The road to godhood starting from Ligue 1

Chapter 255 Gaio's Handwritten Letter; Next Stop

Gao listened to the children playing outside the window and the whispers of his family members outside the bedroom.

His fingers moved more and more nimbly across the keyboard.

I want to tell you my story.

You may hear or read stories about me from various places; some are true, some are partially true, and some are completely fabricated.

So I want to tell you my story personally, unrelated to talent or competitions, just an 18-year-old adult looking back on the past.

When I was four years old, I saw for the first time a black and white "soccer ball" made of plastic and leather sewn together—let's call it a soccer ball for now, although it was actually just an irregular sphere that looked like a soccer ball.

My first impression of football was very profound. It's not just a memory, because memories are often vague, but this one is different. It's warm, vivid, like a dream.

My brother René told me how to play the game—get through everyone, kick the ball into the goal, it's that simple.

Yes, it's a very simple rule, so simple that even I, at four years old, could understand it.

When I kicked the football for the first time, I could feel a kind of vitality from that irregular black and white ball, and from that day on, my story with football began.

In Niaoquan Town, football is the most popular of the few group activities available to children, followed by picking up trash.

The City Wall Stadium—a gravel field transformed from a landfill in Niaoquan Town—is packed with people every day. Some are playing football, some are watching, and everyone is commenting on each player. "Oh, he's really good." That's the feedback I get.

My life was changed because of this ball.

The story then became mundane—going to school, playing football, then joining the semi-professional Saint-Denis team "Saint-Denis Hope" for formal training, and finally being selected as a player for Clairefontaine.

However, during this mediocre journey, I changed.

From a child filled with a pure love for football, he became a flammable and explosive danger.

I will hit people just because they say I played badly; I will swear just because they didn't pass me the ball; I will also feel anxious, especially when I don't score, don't dribble past anyone, or don't win the game.

I am like an infant who has not grown up, needing unconditional fulfillment from the outside world to stop crying.

I call this kind of "giant baby".

But it seems that God has been very kind to me. Football is like a part of my feet. I can easily make it move according to my thoughts. So I went from Clairefontaine to Lille, and then from Lille to Chelsea, a club that many people dream of.

I was also promoted to Chelsea's first team when I was 16. Although I didn't play, this story seemed to be telling the world, "Hey, listen, I have a story of early fame. Do you want to hear it?"

But the world chose to refuse.
Do not listen.

Chelsea marked the beginning of my downfall.

I had a disagreement with Captain Terry. I felt he was like that old-fashioned middle-aged man, always lecturing me and telling me what I should do. We almost got into a fight. Of course, if it weren't for Drogba's intervention, I would most likely have been the one who got a beating.

Because of this conflict, some media outlets have said that Drogba told me, "Hey, it's a good thing you're not married, otherwise you and Terry would have had a hat trick."

I want to say that this is not true; it is a complete fabrication.

After leaving Chelsea, I returned to France, but by then I had no more love for football. I felt like a loser, a complete and utter loser. Football had abandoned me.

I started neglecting training and spending more time partying with my friends. We would discuss which girl had the most beautiful curves in her hips, which girl was more likely to spend the night with us, and we would even discuss whether to try "lemons," you know, which is something that can ruin a football player's career.

When training couldn't keep up, my body gradually couldn't withstand high-intensity competitions, and I got injured—my adductor muscles.

I hate football more and more.

Until my 17th birthday, someone said to me, "Hey, let's go do something exciting."

We robbed a perfume store.

That day.

It was the lowest point in my life, but looking back now, I feel it was the beginning of my new life. It all stemmed from a hazy dream I had every night in prison—

When Gaio wrote this.

Stop suddenly.

How should I continue writing? If the preceding part was a summary of "Gaio," then what about the following part?

perhaps,

This is what my life should be like.

After careful consideration, he omitted all the past scenes, simplifying and leaving everything blank.

That seemed to be my life, and it also seemed to be someone else's life.

In my dream, I had absolutely no talent for playing football. The ball always slipped away from my feet like a living thing, but I still chased after it tirelessly.

Even without scoring a single goal or making a single attack, as long as I'm on the field, I feel my blood boiling, and I always look forward to the next game.

My love for football in my dream was incredibly profound.

If you can keep running, that would be a good ending too.

But, in a cold, windy field game, when I saw an opportunity, stretched out my foot, and I seemed to hear a "click".

It wasn't a sound from a dream; it was real sound of things shattering.

The doctor's words were brief: "The ligament is torn; you can't kick anymore."

The white plaster wrapped around his feet also took something away—perhaps the dream of running despite lacking talent.

As I leaned against the wire fence at the edge of the court.

The figures running inside were only a few meters away from me, yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. The football rolled across the grass in front of me, and the words I was holding back, when I finally shouted them out, sounded different, becoming cheers for others.

In my dreams, I never had the chance to experience professional competition. God didn't favor that "me," and didn't even want me to continue running.

The sidelines of the court were blindingly white.

Like a scalpel, it cut me and my football dream apart, leaving me on one side as my still-running shadow and on the other as me standing outside the barbed wire fence.

The whole world is just across a net.

During my month at Fleury Merogis Juvenile Correctional Facility, I had this dream, and I couldn't tell if it was reality or illusion.

But when I woke up again...

What I saw was my parents calling my name with tears streaming down their faces.

Yes, I am still Gaio, I am still the Gaio who could have made something, but stopped abruptly.

The day I walked out of the juvenile prison, looking at the sky, I felt not freedom, but regret—regret for my past self, for recklessly squandering my talent.

So, I decided to make a change.

It's hard to change someone who hasn't exercised seriously for three or four years, but every time I think of that dream in prison, I understand that it was because I was afraid.

Fortunately, I am still young.

I slowly rediscovered the talent I had lost.

When I played a good game for the Bastia youth team, Mr. Chatham, the sporting director of Bastia, immediately approached me and said, "Hey kid, go to the first team, that's your stage."

And so, I made my first appearance in a professional match – the French Cup.

I still remember what happened; my goal helped the team beat Valenciennes, a Ligue 2 team, against a Ligue 1 team.

As you all know, we won the French Cup and the Ligue 2 title, and returned to Ligue 1.

The moment I lifted the championship trophy, I felt like I was in a dream.

I really did win the championship. A lot happened during that Ligue 2 season: I became the team captain, my name was chanted at the Stadio de la Cerro ...

At that moment, I heard the sound of my dream coming true.

I think any French child who plays football longs to wear that blue jersey, go to the European Championship, go to the World Cup, and bring back championship trophies for France, just like Zidane, Blanc, and Deschamps.

I had that opportunity.

But we fell in the semifinals; we failed.

That night, Zidane told me that I was still young and that I would definitely be able to bring the championship back to France in the future.

But I longed to bring a championship back to France that summer.

In this bitter summer.

I decided to stay in Bastia.

They also welcomed new teammates: Kevin, Kanté, Romelu, Sadio, Klose, and all the others who came for the same dream.

We want the championship.

After defeating Reims, I said in the locker room, "Someone has to be the champion, so why can't it be us?"

I still hold this view to this day.

We may fail along the way, and we may end up with nothing, but this is a goal, a goal that is not out of reach.

Just like now, we've advanced in the Europa League, and we've also become the top team in Ligue 1 at the halfway point.

I don't know how this season will end, but throughout 2012, I was perfect, and Bastia was perfect too.

Together we have created so much history, and every time the blue flag is waved, it fills us with passion.

I think,

I will never stop, for my past, for that illusory dream, for Bastia, for France, and for each and every one of you.

Gaio stopped.

This handwritten letter is basically finished here. There isn't much content about the competition, just as he wrote at the beginning, it's unrelated to the competition.

He organized it, carefully checked it, and revised some paragraphs and wording.

I wrote a few hundred more words as I wrote.

Finally, Gaio sent the document to the editor's email address at the Bastia Daily.

Previously, when he contacted the editor to say that he would no longer conduct interviews and would instead submit a handwritten letter, the editor told him that as long as he submitted it before 7 p.m. on the 24th, he would be able to see it on the morning of the 25th.

After finishing this last thing, Gaio put away his computer.

Get out of the bedroom.

Now it's time to officially enjoy my Christmas holiday.

The family has already prepared all the ingredients for tonight's Christmas Eve dinner.

This is the absolute highlight of Christmas Eve!

Its significance far surpasses that of Christmas. The status of Christmas Eve dinner in the hearts of the French can be compared to that of Chinese New Year's Eve dinner.

Every household would start preparing early and then enjoy an extremely lavish, long, and exquisite dinner, often lasting for several hours until after midnight.

Because at midnight, a midnight mass is also required.

Although the proportion of young people in France who are religious is gradually decreasing, it has become an activity.

night.

The living room was tidied up and turned into a dining room, and the candles on the candlesticks on the table were incredibly bright.

Because the family's income has increased, the appetizers that Mom prepares for Gaio and the others have become incredibly abundant—oysters, foie gras, smoked salmon, shrimp, snails, foie gras terrine, and so on.

And of course, there's champagne.

However, neither Gaio nor his younger siblings drank it. Gaio had a diet plan that he had to strictly adhere to, even during holidays.

Although Fabreto won't say anything about it, it's Gaio's own insistence.

Pierre forbade his younger siblings from drinking alcohol because they were minors, and instead substituted them with beverages.

"Come on, cheers to family!"

Pierre didn't say much; as the head of the family, he raised his glass.

"cheers!"

Everyone's face was full of smiles.

Dinner is now officially beginning!
As the family enjoyed the delicious food and chatted, the biggest topic of conversation at this year's Christmas Eve dinner naturally revolved around Gaio.

He is now the most dazzling one in the whole family.

“Yang, where will you be next season? I saw in the media that you have to leave Bastia after this season, otherwise Bastia will completely collapse,” René, the brother, asked.

"The club hasn't made a decision yet, but I think it will probably be to England."

At home, Gaio naturally doesn't hide anything and clearly expresses his thoughts.

“Oh, the Premier League! Their physicality can be quite intense, you need to be careful,” René said with concern.

Meanwhile, his younger brother Lupp said, "Don't worry, I guarantee those rough guys in the Premier League won't even be able to touch the hem of Yang's shirt."

“I heard that broken legs are common there. I think maybe I should go to Spain. They emphasize technique, and Yang would be more suited to that,” René continued.

René's words were also approved by his mother.

"Yes, Spain is great. The weather and food in England are just torture. I wish I could go to Barcelona. There are sunny beaches and all kinds of delicious food there."

Speaking of this, Elodie, the younger sister, said, "Oh, Yang, why do you want to go there? I went to Liverpool once, and it was awful! The weather in England is terrible—you always have to carry an umbrella when you go out. You experience all four seasons in one day. Cloudy is the norm; the moment the sun comes out, the whole city collapses in the sun! And the food is even worse. Fish and chips are angels when they're hot, but turn into hellish grease-covered paper when they're cold. Vegetables have to be overcooked until they're mushy, and desserts are so sweet you need insulin. The Stargazing Pie with its sardine-like eyes made my scalp tingle. Help! Thank goodness for French food, or I would have died in England!"

Elodie's witty remarks made everyone laugh.

The older and younger brothers are more concerned about football, while the mother, older and younger sisters are more concerned about their living experience.

Gaio didn't explain further, because he couldn't get a word in edgewise.

We chatted all night.

In every aspect.

We kept exchanging our experiences from the past year.

same,

We ate all night long, including appetizers, main courses, cheese platters before dessert, desserts, and so on.

In the end, everyone enjoyed a satisfying dinner.

The mother and others were tidying up the table.

Pierre and Gaio stood on the balcony, looking at the myriad lights outside.

Pierre asked, "So you'd already planned to go to England, right? Otherwise you wouldn't have sent me there to make those preparations."

(End of this chapter)