8 February 2018
The Renfe AVE train bulleted across the tracks running through the rolling hills of Guadalajara. Inside, Jordi and Balde were butting heads in an intense game of chess on Gavi's iPad. Gavi, himself, was sprawled out in the seat next to Jordi's. After brief intervals, Jordi would nudge Gavi when his snores got too loud for the cabin.
"Checkmate! 6-0 now?" Jordi whispered loudly.
"Stop lying! It's 5-0."
"Hahaha, you're shameless, Balde."
"I'm not playing, man. We'll reach Madrid in half an hour anyway."
Jordi settled back in his chair and plugged in his headphones. The rolling fields gave way to a prelude of Madrid's cityscape. Jordi's thoughts outpaced the train as his earphones played 'Where the Lemon Trees Blossom Waltz' by Strauss. He did not want to admit that he was anxious. Jordi drew a parallel to a Frodo Baggins journeying to the outside world for the first time. He felt a homesickness already, and they had not even stepped out of the train.
…
Jordi's trio spotted the man sent by RFEF soon after they arrived. He was in his 30s, with prominent dark circles and a cheerful smile. Much to Jordi's surprise, the board he held up had a fourth name in 'Fermin Lopez'. Jordi had hung out with Fermin at La Masia, as they were the same age and he played with Balde. None in the group knew that he was on the same train.
After Fermin joined them, Raul, the RFEF correspondent, drove them to the massive headquarters of the federation. There, he put Balde in charge of leading the group through check-in and room assignments. Much to Gavi's disappointment, Jordi was not assigned with him; rather, Balde was. Their rooms, however, were right across from each other.
The rooms were plainer versions of the dorm rooms at La Masia. Two single beds, three lounge chairs, a table, and a TV populated the small space. Right next to the entrance was the bathroom and closet. From the looks of it, Jordi's roommate had not yet arrived. Jordi placed his suitcase next to the bed with the window. He left a quick message of his arrival in the family WhatsApp chat and hopped in the shower.
…
"Mister Gordo's office is at the end of this hallway. Just knock and enter. He is expecting you." Raul patted Jordi's shoulder and shot off in a different direction.
Jordi walked down the hallway. He knocked on the last door, the nameplate on which read 'David Gordo, Espana U16 Head Coach'.
"Come in."
Jordi entered a clean and minimalist office with a desk, some chairs, and two couches in the corner. The desk held three different computer screens and an iPad right in front of David. David's head was shaved clean and shiny. He wore an intense expression. His eyes were trained on Jordi, who walked up to shake David's hand.
"Jordi, you're finally here. How was your travel?"
"It was good, Mister. Thank you."
"Hm. Jordi, I meet every newcomer to the U16 side. I need to tell you that I am very excited for you to join us. However, I have a feeling you won't stay with us too long. That is a wild thing to say for a 14-year-old, eh?"
"Thank you, Mister. I am excited to be here."
"So, Jordi, let's talk about— "
A double knock on the door interrupted Coach Gordo. He appeared annoyed at the timing, but smiled to hide it from Jordi.
"Yes?"
The door opened, and a middle-aged man, about 40 years of age, stepped in. He was in a grey three-piece suit that silently stated its quality. His tall height, 6'2" or maybe 6'3", and broad shoulders granted him a deep presence in the room. With black hair neatly gelled back, black eyes, and sharp features, the man was remarkable in appearance. He did not walk past the door handle that his hand rested on. From that position, his eyes roamed the room, passing over Jordi as they did over the empty parts.
David abruptly rose from his seat, "Mister Serra!"
Jordi also rose from his seat, but in a more collected manner, a detail that did not escape Mister Serra.
"Have a seat, Coach Gordo. I was walking by and decided to step in to remind you of our meeting today. I am sure you remember, but a reminder helps, right?"
"Of course, Mister Serra. Thank you!"
"Hmm… I'll see you then."
Mister Serra nodded at David Gordo and closed the door. Jordi was amused and somewhat unsettled by the indifference in the stranger's demeanour. He was not accustomed to this behaviour in his small world of La Masia and El Raval.
"That was Mister Roger Serra, the Director of Football at RFEF and my immediate superior."
Coach Gordo's voice contained something akin to respect, but not exactly that. It was similar to the tone Jordi's old coaches would use for the new management at La Masia. Jordi had guessed before that it was more a deference out of necessity than a choice of respect. In his mind, this was worse than openly defying someone. Is it not more disrespectful to not even be deemed worthy of honesty?
"Anyway, let's return to our discussion. We'll sit and talk in detail about your role and the team tactics further into the camp. Right now, I just want to let you know the basics. We play in the 4-3-3 that the senior team plays. You are familiar, correct?"
"Yes, Mister. We play in 4-3-3 at La Masia as well."
"Good. You'll be playing the same pivot role as in Barca. However, you might have to rotate to the centre back position during this friendly."
…
Coach Gordo did not keep Jordi for long. In 5 minutes, flanked by Gavi, Fermin, and Balde, he was making his way out of the RFEF headquarters. They were going to the Adidas Brand Centre to pick up Jordi's boots. Alessandro had also arranged a photoshoot for future use and his social media, which was just his Instagram profile with 2 photos of Teresa and him thus far.
The bus would take them a quarter of an hour, so Gavi convinced him to call an Uber. Jordi was not worried about paying. Rather, he enjoyed taking the public transport, especially in a new city to be discovered. Unfortunately, no one, not even Gavi, shared his passion in today's heat.