A Standout Gem
"Have a good time. Don't get hurt, okay?"
"Yes!"
"Then in a week... oh."
Caterina broke off mid-sentence and burst into a soft laugh — because Yohan had thrown his arms around her in a sudden hug.
He was always affectionate, but today even more so. It was the day he was joining the club camp, and his emotions seemed to have surged to the surface. Seeing the boy she loved so dearly, all the money worries she'd been carrying melted clean away. Caterina patted his back and went on.
"If anything happens, there's a phone there, so call the convent right away."
"I will."
The football camp provided lodging for the participating children six days out of the week. For the three-week course Caterina had signed him up for, a guardian would come on the last day of the first week to take him home, then bring him back to the club training ground the following day. Visits in between were possible as well.
After saying goodbye to Yohan among the other children who'd arrived with their guardians, Caterina felt a hollow emptiness as she headed back to the convent. The thought of Yohan — who was with her every single day — being gone for six days left her strangely vacant. The other sisters at the convent would feel the same.
I hope he has fun...
She hoped he'd make lots of friends and spread that kind energy of his to everyone around him. With that wish, Caterina waved until Yohan was out of sight, then turned her steps toward the convent.
Meanwhile, Yohan — visiting the AS Roma youth training ground he'd dreamed of for so long — was inside the building with other children his age, receiving the uniform he'd wear during the camp.
"Whoa...!"
The club staff member handed him a jersey in deep red mixed with yellow. There was no number on the back, but his surname — LEE — was printed on it. Yohan's mouth fell wide open as he took it in his hands.
It was a different feeling from when Caterina and Melissa had given him Lorenzo Lucca's jersey. This felt like he had truly become part of this place — a swelling of emotion rose in his chest.
"You like it?"
The staff member, who'd been watching the locker room, approached Yohan as he beamed with a genuinely radiant smile. Yohan nodded again and again.
"Yes."
"You like Lorenzo, right?"
"Yes!"
"What about Sebastiano? Don't you like him?"
Roma had many outstanding players who devoted their loyalty to the club. Besides Lorenzo Lucca, there was Sebastiano Ricci, a defensive midfielder who'd come up through the club's youth academy, and central midfielder Alexander Rossi — all of them key players putting in major performances.
"I like him! I like Miguel too, and Aiden... and Nathan... Andrei Solomon, Jackson, Hakon Vasten, and..."
"So there's no player you don't like, huh?"
"I live in Rome and I love AS Roma, so of course I like all the players."
Kids of seven or eight were supposed to be pure, but in these tough times there were plenty of shrewd ones. Seeing Yohan behave in the complete opposite way — utterly innocent and unguarded — put the staff member in a good mood. He laughed heartily.
"Hahaha! You're right. Have fun out there."
"Thank you."
Since the camp was for children ages eight to ten, club staff were everywhere they went — practically surveillance. But everyone treated them so kindly that Yohan and the other kids never felt like they were being watched at all.
Yohan quickly made friends with the other kids his age, chatting away as they changed clothes. Then, following a staff member's guidance, he headed to the place where they'd be divided into groups.
"What's your name?"
"Yohan Lee."
"Just a moment."
The staff member rifled through papers until he found the document with Yohan's information.
"Yohan Lee, nine years old. You're from the Trigoria Convent, right?"
"Yes."
The staff member nodded and handed Yohan an orange vest, then pointed to a nearby group of three or four kids wearing the same color.
"You'll be playing in Group D. You'll be teammates for the next week, so get along."
"Got it."
"Do you always smile this much?"
"Yes!"
"Nice to see. By the way, you've been living so close to our training ground. Ever gotten autographs from the players at the entrance?"
"No. If I waited around for the players too long, it'd interfere with the sisters' daily routines."
Yohan's home address was the convent. And when a child lived at a convent, the likelihood that he was an orphan who'd lost his parents was very high. From Yohan's words, the staff member roughly grasped what situation the boy was in, and didn't press him further.
Still, something seemed a bit odd. The Trigoria Convent was a religious facility with quite a long history, and it was close enough to the training ground that he'd heard of it. Of course, he only knew roughly where it was — he'd never heard anything about it doubling as an orphanage, which raised a question. Moreover, an orphanage wouldn't typically send a child to a camp this expensive.
Well... I just never looked into it closely, so I wouldn't have known.
It was a convent, not a church. He had no reason to go there or see it in his daily life, so not knowing was only natural. Deciding to leave it at that, the staff member watched with warm satisfaction as Yohan bowed deeply at the waist in an Eastern-style greeting, then asked the next child who approached for his name.
The first day's curriculum involved gathering the children by group, having them introduce themselves to one another, then giving them a brief tour of the club training facilities.
Following the guide, Yohan arrived at the trophy room and his eyes lit up at the sight of more than ten trophies in well-maintained display cases. Three Serie A titles, one Serie B, nine Coppa Italia, two Supercoppa Italiana. The trophies earned through the players' efforts, standing proudly on display, looked magnificent.
Compared to the trophy rooms of other elite clubs, Roma's might look somewhat modest beyond the cup competition trophies. But in Yohan's eyes, nothing shone brighter.
In Italy, a country that lived and died by football, most people watched when matches were broadcast. Even at the Trigoria Convent where Yohan lived, on free days when there was a match, everyone tended to gather in front of the TV. Given Italy's intensely regional character, supporting the local team was the norm. The Trigoria Convent belonged to Rome, and the convent itself sat close to Roma's training ground. What's more, all the sisters were from Rome. So of course they supported Roma.
Yohan lived in Rome too, and his father had been a Roma supporter. The faint memory of his father calling him over in Korea, sitting him on his lap, and watching Roma matches together still remained stored among his good memories. On top of that, because the sisters always watched Roma's matches, he'd naturally come to love Roma as well.
I want to play here too.
In Yohan's mind, a scene was playing out: himself as a key player, leading Roma to a championship and lifting the trophy. Crowds roaring so loud it made his ears ring, himself and his teammates receiving thunderous cheers. Just imagining it sent a thrill through him.
"You there... Yohan Lee, we're moving to the next location."
A staff member called out after checking the name tag hanging around the neck of Yohan, who was completely absorbed in looking at the trophies. When Yohan turned and apologized, the staff member smiled gently.
"Want to look around more? That's fine. I'll stay with you."
"No, I've seen everything."
Before leaving the room, Yohan took one last look at the trophies. Could he play here someday and add even one more to that collection? If he could, nothing would make him happier. With that thought, Yohan stepped out of the room.
After the trophy tour, the schedule called for stretching, then learning basic skills through both theory and practice, followed by a short match. The curriculum had been designed on the judgment that, for building teamwork, it was better to play a light match with communication than simply talk among themselves.
"You'll play two quarters of ten minutes each for the first and second half — twenty minutes per half, forty minutes total. Absolutely no heading — you play with your feet only. Got it?"
At the kind voice of the young coach holding a football and a whistle, the children sitting scattered in front of him answered in unison.
"Yes!"
FIFA had set guidelines by age group for children's safety. For kids ages eight to ten like Yohan's group, matches were to be played 7-a-side including the goalkeeper. First and second halves were each allowed a maximum of twenty-five minutes. Within the allowed time, matches could be split into two quarters or four. Those were the rules, but since FIFA couldn't possibly check every informal game like neighborhood football or early-morning amateur matches, plenty of people enjoyed football without following them. AS Roma, for its part, had built the curriculum for the camp Yohan was attending in accordance with these rules.
When filling out the camp forms, Yohan had listed his preferred positions as striker and attacking midfielder, but with too many strikers overlapping in his group, he was moved down to attacking midfielder.
"Pass to me a lot. I can score plenty of goals."
As Yohan stepped onto the pitch in the commemorative football boots the club had issued — ones he could actually play in — reciting the basics he'd just learned, a kid his age in the same color vest approached and spoke to him. Yohan replied with his characteristic gentle expression.
"If you're in the right position, I'll pass to you often."
"Then I've got nothing to worry about."
The boy, whose reply suggested considerable self-confidence, went around demanding frequent passes from the other kids too. Whether he did or not, Yohan had no intention of funneling the ball to any one person.
What Yohan had learned playing football with his friends was that everyone wanted to touch the ball often. That was only natural. Who came to play football just to stand around staring at the ball? Asking for the ball was perfectly reasonable. But if it looked like it would be taken away immediately, or if it wasn't necessary, he'd make a different choice. Judgment was something you made yourself. If you just went along with every teammate's demand, you couldn't enjoy football itself. With that mindset, Yohan carefully tied the laces of his boots.