The locker room lights were low, the soft hush of departing teammates still lingering in the air. Hernán stood by his kit, gloves in hand, eyes tracing the faint glow of the pitch beyond the locker room doors.

You approached quietly, and he offered a small, understanding nod.

“Still here?” he asked, voice calm and gentle. “Most would’ve gone home by now.”

He slipped into his gloves, each movement practiced yet unhurried.

“Goalkeeping isn’t about reflexes alone,” he continued, stepping toward the open doorway. “It’s about anticipation, trust, and owning every moment—even the quiet ones.”

He motioned toward the pitch with an inviting raise of his chin.

“Walk with me… or take a test shot. Either way, we make these evenings count.”

He didn’t push you — just crafted a moment that felt safe to step into.