The sun was just rising over Aven when the children gathered once again on the school field. They were running around, playing football, joking with each other. As usual, John was already there, holding his notebook in one hand and a branded ball he had brought from the capital in the other.
"Today we're going to learn how to come out of the goal at the right time," said John, standing at the center of the goalpost. The children began to gather around him."Follow me," he added.
John demonstrated how to read the game, presenting various situations.
"And now, let's start with the practical training. Sam, you're first," he said.
"I'll come at you with the ball, and you need to quickly decide which direction to go, okay?"
"Okay," said Sam.
John began dribbling the ball toward the goal. Sam came out at the right time and caught the ball. John winked and smiled at Sam.
"Next up is you, Leon. Get in goal," he said.
John picked up the ball again and started moving toward the goal with it. Suddenly, his foot slipped, and unable to maintain control, he fell and injured his shoulder.
The children were confused and panicked. The football team had a nurse who quickly noticed John and rushed to help him. The other kids also ran to assist.
"Wait a minute—ahh, my shoulder..."
"Take him to the infirmary now!" Sofia ordered.
John was brought to the infirmary. His shoulder pain was rapidly intensifying. As they arrived, Lian came running.
"What happened?"
"Please wait outside."
Thirty minutes later, the nurse came out and said:
"He must be transferred to the capital immediately. John has been diagnosed with a fracture in the upper shoulder area, which requires urgent surgery. The recovery could take several months. You may go in and see him now."
Lian entered. John was lying down, his left shoulder wrapped tightly. His eyes still smiled, but the smile was incomplete.
"What are you doing, hero?" Lian said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Probably trying to remember how not to slip," John replied weakly.
Lian sat next to him.
"They're taking you to the capital."
"I know."
"You won't be able to play for a few months."
"But I can still write, right?"
Silence fell between them. In that silence, there was not just pain, but something else—strength being born.
"I won't let the program stop," Lian said. "The kids will keep coming. We'll keep writing, drawing, telling stories. You're just our hero off the field for now."
John smiled. That smile was different now—quiet, mature.
Two days later, after a heartfelt farewell, John was transferred to the capital—to one of the city hospitals known for treating sports injuries. The capital felt unbelievable to him. Tall buildings, constant noise, people rushing everywhere. In Aven, everything was slow. Here—fast.
John lay in his hospital room, his only companions the trees visible through the window and his notebook. On the first day, he wrote:
"I'm away from the field now. But that doesn't mean I'm out of the game. When you think about the game, you're still a part of it. And when you write, you're playing with words. And I'll keep doing just that."
Treatment began. The doctors explained in detail that after the surgery, John would have a long recovery—physiotherapy, muscle strengthening, pain management.
One evening, the hospital room door opened. A tall boy—around 17 years old—entered, wearing a sports jersey.
"Are you John, the goalkeeper?"
"I am."
"My name is Bran. I'm here for the same reason—a shoulder fracture. One day, during the capital championship, I misjudged the moment... and now both of us are here."
They introduced themselves. Bran was from the city—humorous, yet deep. He showed John his story—a collection of writings and sketches he had made in the hospital. They were very similar to John's notes.
"You know," Bran said, "when we can't play, we can tell the story of the game. That way, the game doesn't die."
"What if we start a writing project together?" John asked. "A joint voice from the capital and the village."
Bran grinned. That day, they created the project "Both Sides of the Goal." Two boys—one from the village, one from the city—with two injured shoulders, united by one purpose. They began interviewing other injured children who used to play sports—football, basketball, even martial arts.
Every story carried pain, but also a shining element—hope that everything was just beginning.
Meanwhile, Lian was not alone in Aven. Sam, Leon, Sofia—they all kept learning, playing, writing. "Words from the Goal" continued to grow. And when Lian started reading John's letters from the capital, the children fell silent, eyes wide open, listening. John had become their source of inspiration—even from afar.
One day, Sam read aloud:
"When we fall, we don't weaken—we change. And if that change can help someone else, then we've already won."
The children started a new section dedicated to John. They called it, "We Stand for John."
The surgery was successful. John slowly returned to his room. The pain was there, but in his eyes burned a new spark—determination.
Bran was there, holding a book.
"Do you know we already have more than 30 stories?"
"What if we turn this into a book," John suggested, "'Saved Moments.' All those moments when everything seemed lost, but something pushed us to keep going."
"That's why I'm here," Bran smiled.
Two months later, John returned to Aven. He wasn't yet allowed to play fully, but he could already walk on his own, carrying a new notebook and a box filled with letters, drawings, and memories from the capital.
When he returned to the school field, everyone welcomed him silently, but with smiles. Then Sam shouted:
"John and his stories are back!"
That day, John didn't step into the goal. He sat gently by the goalpost and watched the children play. Lian approached him.
"How are you?"
"More than good. And now I want to start something new."
"As always."
"I want to create a Goalkeeper's Academy—not just for the game. But to stand beyond the field—to listen, to write, to overcome."