After passing the tournament, everything felt like a dream for John. He had overcome his first serious challenge, and soon he would train with the best young players of the Northern Continental League. The entire village was buzzing with excitement. Even those who had once doubted him now spoke proudly: "The boy from Sornare village who followed his dream."
But John didn't let the excitement make him lazy. Instead, he worked even harder. Every morning and evening, he was on the field, determined to make the most of his opportunity.
One cold afternoon, after a long training session, John returned home and noticed an unusual silence in the house. He opened the door and saw his mother sitting in the kitchen with a worried face.
"Mom? Where's Dad?" John asked.
His mother looked up and forced a smile.
"He went to fix the roof on the barn. You know how he is—wants to do everything with his own hands."
At that moment, the phone rang. His mother quickly stood up and answered. As she listened, her face grew pale.
Without saying a word, she grabbed her coat and rushed out. John followed her without hesitation.
When they arrived at the barn, a few villagers had already gathered. John's heart sank as he saw his father sitting on the ground, clutching his chest, pain written all over his face.
"Dad!" John shouted and ran to him.
His father gave a faint smile.
"Hey there, son… Just fell a bit badly…" he managed to say.
But it was clear the situation was more serious. His hand was swollen and oddly bent. Someone had already called a vehicle to take him to the hospital.
John sat silently in the car, a heavy feeling in his chest. The man who had always seemed strong now looked so fragile, and it broke John's heart.
At the hospital, the doctors quickly examined his hand. After several hours, they confirmed:
"The hand is broken. We'll put it in a cast, and he'll need to take it easy for a few months."
John's father tried to joke:
"At least it's the left one. I can still hold my mug."
But John didn't smile. A deep worry had taken root inside him. His father was the one who had always believed in his dreams, supported him every step of the way. And now, he couldn't help. John realized—it was time for him to be strong in his father's place.
That evening, John sat quietly in front of the mirror. In his hand was still the flyer from the Northern League trial. But his thoughts were elsewhere.
"How can I leave Dad like this and go to training?" he wondered.
His mother entered the room and sat beside him.
"I know what you're thinking, John. But listen to me… Your father never wanted your dreams to be left unfinished. He's proud of you now, too. If you stay here just for him, he'll be even more upset."
John nodded silently. He had never felt such a heavy responsibility before.
In the following days, John divided his time. In the morning, he went to school, then trained, and in the evenings, he helped around the house, doing his father's tasks. He oversaw roof repairs, fed the animals, and went to the market with his mother.
He was tired, but deep inside, he felt himself growing stronger. Each hard day reminded him that great dreams required great effort.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would put on his field gloves and step outside. Under the dark sky, he continued training, as if in those moments, the whole world consisted only of him and his dream.
Finally, the day came when John was to leave for his first official training with the League.
At the breakfast table, his father—his left hand wrapped in a cast—smiled and said:
"Go, son. You've already proven who you are. Now let the world see it too."
John could barely hold back his tears. He approached, bowed, and hugged his father tightly.
"I won't let you down, Dad," he whispered.
The journey to the big city was long. From the car window, he looked at unfamiliar fields, city lights, wondering what kind of new world awaited him.
When he arrived at the training stadium, everything looked enormous. Athletes from everywhere, expensive gear, experienced coaches.
For a moment, doubt crept into his heart.
"What is a village boy like me doing here?"
But he quickly remembered his mother's words, his father's smile, Danny's voice in his soul—"Prepare for more."
He stood tall, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the field.
The coaches were closely observing every move from the players. John gave his all. Every dive, every saved ball, every command to his teammates—he did with his whole heart.
In his mind, there was only one thought:
"You're not here by accident. You're here because you deserve it."
When the training ended, one of the coaches approached him, clearly impressed.
"There's something in you, John Vermog. It's not just technique—it's heart. And that's what makes a real player."
John bowed his head, smiling.
That evening, as John sat on the balcony of the city hotel, he pulled out his old notebook from his bag.
He opened the last entry: "Today I took the first real step."
Below it, he added a new line:
"And I won't stop."
In the wind, he thought he heard that same voice he first heard during his meeting with Danny:
"Prepare for more."