God Of football Chapter 1048: Already Won!

"Where’s the tape?"

"Why are you always asking where the tape is?"

"I think I left my boots at the hotel!"

Amidst the ruckus, Ronaldo let the tablet he had been holding onto a while ago settle onto the wooden bench beside him, but his eyes never left it as he slipped on a pair of socks.

On the device, journalists continued firing questions while on the opposite end, Izan answered them, almost looking like he was a bit fed up with how repetitive things were getting.

He had been watching for a few minutes and a moment later, he reached over and pressed the screen dark.

He’d seen enough.

The dressing room around him was rowdy to say the least, and he couldn’t tell if it was as a result of the players trying to mask their nervousness or because they were genuinely unbothered by the fight ahead.

With a sigh, Ronaldo focused on getting ready.

One by one, Portugal’s players changed into their warm-up kit, all while keeping up their conversations.

Ronaldo sat quietly for another moment before rubbing both palms across his face when he was done changing.

Before he could do anything else, a voice reached him.

"How are you feeling?"

At that, he looked up to find Roberto Martínez standing beside him with hands tucked into the pockets of his suit.

"How are you feeling?" Roberto reminded as Ronaldo came to himself.

Thinking of his answer, he drew in a slow breath before looking at the manager.

"...Like a teenager."

Hearing that, the Portugal manager couldn’t help but laugh.

"I was hoping you’d say something like that."

Martínez said and smiled before lowering himself into the empty seat beside his captain.

"I’m glad."

Ronaldo glanced sideways, but the two men didn’t really speak.

There wasn’t really anything left to say between them.

They’d spoken countless times over the past month.

About tactics.

About managing minutes.

About the opportunity in front of them.

Now...

There was only an hour separating them from it.

Martínez finally pushed himself forward, resting his forearms on his knees before clapping his hands once.

The sharp sound carried across the room.

"Everyone," he said as the conversations gradually stopped in their tracks.

Martínez leaned forward as his eyes travelled across every face.

"I’ve been thinking about what to tell you all today."

He smiled and then folded his arms.

"And I realised something."

"I genuinely believe we’ve already won."

A few players nodded, but most had a few confused looks on their faces as they weren’t really getting it if their coach was being philosophical or was saying this as an out for himself in case things didn’t go well.

"We’ve already won this World Cup."

Martínez nodded to himself before continuing.

"Not the trophy," he clarified, " but the opportunity," he added as the players finally understood what he was trying to drive at.

He stood up and, a moment later, began pacing slowly through the centre of the room.

"How many players dream of reaching a World Cup knockout match against the best team in international football?"

He looked towards Bruno.

"Against the favourites."

Then toward Vitinha.

"The team everybody says will lift the trophy."

His eyes finally settled on Ronaldo.

"The team led by the player everyone calls the future," he said and shook his head.

"We’ve already been given the privilege of playing the biggest match in world football."

His voice remained calm.

"And now..."

He spread his hands.

"...we simply have to enjoy it."

Several players nodded unconsciously as Martínez stopped walking.

"They’re favourites, and there’s no point pretending otherwise."

"They’ve earned that. They’ve been magnificent over the course of 2 years. At least since the Euros, in my opinion, and that translates to how they haven’t lost a single international game in 38 matches."

"They have Izan, who I can say, many of us in this room have had a brush with in one way or the other."

The room remained silent as the Portugal manager slowly turned his attention away from Ronaldo and towards the rest of the squad.

"But..."

"...we have you."

His gaze landed on Vitinha.

"We have one of, if not the finest midfielder in Europe."

It moved again.

"We have Bruno."

"We have João."

"We have Rafa."

"Pedro."

"Nuno."

"Rúben."

"Every single one of you."

Then...

His eyes found Ronaldo again.

"And..."

"We have the greatest footballer this sport has ever produced, without a doubt for me and for billions of others!"

Martínez nodded as his words seemed to go through.

"Yes. He’s older," he said with a nod.

"But so what?"

He looked around the room again.

"A tiger that loses a few teeth..."

He paused deliberately, "...doesn’t stop being a tiger."

The room stayed completely still as Martínez lifted a hand toward Ronaldo.

"But then let me ask you," he said with a smile.

"Do any of you think this old tiger has lost his teeth?"

Several players smiled, but nobody answered.

They each replied in their respective ways.

Bruno looked down and chuckled.

Leão simply shook his head while Vitinha resolutely folded his arms, looking at Ronaldo with pride.

Ronaldo himself just lowered his gaze with a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Martínez nodded once.

"Exactly,"he said and stepped forward again.

"So from this moment onward..."

"There are no stars. No substitutes. No reserves."

"No assistants. No manager. No captain."

"We’re simply Portugal."

"If we win... We all win."

"If we lose... We all lose."

"The blame belongs to everyone, but so does the glory."

He looked around one last time.

"I’ve said everything I wanted to say," he said and put his hands together.

"What you do with those words..."

"...is entirely up to you."

Without another sentence, he stepped away, and for several seconds, the room remained quiet.

While he left, another figure replaced him.

Cristiano Ronaldo had finished pulling on his warm-up jacket.

He zipped it halfway before looking across the dressing room.

A moment later, a slow clap echoed through the room as Ronaldo smiled.

"I’ve played with many groups."

"Some good. Some incredible."

"And some unforgettable. I’m glad..."

"...my last World Cup is with all of you."

"Let’s make sure nobody forgets today."

The room answered with a collective murmur of agreement as Ronaldo gave one final nod before turning toward the exit.

"Vamonos."

He stepped through the doorway first, and the rest followed.