Lionel Messi-Barcelona

Lionel Messi is arguably the world's number one footballer. He scores hundreds of goals in his career, but what happens when he is injured and Barcelona signs another world class player, Cristiano Ronaldo, to replace Lionel? Can Lionel ever get back to his best and beat his enemy Cristiano?

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2. The Facts

"You'll be out for at least six months," the words continuously replayed in my mind as I stared at the pitch.

"You alright?" Tito Vilanova, Barcelona's manager, asked me, patting my back.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I lied, grabbing my crutches and standing up from the touchline. It was agony, having to sit in the dugout and hold back the urge to go and join in with the match. 

"You don't seem fine," Tito frowned, standing up as well. 

"I am fine," I replied, getting annoyed. I hated having people fuss over me, so this injury was my worst nightmare. 

"Fine, fine. Won't you want to sit and watch the game?" Tito questioned, and I shook my head. 

"No thanks. I need some air," I fibbed, and he laughed slightly. 

"This is an open roof stadium. There's plenty of air here," he stated, sitting back down in his seat. 

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot that," I surrendered, sitting down next to him, sulking. 

"It will be fine," Tito reassured, glancing down at my broken leg covered in plaster. 

"Yeah...." I trailed off, still unsure if Tito was telling what he honestly thought. 

"Trust me," he whispered into my ear, before his eyes shot back to the game, and jumped up as one of the Barcelona's best players and my best friend, Andres Iniesta, neared the goal with the ball at his feet. 

"Shoot!" I screamed over the sound of the crowd's loud voices, and Andres heard me, then he kicked the ball powerfully. The ball flew through the air, and curled perfectly into the top left corner of the goal. As the ball entered the goalmouth, the Barcelona crowd loudly cheered, many waving differently coloured flags. Tito jumped up and down in joy, cheering along with the crowd. Rubbing my ears at the loud outburst, I laughed, but then as I watched the team run to Andres and hug him, congratulating him on how awesome the goal was, the smile on my face faded as I immediately realised I wasn't able to do this for at least six months. No team hugs, no jokes in the dressing room, no loud cheering for me, no attention at all, no goals, no proudness for myself, no laughter, no smiles, no success for me. I was going to miss being a footballer. A lot. 

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