06 - They Will Write a Song About You
Title: They Will Write a Song About You
Characters: Luis Suarez, Lucas Leiva, Sofia Balbi, Kenny Dalglish, Sammy Lee
Disclaimer: Nothing is real, unless stated by the notes.
2001
Montevideo, Uruguay
“Luis! Luis!” Ignacio called out over the thumping bass beat, a bottle of beer in his hand. “Favio said you’re leaving - you’re not leaving yet, are you? It’s barely 11!”
“I have things to do tomorrow, Ignacio…I can’t stay too long,” Luis replied. Already, he was seeing things double. He stood up to leave.
Suddenly, three other boys were surrounding him and cajoling him. “Ei, Luis, come on Luis. Stay a while! You haven’t even tasted this new drink Dante mixed himself. Come on Luis.”
Luis grinned and said, “Ah well, maybe it can wait for the next time…”
“Just until one, please?” Favio pleaded, his eyes shrinking at the edges, making them chinky. “We’ll make something up to tell your mother, we promise.”
Luis considered. This damn alcohol was messing with his brain, and he hadn’t drunk too much yet, just enough to make him tipsy but the blue beverage Dante handed him, it looked more tempting and inviting than staying at the place he now lived in, washing the dishes while his teammates squawked loudly in their rooms and wait wasn’t it Paolo’s turn to do the dishes but he would be excused because he had a special way of talking to the assistant manager and it would be Luis again, Luis all the time, so wasn’t that unfair…
He swayed drunkenly and beamed. “Alright, until one!”
The boys cheered.
Luis knew something was wrong when he woke up. Well, obviously, there was the beginning of a pounding headache coming on, but then when he cleared his mind, he was alone in the room. His roommate Oscar’s bed was neatly made up and cold. No players were in the house.
“Mierda,” he muttered and ran as fast as he could to the training grounds.
When he arrived there, everyone was dutifully doing passing exercises. Luis could see Oscar practicing with the assistant coach. He bit his lip and, not finding the coach, thought about sneaking in and taking the assistant’s place -
“Luis Suárez!”
He froze.
“Luis Suárez,” the voice said and he was forced to turn around. His Coach was staring him down. “Maldita sea, Suárez! What did you think you were doing?”
The other players kept their heads down and started doing headers. The new kids gaped though. Luis grimaced.
“Out at a friend’s party until the morning! Drinking alcohol! And it’s not even the first time!” The Coach glared. “At least this time you weren’t able to convince someone to come with you.”
Aha. Luis shot a death glare at Oscar. His roommate mouthed, Sorry.
“So Suárez, what are you gonna do about yourself?” the Coach asked.
He shrugged and replied as he did so many times before, “Train harder, Coach.”
To his surprise, the Coach shook his head. “That won’t be enough this time. You’re already thirteen, Luis.”
“Fourteen,” he corrected.
The Coach’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, fourteen. The point is, you’re not a kid anymore. You have to make decisions, important ones, life-shaping ones. You have to decide if you’re going to take this thing seriously or not. If you really want to be a professional footballer or not. If you do, you have to give this all this partying up. And I mean all of it. No drinking alcohol, no staying up late, no excuses.”
Luis just stood there.
“Luis, you are so talented - and you know it. Look at these kids.” The Coach stabbed a finger at his teammates. “You’re the most talented person in this bunch, and you’re wasting everything. You have potential. You can make it big professionally. Who knows, someday they might even write a song about you.” He laughed, but it sounded more like a bark.
Luis started to fidget. He was staying still longer than he was used to.
“Think about it. And tell me what you choose tomorrow.” As he walked away, the Coach called out, “Either you train like your teammates, or I will never pick you again!”
Fast forward 10 years into the future.
2011
Anfield, Liverpool
“Now this looks promising,” Kenny confided in Sammy Lee. “What do you think?”
“He’d pair up well with Torres, that’s what I think,” Sammy replied.
“He’d lift up his spirits as well, maybe,” Kenny joked as he tucked the scouting report in a folder. “He looks like a good lad. Besides, red and white suits him.”
“How about the other reports?”
Kenny was looking at his watch, distracted. “The next youth training will be starting in 5 minutes already. Let’s go Sammy come on! More time for the others later. Come on wee man, off we go!”
January 31, 2011
Liverpool, Merseyside
The day had left Luis dizzy. Tons of photos, videos, his medical, interviews, contract talks, FA clearances, meeting the staff and some important players…it was almost too much to handle. He massaged his sore jaws with the palm of his hands. He had definitely been smiling too much today.
“How was your day?” Sofia asked, exchanging a gurgling Delfina with a glass of mate.
“Dale,” he yawned. “Just a little tiring.”
Sofia gave him a kiss and laughed. “’Just a little tiring’, huh. Go get dressed, then.”
He frowned. “What? But I j - Okay, I'm really tired.”
The buzzer sounded and Sofia waltzed out of the way, smiling mysteriously.
Confused, Luis walked to the door and opened it. Dubiously, he greeted, “Hello.”
Outside stood a stranger. Blonde hair. A little shorter than him. Green eyes. Athletic build. The man beamed and put one hand out. Luis wondered if Sofia hired an English tutor or something already. Didn’t look like he was English though.
“Hi, my name is Lucas. Lucas Leiva,” he said in a bad accent with this big grin still plastered on his face.
Okay. Definitely not English.
“Luis Suárez.” They shook hands. Who was this man? How did you say ‘Who are you’ in English? At a loss, Luis looked behind him and yelled, “Sofia! ¿Quién es esto?”
“Eu falo Português assim que eu entendo um pouco de Espanhol,” the shorter man offered.
“¿Portugués?” Luis repeated.
“Sí!”
“Soy de Uruguay,” and for some reason, he smiled. Now this was more like it. “Please to come in,” he added in stilted English, and they laughed.
“I’m a fellow teammate from Liverpool. Would you agree to have dinner with me?” this Lucas said in Portuguese.
“¿Ahora mismo?”
“Sí.”
Luis thought about it. Behind Lucas, Sofia was making shoo hand movements and mouthing You should go with him.
“Dale,” Luis grinned.
“I’ll introduce you to the city. I know a place where you can stay,” Lucas proposed.
“Will you teach me English, too?” Luis kidded.
“No,” Lucas said, switching abruptly to English. And then he spouted a lot of English nonsense that left Luis blinking in his wake. When he saw this, Lucas laughed so hard he got a stitch in his side. “What I said was,” he amended in Portuguese, “I’m not the best person to ask. I’ll help you look for a translator in Melwood, though.”
“Melwood? ¿Lo que se Melwood?”
“The training ground.”
They rode the elevator in companionable silence. As they went out of the hotel into the cool night air, Lucas suddenly threw his arms around Luis in a tight embrace. “Bem-vindo ao Liverpool, Luis!” Pure warmth and simple happiness radiated from him.
Gradually, he hugged this Portuguese boy-man back. “Gracias, amigo. Gracias.”
February 4, 2011
Anfield, Liverpool
His name is Suárez, he wears the famous red
I just can’t get enough, I just can’t get enough
When he scores a volley, or when he scores a head
I just can’t get enough, I just can’t get enough
He scores a goal and the Kop erupts
and I just can’t seem to get enough Suárez!
Individual faces in the crowd were hard to make out but even with the heavy Scouse accents, the lyrics were unmistakable.
Du du du du du du, du du du du du du
Du du du du du du Luis Suárez!
Du du du du du du, du du du du du du
Du du du du du du Luis Suárez!
He felt like he didn’t deserve it, but somehow he also did. The feeling in his chest was swelling into something really -
“Luis, did you ready the tira de asado yet?”
Kitchen cabinets slammed. Footsteps pounded. “Luis? Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re watching that video again!”
Sofia entered the room, flustered and pink-faced. Luis hid his phone behind his back and looked guiltily at the floor. Exasperated, Sofia sighed, “Luis, you’ve been replaying that for an hour already.” Then Luis heard something like, “I knew I shouldn’t’ve taken a video of it.”
“What did you say?”
She smiled distractedly at him. “Nothing. Come on, let’s ready the meat already. Don’t you want asado for lunch?”
“Alright, alright,” he groaned, getting out of bed. When she had her back turned, though, he jumped on her and gave her lots of kisses on the cheek. She laughed and hit his head with ladle she’d brought from the kitchen.
“Stop it, you flirt. Or else we’ll never cook the lunch on time.”
“What if I don’t want to eat it on time?” he hinted, giving her another kiss.
“I said stop it,” Sofia said, but she was laughing.
“Fine,” he said, but before he left the room, he pressed the play button one last time.
His name is Suárez, he wears the -
“LUIS!”
Translations:
Mierda - Shit
Maldita sea - Dammit
Dale - Okay
¿Quién es esto? - Who is this?
Eu falo Português assim que eu entendo um pouco de Espanhol. - I’m Portuguese so I can understand a little Spanish.
Soy de Uruguay. - I’m from Uruguay.
¿Ahora mismo? - Right now?
¿Lo que se Melwood? - What’s Melwood?
Bem-vindo ao Liverpool! - Welcome to Liverpool!
Notes:
· Lucas Leiva did invite Luis to dinner the day he signed his contract.
· Luis’ youth coach did give him the ultimatum: “Either you train like your teammates, or I will never pick you again.”
· More general info and stats on Luis.
· And because I’m such a stalker, Melwood’s address is real. I have no idea if Kenny’s office is really there though.
This is very rough and unedited. Feel free to comment on any corrections/grammatical mistakes I've made!