandes found himself on the right wing, swung a great cross in and Bas Dost was there to bury in a sweet volley from inside the penalty area. As the ball went in Miguel jumped up, completely forgetting the predicament he was in and the pain was ruthless. AARRRGGGGHHHH he screamed as his leg was propped up on the bed and the restraints being brought down on his injuries.
The nurse came rushing in with a look of panic on her face ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ ‘Nothing, just argh, let me just’ the nurse cut him off ‘Here let me help’ as she turned towards the screen, as well as noticing the green and white scarf across the end of the hospital bed, she then put 2 and 2 together ‘Please me be more, erm, relaxed, whilst watching the game’ ‘I’ll try’ he said with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Around 20 minutes the later the same nurse was outside Miguels room when she heard a voice screaming obscenities, she just shook her head and carried on walking. By the time she finished her round of the ward and got back to her desk, her colleague was also watching the game. ‘What’s the score Frank?’ she asked Francisco, a medical student on a work placement, who is attending the Lisbon school of medicine, who in turn replied ‘Those green and white bastards have just got a penalty, it’s 2-1 to Braga, come on goalie save this penalty’. Again the nurse just shook her and went towards the mess room, which was to the left of the nurses desk and to the right of the room where Miguel was staying.
As she poured the hot water from the kettle into her cup, at the same time she heard from the down the hall a loud YES COME ON and just behind her, a just as loud OH FOR GODS SAKE YOU TWATS. She didn’t need to ask but Sporting Lisbon had just scored a penalty in the final minute of the game to salvage a draw. She decided to go check up on Miguel, as she walked in he was on the phone speaking to someone
‘To be fair they were lucky today, they’ll need to pick it up they want to win the league’ there was a bit of a pause before he continued ‘How exactly? I’m stuck in the god forsaken fuc…..’ as he was about to swear about the hospital he noticed the nurse stood in the doorway ‘Erm, I’ll call you back’ he hung up
‘How was the game?’ The Nurse asked sheepishly
‘So so, the boys snatched a draw at the end, can’t moan really’
‘I take it you didn’t reinjure that leg of yours when they scored the penalty at the end? She said with a smirk on her face
‘Haha, no, I learned my lesson with the first goal’
She then checked his chart and gave him his final dose of medicine for the day. As she did Miguel noticed her name tag ‘I have a niece called Leonor, we all call her Leo, but she hates it’
‘Haha yes I used to get Leo too, it never bothered me though, how old is she?
‘Just turned 6, she was actually at the game when I got injured, the first time she’d ever seen uncle Migi play football’
‘Oh no that’s really sad’
‘Ahh it is what it is’
‘Well that’s it for medicine for you today, I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t go anywhere’ she said with a laugh
Miguel took the joke light heartedly in the way it was intended and just pointed to the straps on his leg ‘I’m going nowhere any time soon’ he replied with a smile
‘See you tomorrow, Migi’
‘No, you really didn’t, you said many times I wouldn’t make it, but I did’
‘Well you didn’t really. You’ve made 4 appearances for Esotril reserves, I would hardly say that’s making it’
‘I’ve had 15 years in a profession I love, and I’ve…’ Miguel was cut off
‘You’ve done nothing. You lost in the playoff final with Olerios and won the regional championship whilst you were still in school man! Sorry to say this, but you’re going to struggle to get a proper job you know’ the older of the men said to Miguel
‘A proper job? What do you mean?’ Miguel replied to his comment.
‘Well your playing days are as good as over’.
Miguel Sanchez didn’t respond. He wasn’t so sure his playing days were over, he was hopeful of getting back on a football pitch, but he was a long way off even walking never mind running. His recovery and then rehab would be the main focus for him. Whilst Estoril had contracted him on a pay as you play deal, they have been gracious enough to pay him a basic wage whilst he is out injured, and have assured him their full cooperation during his recovery phase.
Later that night, he was alone in the hospital bed. His leg propped up on those stilt things, the TV was on but he wasn’t paying much attention. But the little voice inside his head was talking to him again, was it the meds? He’s taken so much tramadol and naproxen these last few days he genuinely doesn’t know if he has overdosed, there it was again that voice, ‘what if you never play another game again?’ ‘I’m going to, mark my words’ ‘You might not you know’ ‘Yes I know that, stop repeating yourself’ ‘You’ll struggle to get a game at Estoril, you need to think about something else’ ‘Listen if I wanted to get nagged at, I’d buy a clock work wife, shut up will you’ ‘No woman would want a failed semi pro footballer’ ‘Listen here you…’ ‘You need a contingency plan, something to fall back on’ ‘Like what? Become a motivational speaker, what not to do as a professional footballer?’ ‘Just think about it’. Eventually he fell asleep and slept a good 8 hours.
The next few days were nothing short of boring. Sat in hospital, getting the occasional nurse coming and asking if everything is alright, of course it’s not alright I’m sat here watching the faint hope of my career pass me by, oh thanks for the coffee. Finally there was something to be happy about, during all the pain and worrying, he’d completely forgot that there was the Sporting Lisbon game showing on the telly. They were playing at home to Braga in the Liga Nos.
Nothing seemed to pass time better, in hospital or not, for Miguel than watching the team he loves the most play. After a fairly even first half, where Sporting’s best chances both came from set pieces. The first being from a corner, the ball came in and Bas Dost headed low towards goal but the Braga keeper saved it at the last moment. The second was a free kick around 35 yards out. Bruno Fernandes hit it up over the wall but the keeper was there to deny Sporting again.
The breakthrough for Sporting came in the second half. After 65 minutes Fernandes found himself on the right wing, swung a great cross in and Bas Dost was there to bury in a sweet volley from inside the penalty area. As the ball went in Miguel jumped up, completely forgetting the predicament he was in and the pain was ruthless. AARRRGGGGHHHH he screamed as his leg was propped up on the bed and the restraints being brought down on his injuries.
The nurse came rushing in with a look of panic on her face ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ ‘Nothing, just argh, let me just’ the nurse cut him off ‘Here let me help’ as she turned towards the screen, as well as noticing the green and white scarf across the end of the hospital bed, she then put 2 and 2 together ‘Please me be more, erm, relaxed, whilst watching the game’ ‘I’ll try’ he said with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Around 20 minutes the later the same nurse was outside Miguels room when she heard a voice screaming obscenities, she just shook her head and carried on walking. By the time she finished her round of the ward and got back to her desk, her colleague was also watching the game. ‘What’s the score Frank?’ she asked Francisco, a medical student on a work placement, who is attending the Lisbon school of medicine, who in turn replied ‘Those green and white bastards have just got a penalty, it’s 2-1 to Braga, come on goalie save this penalty’. Again the nurse just shook her and went towards the mess room, which was to the left of the nurses desk and to the right of the room where Miguel was staying.
As she poured the hot water from the kettle into her cup, at the same time she heard from the down the hall a loud YES COME ON and just behind her, a just as loud OH FOR GODS SAKE YOU TWATS. She didn’t need to ask but Sporting Lisbon had just scored a penalty in the final minute of the game to salvage a draw. She decided to go check up on Miguel, as she walked in he was on the phone speaking to someone
‘To be fair they were lucky today, they’ll need to pick it up they want to win the league’ there was a bit of a pause before he continued ‘How exactly? I’m stuck in the god forsaken fuc…..’ as he was about to swear about the hospital he noticed the nurse stood in the doorway ‘Erm, I’ll call you back’ he hung up
‘How was the game?’ The Nurse asked sheepishly
‘So so, the boys snatched a draw at the end, can’t moan really’
‘I take it you didn’t reinjure that leg of yours when they scored the penalty at the end? She said with a smirk on her face
‘Haha, no, I learned my lesson with the first goal’
She then checked his chart and gave him his final dose of medicine for the day. As she did Miguel noticed her name tag ‘I have a niece called Leonor, we all call her Leo, but she hates it’
‘Haha yes I used to get Leo too, it never bothered me though, how old is she?
‘Just turned 6, she was actually at the game when I got injured, the first time she’d ever seen uncle Migi play football’
‘Oh no that’s really sad’
‘Ahh it is what it is’
‘Well that’s it for medicine for you today, I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t go anywhere’ she said with a laugh
Miguel took the joke light heartedly in the way it was intended and just pointed to the straps on his leg ‘I’m going nowhere any time soon’ he replied with a smile
‘See you tomorrow, Migi’
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