David always found himself a window seat on the school bus back home. As always, he opened the window wide and let the afternoon breeze brush across his face as he recollected the game he played that day, moment by moment.“That was unbelievable, what you did on the field today!” one of his mates had said.
“I think we’ve got a national-level player on our hands, guys. Get your autographs while you can!” another player teased David, patting his back almost a bit too hard.That was the distant dream — playing for his country and creating history, like all his soccer heroes.
David could almost taste it; the sweet air of victory and pride when his team and he held the golden championship trophy and smiled for the photographs.
David would constantly rehearse what he would say for the cameras and the papers at the end of the match. How he rose from humble beginnings. And how he owed his mother everything he had become
