The letter from home came with a faded stamp
Inside was a photo
Cristiano as a kid barefoot standing on a rocky hill with a ball made of socks
On the back his mother had written five words
Remember where you came from
He folded it and tucked it in his Bible
He always carried both
The dorm had changed
Since Marco showed up everything felt colder
Boys took sides without saying it out loud
Some respected Cristiano
Some waited for him to fall
But Cristiano had no time for politics
Only the field
One morning Coach Silva posted a notice
A scout from Sporting's senior team would be visiting
Watching one of them
One chance
One pick
Cristiano read it
Then walked away
Marco ripped the paper off the wall
Laughed
Guess it's time we separate the real from the hype
Cristiano spent the next three nights alone on the practice pitch
Rain or not
His footwork drills looked like dancing
Until his toes bled
He taped them and kept going
He didn't train to impress
He trained to silence something inside
On the day of the scout visit
Coach split the squad in two
Cristiano and Marco on opposite teams again
Of course
From the whistle it was war
Marco scored first
But this time no celebration
Just a look straight at Cristiano
Cristiano nodded
Understood
Next play
Ball at his feet
He dribbled three players
Marco included
And chipped it in
Even the scout blinked twice
The match kept swinging
One goal
One answer
Another goal
Another answer
They both played like their lives were on the line
Because they were
After the match
The scout pulled Coach Silva aside
Whispered something
Then looked at Cristiano
Nodded once
Left
Marco didn't speak
Just walked past him and bumped his shoulder
Cristiano didn't move
But later in the locker room
Cristiano found another note
Same handwriting
No name
Island blood runs deep
But don't drown in your pride
He crumpled the note
This time he didn't keep it
He didn't need reminders
The fire was already lit