A Thunderbolt

The next morning things are back to normal, if anything your friendship had been taken to another level. You'd known him a week and he was easily your best friend, there wasn't even a close second. He was so different from the buddies you grew up with or the new pals you'd met at University. With them it was all about getting out and doing things, having fun, talking about shared interests. You had good friends but you only now were realizing it was all very surface level. With Charlie it was something else entirely.

Another day goes by and now you were starting to spend more time with Charlie than your other friends. You were still getting ready for the tryouts but you were now specifically making extra time for him. Even just sitting quietly with him as you both did school work was nice. You even go to a symposium with him where they were debating a variety of religious and philosophical issues. Nothing to do with Biology but you were learning Charlie had a wide array of interests. You sat patiently, only partially understanding most of what was said. These people had a language all their own. Suddenly you were the quiet one and Charlie the talker. You watched him proudly as he engaged.

By getting to know him you were starting to get a sense of just how smart he really was. He was smart. So smart. So fucking smart! But he was so humble about it that it was easy to miss. He never ever showed off or made others feel lesser than him, but he would always rise to any intellectual topic no matter what it was. Whether it be with fellow students or professors or visiting lecturers you began to realize that he was always the smartest guy in the room, yet nobody else realized it. He would always make others feel smart and even give credit to them for his ideas, which they would always accept without hesitation. He was a wonder to behold.

It is Wednesday night, the night before the big try out. You knew college soccer would be as far as you'd get if you were lucky enough to make it, but you sure wanted to give it a good try. You take it easy on the training ground, sticking with some passing and a light workout. You wanted to be fresh for tomorrow. You get in sweaty but still full of energy.

As you walk through the common room you notice a big whiteboard had been put up and a table with everyone's name was up on it. Some joker had started a pool on a variety of things that might happen in the year to come. Only five dollars to enter. You see the various categories. "Most likely to get arrested." "Most likely to flunk out." "Most likely to pass out in public." "Most likely to lose their virginity." and other jokey things. You see your name on there a few times for different things. The final column catches your eye. "Most likely NOT to lose their virginity." Under this heading you see the same name again and again. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. You grit your teeth. Fucking assholes. You look at the ever present Luiz who was sitting in his usual place, did he even have classes? He just shrugs. "Five bucks if you want in."

You shake your head and go to your room.

As you enter you see your roommate on his bed. He had his laptop beside him and papers laid out all around him. He was neck deep in some project or another.

You point over your shoulder. "Hey, sorry about that stupid pool out there. Don't listen to them."

He looks up. "Huh? Oh that." He smiles. "I don't care." He just laughs it off. "They're probably right."

You glance over the papers on his bed. You can't help but notice they are soccer related. You see positional charts and print outs of stats and figures. On the screen of his computer you see a paused grainy video of a soccer game.

With a suspicious tone you ask. "Whatcha doing Charlie?"

He looks around and starts organizing some of the papers. "I've been looking at some of your game footage and digging into your stats. I did a comparative analysis with other players of your level then corrected and compensated for a few factors. It didn't help that you are from such a small town."

You stand perplexed. "What?"

He finds one of the papers he had been looking for and points at it. "Here it is. You said you weren't good enough to go pro. I checked it out. Given the data I was able to get my hands on, and more than a little informed guess work, I'd say you actually have a decent shot. Comparatively speaking."

"What?" You weren't processing what he was saying.

"Sure. I mean it would be hard, but I've found various examples of players who were once at your level that made it." He looks up at you again and smiles. "You're right. You are good. Really good. Europe might be tough but the MLS is a possibility, maybe even the national team."

"I...I don't...huh?" He may as well have been speaking Latin.

He continues. "I was looking at your game film, what I could find anyways, and comparing it to the raw numbers and a scout report I was able to dig up I think I might have something. It is your positioning. You've got the skills, you've got the physicality and the conditioning, your passing is phenomenal. You just get dragged out of position too easily. Not good, especially for a defensive mid. And you are too willing to just clear the ball when you could play it out instead. Probably due to lousy coaching. These are things that aren't too hard to correct."

"Charlie...what are you talking about?"

He laughs. "Soccer, football, what do you think I'm talking about?"

You say in a stunned voice, repeating the phrase you'd drilled into your head over and over again during the last year. "I'm...I'm not that good Charlie. Even Sam says so."

"Well...I think you could be." He looks up at you with a bright grin, his eyes lock on yours. He says in an innocuous happy matter of fact sort of way. "I believe in you."

You are hit with a thunderbolt that nearly knocks you back a step. "What...did you say?"

He laughs at your stunned look. "I said I believe in you. If you really really want it I think you can do it. With a lot of hard work of course." He adds. "There are no guarantees obviously." There is a moment of silence as everything sinks in.

"HA HA HA!" You cry out. Rushing forward you scoop him in your arms and spin him around, papers go flying in all directions. He laughs and giggles and the unexpected excitement. He throws his arms around your neck and holds on for dear life as you whoop and laugh and spin.

You were on top of the world. A dream you thought dead and buried was rekindled once more. In these past few minutes he had done more than any coach or motivational speaker ever could. It wasn't the stats or the analysis, as nice as that had all been, it was his belief in you that made you feel suddenly invincible.

You set him down in front of you. Looking at the papers all around you say. "This must have taken you forever! Why..." You don't ask the question, you already knew the answer. He just smiles.

You take a half step toward him, your arms starting to reach out. You ALMOST lose it right there. You ALMOST grab him and kiss him right on those beautiful full lips of his. Almost...

You finally just shake your head and say. "You are something else Charlie Fox. You are something else."

You could not wait for the tryout the next day! You'd never been more ready for anything in your life.