Lionel Messi
I was shocked.
I had known Lionel Messi would come to Barcelona as a boy, but I never imagined it would be today.
"Alright then, starting today we'll get into training in earnest."
Garcia was talking, but the words barely registered.
How could they? It was Messi.
Seeing the young face of the player called the greatest in football history standing right there in the flesh made the whole moment feel unreal.
"Hello?"
And he sat down right beside me.
"Hello."
Fortunately, none of what I was feeling showed on the outside. For all my nerves, Messi said nothing more after the greeting. He simply focused on listening to Garcia.
The documentaries I had watched in my past life had described him as shy and introverted as a child, and that seemed to be exactly right.
I was so busy paying attention to Messi that I completely lost track of time. Before I knew it, Garcia appeared to have finished his explanation.
"Let's go, Junho."
Jorge had already come over.
"Oh, nice to meet you. You must be the new kid who joined today."
Naturally his eyes landed on Messi sitting next to me.
"He's huge......"
Startled by Jorge's sheer size, Messi ducked behind me.
"I hear that a lot!"
I worried the reaction might have offended him, but Jorge did not seem bothered in the slightest.
"But you're really small."
"I'll get bigger!"
Even as an adult Messi would barely clear 170 centimeters, so of course a thirteen-year-old version of him looked tiny.
"Sorry. I wasn't trying to look down on you or anything."
Jorge scratched the back of his head, looking genuinely apologetic. He had probably just blurted it out without thinking, but Messi had growth hormone deficiency—something that only happened to roughly one person in twenty million—so getting angry was more than fair.
"Ah, I'm sorry too. I overreacted."
After they traded apologies and the air turned awkward, I could not take it any longer.
"Let's stop talking and go train."
Jorge and Messi both nodded at my words.
"Yeah. We should train."
We reached the training ground. Kids who had already been with the youth team were mixed in with the ones who had joined yesterday.
"Alright. Since this is our first real day, let's get to know one another a little with a simple match before training."
Garcia said it while gathering everyone in one place.
"How are the teams going to be decided?"
One of the kids asked, and Garcia clapped his hands.
"Good question. To get a feel for everyone's level too, we'll split the original kids against the ones who came in yesterday."
"Yes, sir."
The boy who had asked looked satisfied. Garcia watched him with an approving expression and then said:
"What are you waiting for? Get up and put on the vests."
And so the match between the original Barcelona boys and the new arrivals began.
Hmm. I didn't expect a match before we even started training.
I had not seen that coming. Walking in and straight into a game was a surprise. Still, I actually liked it better this way. Starting with a match felt right.
Of course a footballer had to train hard. But the whole point of training was to play matches, so getting on the pitch immediately could not have been a bad thing.
"Hoo... I'm nervous. What if I get pushed around in the physical battles?"
Jorge wore a tense expression.
"Uh... I don't think that's going to happen."
Anyone who ran into Jorge's body would probably go flying. I already felt a little sorry for whatever opposing attackers ended up facing him.
"Hwah... hwah..."
Beside me Messi was taking deep, obvious breaths, looking every bit as nervous as he felt.
"You okay?"
"Y-yeah! I'm fine!"
He bit his tongue mid-sentence. How tightly wound did you have to be to bite your own tongue while talking?
"I can do this."
He was even trying to hypnotize himself. Seeing that surprised me, though it made sense. Messi had come to Barcelona specifically to treat his growth hormone deficiency. If he did not perform well here, the odds of the club covering his treatment costs would drop sharply. No board of directors would throw money at a player who could not play.
"Messi, just do what you always do."
"What I always do?"
"Yeah."
I was not particularly worried. Who was I to worry about him? This was Lionel Messi. Even if he only showed half of his usual ability, he would pass with flying colors.
"What I always do... what I always do..."
He still looked tense, but he was Messi. It would be fine. Who was I to worry about anyone?
The opposing defenders wore looks of pure despair.
"This is insane..."
"How the hell are we supposed to stop that?"
The moment the match started, Messi shook off every trace of nerves and began to run wild. He put his signature dribbling on full display and toyed with the other team, then finished with a goal purely on individual skill.
"How is he that good?"
Jorge came over to my side.
"Because he's Messi."
Jorge gave me a look that clearly said What is that supposed to mean?, but I did not bother answering. I was too overwhelmed. The idea that someone who had once played in the K League 2 was now sharing a pitch with Messi still did not feel real. And it lit a fire under me. Imagining what it would be like if I could play football the way Messi did simply made me laugh.
"Heh heh......"
"That laugh is creepy..."
I ignored him.
While I was still grinning to myself, Messi came running straight at me.
"Junho, I scored!"
For some reason he latched onto me.
"Pretty good, right?"
"Yeah. You did great."
Of course he had. Messi's play had been beautiful. Naturally I did not say that part out loud. I still had enough of a sense of embarrassment that speaking those words would have been more than I could handle.
"Hehe."
Watching him smile so goofily in front of me made it hard to believe. The second a match started he turned into a monster.
Garcia, the Barcelona youth coach, could not believe his own eyes. The small boy who had only arrived yesterday was dominating the match.
"Somebody stop him already!"
"Fuck... how are we supposed to stop that?"
Ordinarily the sight of his players fighting among themselves would have made him angry. Right now he felt no such urge. Probably because he was thinking the exact same thing. No idea how to stop that kid would form in his head. The thought that he was watching a natural disaster kept circling through his mind.
In truth, when Garcia had first looked at Messi's profile he had felt nothing special. The resume carried the kind of record that earned the word "genius," but his reaction had been, So what? This was Barcelona, after all. In Spain it stood alongside Real Madrid at the very top, and even on the world stage it ranked among the elite. Naturally every local Spanish prodigy and every so-called generational talent from across the globe came knocking. Only a tiny fraction ever secured a place; most were weeded out.
So he had not expected much this time either—until he saw that performance. What adjective could even describe this player? Garcia was certain human language simply did not have the words. That much was clear. The little boy out there was producing the kind of football you could only watch in silence.
"Ahh...!"
Nothing but continuous gasps of admiration left Garcia's mouth.
The match ended. The score was 10–1. Messi had scored seven; I had scored three. I had put in a solid showing of my own, but compared to Messi it was obviously nothing special. The entire game I kept thinking, Is this even allowed? He's just ripping through all eleven of them by himself. Monster-level ability—that was Messi for you. And the second the match ended, the same kid turned into a complete softie.
"Hoo... thank goodness. I think I did well today!"
"Messi, you were incredible. I never imagined you had that kind of skill."
"Ah... it was nothing."
"Nothing? I was blown away just watching you dribble!"
"Uh......?"
Even though Messi wore a dazed expression, Jorge refused to stop talking.
"It really looked like Maradona had gotten young again and come back to play."
"No..."
"Or wait—maybe Pelé? Yeah, Pelé's better!"
"Th-that's..."
"It was enough to make you wonder if the god of football had taken human form!"
"Stop it......!"
Under Jorge's praise Messi's face had turned bright red.
"Hoo... I'm grateful for the compliments, but that's way too much!"
"Doesn't seem like too much to me....?"
"Junho, not you too!"
When I piled on as well, Messi's face only kept getting redder.
"I believe you're going to become the best player in the world, Messi."
"Huh? Really?"
"Which means I should get your autograph in advance."
"Autograph?"
"Yeah. If I get your signature now, its value will skyrocket later. Then I can sell it and cash in!"
Messi made a complicated face at that.
"That feels a little..."
"Obviously I'm joking!"
Of course it was a joke. With future knowledge in hand, I had no real need to make money off Messi's signature. Still, I was a little curious what a Messi autograph would be worth someday.
While I was lost in that thought, I noticed Messi fidgeting.
"Messi, if you've got something to say, just say it."
"It's the first time."
"First time for what?"
What was he talking about?
"The first time I've given anyone my autograph. So... take good care of it."
As he said it, Messi showed a bright, clear smile. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile.
"I will."