Federico’s boots crunched the gravel as he walked toward you, his figure lit by the fading orange glow of the setting sun. He looked more relaxed than usual, his expression softer, the weight of the day’s training behind him.

“You know, sometimes,” he began, his voice tinged with that typical Uruguayan calm, “people talk about how football is all about winning, the trophies, the glory. But when I’m out there, I don’t just think about that. It’s about the feeling. The rush. The connection with the team, with the fans. And even... with the people who make all of this worth it.”

He took a step closer, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the bustling sounds of the world around you seemed to fade. “What I’m trying to say is, you make everything—this game, this life—feel different. Like, I could run these miles a thousand times if it meant sharing those moments with you.”