Football singularity-Chapter 377 Tourist Mode

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[Monday 30/09/2019, 7:30 – Turin, Italy]

[Rakim Pov]

"Yo this is crazy, I’ve had so many people call me trying to check if I’m dead and the dumb ones directly posted RIP Paulinho," The Brazilian striker told me with a sigh as he plopped down on the chair next to me with a plate of fruits and porridge.

"You’re lucky, my ex-wife tried to claim my insurance directly and now I’ve got them hounding me trying to up the rate, something about me being a high-risk client," Bellarabi stated with an exasperated tone, looking quite haggard as if he had been through a battle.

"That’s still calm bro, my friends and acquaintances tried to sell my story to Netflix for a quick buck," Wendell commented with an indignant smile as he pierced the slice of mango on his plate with his fork.

"My family was also worried, my girl even threatened to hop on the next flight to support me so I can relate with you guys," I commented a knowing nod as I took another bite of my porridge with pieces of broccoli cut into.

"Bro shut up, don’t compare your hairy-tail-type family to us," Paulinho commented as he proceeded to push my head in mock anger. "I had to watch this guy field calls for hours with people crying trying to make sure he is ok. It’s not just his family, his fans are wilding on the internet too, looking like they will start World War 3 at any moment, and he wasn’t even hurt."

"Yeah, I think I saw a guy from Texas threaten the airline with a rocket launcher if any harm befell you?" Bellarabi stated sounding almost accusatory as he pointed at me with his fork as if I was the one who had mobilized the madman.

"Bro it’s Texas, the land of the free, literally," I simply retorted knowing just how crazy that country can be. "To be fair I don’t even know what to say anymore. People are wild. All this drama, and we’ve still got to lock in for tomorrow’s game against The Goat from Portugal."

"Dang, you’re right but I can’t even spare a thought to the match with all the drama," Bellarabi stated already dreading all the BS the media had stirred up with their false news. He for one didn’t care about it much but the extra distraction wasn’t something he needed right now, especially in a Champions League match against CR7.

"Whether you are mentally ready or not, get moving before Bosz comes in here and starts yelling about professionalism. You know he’ll have us doing drills in the parking lot if we’re late for the morning brief." Havertz exclaimed at the other end of the table, having dealt with his fair share of emotional quarterbacking with his loved ones.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

"Facts," Wendell agreed, standing and stretching. "Last time someone was late, he had us running suicides while forcing them to watch on the sidelines. So don’t anyone be a hero, you heard. Following his words the players proceeded to wolf down the rest of their breakfast before quickly dispersing to their rooms to get ready.

~~~

[08:00 – Turin, Italy]

"We had a different program planned for today, but all this mess has put a wrench in that. From the looks of it, none of you could focus even if we proceeded with training. So, we have decided to give you the morning off, we will meet at 2 pm for a light training session." Coach Bosz stated after we all gathered in the hall designated for the meeting.

His announcement caught everyone by surprise, but no one was going to argue with the boss after getting free time. Quite a few players began to fidget in their seats already wanting to set off into the beautiful city of Turin. Coach must have noticed this too and didn’t bother holding them back after giving a few more instructions.

As soon as Coach Bosz dismissed us, the room buzzed with energy. Players scattered, already making plans for how to spend their unexpected free time. Wendell and Paulinho were huddled near the door, talking about exploring Turin’s famed coffee culture, while Bellarabi muttered something about tracking down a decent barber.

I also wanted to explore the city but decided to go change into some comfortable clothing not willing to walk the streets of Turin in Leverkusen Tracksuits. Nothing against the Tracksuits but they practically shine that bat signal on me letting everyone know I’m a professional footballer.

The streets of Turin were alive with the hustle of a Monday morning. I had managed to slip out of the hotel unnoticed, wearing a pair of Amarie Denim jeans and a white Pac T-shirt, my dreadlocks tucked under a black cap. I chose not to wear my GLD chain or any jewelry other than a simple silver chain knowing full well that these tourist cities are also known for their dark sides.

The number of doe-eyed tourists that come here each year only to donate their valuables, practically keep the lights on in the city. Anyway, why tourists feel the need to flex their money in unfamiliar streets without adequate protection didn’t matter to him. My disguise wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to keep most eyes off me and at best they’d consider as just another Doe-eyed tourist.

The city had a unique charm. Baroque architecture lined the streets, interspersed with modern cafes and boutiques. The aroma of fresh espresso wafted from open shop doors, mingling with the faint hum of conversations in Italian. From the little Italian I knew I was able to navigate the streets and hold simple conversations.

After 20 minutes of just strolling through the heart of Turin, I found myself in Piazza San Carlo. The square was bustling with locals and tourists alike, enjoying their morning routines. I stopped by a small café on the corner, tempted by the inviting scent of fresh pastries. A friendly barista greeted me, his cheerful demeanour matching the warm ambience of the café.

"Un caffè e un cornetto, per favore," I said, my accent causing him to chuckle.

"You’re not from around here, are you?" he asked in English, handing me my espresso and croissant.

I smiled. "No, just visiting for a few days."

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "You play football, don’t you?"

I hesitated, not wanting to draw attention. "I dabble," I replied with a grin, hoping that would end the conversation.

He didn’t press further but offered a knowing nod. "It’s unsurprising ever since Ronaldo came here, everyone wants to dribble around the world. Anyways, welcome to Turin. Enjoy your stay."

I thanked him and took my food to a nearby bench, where I could people-watch without feeling too exposed. Turin’s rhythm is distinctly different from any other city I’ve been to over the years. Despite it being a modern city, it felt more like a blend of a Victorian city with people donning warm smiles as they got on with their morning routine.

Even those racing off to work wore polite smiles as they interacted with their peers. It wasn’t too long until the first street performance turned up at around 10:30 am. It was refreshing to be a part of it, even if only for a moment.

~~~

[11:15 – Via Roma, Turin, Italy]

Continuing my exploration, I wandered along Via Roma, one of the city’s main shopping streets. The designer stores lining the boulevard tempted me, but I wasn’t here to shop. I stopped by a street vendor selling gelato and indulged in a scoop of pistachio, savouring the creamy texture as I made my way toward Parco del Valentino.

"I feel like I cracked the code to a perfect date," I muttered to myself as it made sense in my head that if I took May here or another city neither of us had been to, just exploring would be an adventure of its own.

{Host that’s called going on holiday,}

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To Be Continued...