The Ghost of Portugal

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Chapter 30 – The Waiting Game

Two weeks.

João thought it would fly by. Instead, every day crawled like extra time in a cup final when you're defending a one-goal lead.

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Day 3.

João sat in the training center gym, an elastic band looped around his knee, doing slow rehab exercises while the rest of the team trained outside.

Tiago popped his head in, sweat dripping.

"Having fun yet?"

João shot him a look. "Yeah. Living the dream."

Tiago grinned. "Want me to bring you a trophy for best elastic band workout?"

"Maybe after you work out your first touch," João fired back.

---

The truth was, he hated this.

Hated the quiet. Hated watching from the sidelines while other players took his spot. Hated hearing Rafa Leão joke about how "João finally learned to pass—to the physio."

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That night, João FaceTimed Hugo back home.

His little brother answered from the living room, sitting cross-legged, PlayStation controller in hand.

"Still injured?" Hugo smirked.

João laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, kid."

Hugo's eyes narrowed. "When you come back, are you still gonna play striker?"

João paused. That question had been circling his mind too.

"I don't know," he admitted.

---

The Sporting coaches had started talking.

They liked him better as an attacking midfielder now. More passes. More control. Less risk.

But part of João still craved the spotlight. The goals. The rush of the last touch before the net rippled.

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Day 7.

He sat on the bench during a friendly against Braga's youth team. The coaches barely glanced at him. Some of the new boys were starting to look sharp. Even sharper than before.

Tiago sat next to him, arms crossed.

"You're quiet."

João shrugged. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

They laughed, but there was tension beneath it.

---

In the locker room after the match, Miguel Luís—captain, big talker—walked by, slapping João's back.

"Don't worry, maestro. We're saving your spot."

João grinned but felt his stomach tighten.

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Day 10.

Rehab got harder. More ice baths. More resistance work.

João stood in front of the mirror in the dorm bathroom, flexing his knee slowly.

"Come on, come on," he whispered.

Tiago leaned into the doorway, toothbrush in his mouth.

"You talking to your leg again?"

João laughed, eyes rolling. "Yeah. You got a problem?"

"Nah. Just don't start giving it a name."

João smirked. "Might call it Rafa. Since it's slowing me down."

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Day 13.

João had a sit-down with the coach.

Martins crossed his arms, eyes sharp. "João, you've got time. Use it."

"I don't like watching."

Martins smiled thinly. "None of you do. But patience is part of the game."

João pressed his lips together. His knee itched under the brace, like it was mocking him.

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Day 14.

Clearance day.

The physio tested his knee, twisting gently. "Pain?"

João shook his head.

"You're good to go. Light training. No matches yet."

---

Later that night, João lay in bed, phone buzzing.

Group chat again.

Rafa Leão:

He's back! Watch out, ankles!

Bruno Paz:

Don't let him meg you, Rafa.

Tiago:

Let's see if the elastic band training pays off.

João grinned, setting the phone down.

Tomorrow, he'd be back on the pitch. Different role maybe. New questions for sure.

But for now, he closed his eyes and let himself drift, finally, into sleep.

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