You are my Goal

The Parc des Princes Stadium, home of Paris-Saint-Germain, buzzed with a vibrant symphony of anticipation and excitement. Banners in the team's iconic blue, white, and red rippled in the wind, and the air thrummed with the murmur of the growing crowd...

21-year-old Maria Rodriguez clutched her notepad, the paper crinkling slightly under the pressure of her trembling fingers.

The day has arrived! The match day of Paris-Saint-Germain and their arch-rivals, Olympique de Marseille... And, it was Maria's major task to watch and report the match as a sports journalist for the LION Publishers of France. A challenging one that could shift her career to the next level.

Her chief editor, a gruff, chain-smoking veteran named Jean-Pierre, had given her one instruction by showing a talented scout newly joined at PSG: "Find the story behind this talent, Rodriguez. Everyone sees the goals. But you need to find the fire." Maria bit her teeth in tension while recalling how she managed to take on this assignment. "Easier said than done, Jean-Pierre!"

Her mission was not a fluff piece on the local dog show. This is about... Interviewing with Lucas Moratte. The name itself was just enough to send a jolt of energy and pressure at the same time to her.

At twenty-three, Lucas was already a footballing prodigy. Scoring a stunning 42 goals in the previous European league season and a hat-trick in the recent game, his tantalizing form instilled him as an emerging legend amongst fans and pundits. He is already the key player of PSG, a talent shining in the jersey number 13...

Now, Maria is here, sitting on the allocated seat of the media, but also breathing the same air as the sports fans. Still, as a newbie, the pressure was immense for her.

"I hope I won’t screw it up!" Maria muttered to herself while soaking up the pressured ambiance of the Parc des Princes Stadium. She frantically reread her prepared questions, trying to memorize them... Her mind flickered through the chaotic jumble of football statistics and potential interview scenarios.

“Lost, Mademoiselle?” A sneering voice came from her behind.

"Huh?!" Being startled, Maria snapped her head up.

It was Antoine Dubois. A veteran journalist known for his scathing critiques, who gives his unwavering support to the rivals of PSG, the Olympique de Marseille. A shark in a sea of minnows.

"I just... doing my research, Monsieur Dubois.” Maria stammered, clutching her notepad even tighter.

Dubois chuckled on a dry, humorless sound. "Once again, a newbie journalist came to witness the inevitable humiliation of PSG, perhaps?"

Maria felt the tone of provocation. "Whatever! This should be an interesting match." She replied politely.

"Ha, all our rivalry matches are just like that... But!" Then he intentionally made a dramatic pause, looking at the nervous glance of Maria. "Mark my words, Marseille will crush them hard tonight!"

"For your information, PSG has a newly scouted talented player." Maria bit back a retort. "And you know, his track record speaks for itself."

Dubois raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, is that about the pretty boy Moratte?" He leaned closer, his breath containing the smell of stale alcohol.

"I will tell you that he's an overrated player with no substance or skills! He’ll crack under pressure. Especially tonight. Le classique has a way of exposing weaknesses.” By saying it, he patted her on the shoulder, a gesture that felt more like a threat than a comfort.

"Anyway, enjoy the show, Mademoiselle. The match is gonna be… enlightening!" With a wicked grin, Antoine Dubois walked off to his casually decorated host seat, leaving Maria feeling unsettled and strangely vulnerable.

"Such a Jerk!" Maria grunted by controlling her anger.

The game hadn’t even started, and she already felt like she was drowning. Maria took her water bottle and drank half, quickly shoving off the memories of the previous banter from Dubois.

The roar of the crowd intensified as the players from PSG and Marseille took their positions on the field. Maria felt a surge of adrenaline, pushing aside her nervousness. She gripped her pen, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

This was it. Time to focus on her job.

With the match whistle, the stadium erupted!

The atmosphere was electric. Every tackle, every pass, every near miss was met with a cacophony of cheers and jeers. Maria scribbled notes, trying to keep up with the frenetic pace of the game...

"I hope Lucas will play in his usual right-wing position." While writing, her eyes scanned the pitch, searching for the familiar figure of Lucas Moratte.

But soon, Maria realized that Lucas was not present on the pitch!

"Huh!? Why isn't he featured on the starting eleven!" Maria was stunned by realizing it. The confusion warred with panic.

She quickly reread the team sheet, double-checking, triple-checking... Then she saw, in black and white, that Number 13, Lucas Moratte, is listed among the substitutes!

"No way this could happen! Had he been injured? Had there been a last-minute tactical change?!" Maria's face tensed with vivid thoughts as she grabbed her binoculars and scanned the PSG bench...

There he was, Lucas Moratte, sitting amongst his teammates! She tried to take a closer look at his unreadable face with her binoculars. He looked almost tense, just like her, maybe in a different scenario...

"Lucas was supposed to be a key part of PSG’s attack..." She sighed and then contemplated. "My gut says something is really off today for him.” Maria couldn't keep her eyes on him for not so long as the crowd’s cheers and groans pulled her focus back to the match play.

The initial excitement had already settled into a tense, challenging mind game for both teams... PSG, without Moratte’s spark, seemed sluggish, their attacks predictable. Marseille, on the other hand, were playing with a controlled aggression, their midfield orchestrating a patient, methodical build-up.

“This is not looking good... This is not looking good!” Maria could only mutter in frustration as the home team kept losing the ball position most of the time.

Dubois, seated a few rows away, glanced back at her with a knowing smirk. He didn’t need to say anything; his expression conveyed a different tone against her inner turmoil.

As 30 minutes passed, the game's pace picked up... Tackles from PSG defenders became more aggressive, a desperate attempt to regain control of the midfield.

The tension among their home ground fans increased with each passing moment, ground chants growing more frantic, more demanding! Meanwhile, Marseille strikers controlled the attack most of the time with ease and kept their football shots flying closer to PSG's goal post area most of the time.

And then it happened!

A perfectly weighted through ball sliced through the PSG defense, finding the feet of Marseille’s star striker, Mason Greenwood. With a deft touch, Mason rounded the onrushing goalkeeper and slotted the ball into the empty net!

GOAL!!!

The PSG fans fell silent. The cheers of the Marseille supporters in the away end were deafening, a mocking symphony of triumph. Maria scribbled furiously in her notepad, recording the details of the goal, the Marseille players' reactions, and the lack of balanced tactics from PSG.

While writing, Maria just glanced back at the bench. Moratte hadn't moved an inch. He was still sitting there, impassively looking at the PSG players...

The PSG coach, a notoriously volatile Italian named Marco Rossi, seemed apoplectic. He paced the sidelines, gesticulating wildly, his face a mask of fury. He barked orders at his assistants and to some players, his voice barely audible above the jeers of the crowd.

As the game went on, PSG's desperation grew. Their attacks became more disjointed, their passes more erratic. The Marseille defense, well-organized and disciplined, easily absorbed the pressure.

Finally... The halftime whistle blew with the score still at 1-0.

The PSG players trudged off the field, with their shoulders slumped, while they headed to the locker room to rest and rehydrate with drinks and snacks.

Then Maria's phone buzzed. The caller ID read Jean-Pierre, the LION Publishers senior editor, who had hired Maria to report on the live match. Looks like he needs my live reports to know the situations here." She whispered to herself.

Maria took a deep breath and answered the call. “Sir?”

“Rodriguez...” Jean's voice rasped through the phone, thick with nicotine and impatience."Report to me, how's the match going?"

Maria swallowed hard, but tried to replicate the situation through her explanation. "As of halftime, the match is 1-0 with team Marseille leading. I felt like PSG players were struggling with their unorganized match tactics."

"Oh, this is impossible! Wha.. what about Moratte?!" Maria could hear the gasping sound of Jean Pierre from the other end.

"It's true, sir! Lucas Moratte... He's currently on the substitute bench." Maria resumed with her thoughtful face. "He looks… nervous. From his actions, it's clear that something's not right between him and the management. And, I think there's more to this from Lucas's perspective rather than just a bad performance from the PSG team."

As she said her assumption, there was a long pause on the other end of the line. Maria could almost hear Jean-Pierre lighting another cigarette.

Finally, he spoke.

"I've heard the rumors that Lucas had been quiet on the previous day's training sessions. And you know, the rumors can be flying around like fireflies in the summer!"

"So... What do you think it is?" Jean asked her.

Maria held her breath. This was it. Her chance to prove herself!

"I don't know, sir. That's why I need time to find out... I've a feeling that if I could crack it out, this will be our biggest exclusive story." her heart tensed after ending the words.

Maria knew Jean-Pierre was a veteran who hated the no-nonsense behaviour of his juniors. And so, she patiently waited for his words.

"Alright, Maria Rodriguez!" Jean-Pierre finally said, his voice grudging.

"As I expected, you ignited a wick connected to the bomb. So, I'll give you the rest of the match and the press conference at my own expense. Consider it a trial by fire." He told by cracking another cigarette packet.

"Thank you, sir!" Maria happily said, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Hey, wait, wait, wait! Maira... you need to hear one serious thing from me before you hang up." He paused.

The silence on the line got heavy with unspoken pressure. After a few moments, Jean-Pierre resumed.

"Rodriguez... If you come back with nothing, if this whole Moratte thing turns out to be a wild goose chase, you will be charged personally for ruining my mood! Our organization doesn't pay for hunches. Just remember that!"

With that, the call ended from the other end, leaving Maria in stunned silence!

Maria stared at her phone, the initial euphoria replaced by a cold dread and frustration. "Why the heck are the people around me like this?!"

The weight of Jean-Pierre's expectations, the pressure of the assignment, started to ignite her inner self. She realized that the stakes had been raised to fall to any side!

Then Maria thought of herself. "The challenges can be a never-ending story! But failure is never an option to me." She put the smartphone back in her pocket.

Taking a deep breath, Maria lifted her gaze towards the bench. She saw that Lucas was still there.

But this time, he was different.

Moratte's dark eyes were fixed on the match ground, which was set for the second half preparations... His gaze channeled a spark of confidence, just like her eyes wanted to see from him! Maria felt a flicker of hope ignite within her.

"Maybe... Just maybe... He can be the answer to all my problems!"

[End of Chapter - 1]