Spark from the Forgotten Village

John lay in bed, but he couldn't fall asleep. His thoughts were spinning in his head—fast and restless. He closed his eyes, but his heart kept pounding as if the game had just ended. Dani Veskov, Germon, the distant village... everything was tangled together.For a moment, he sat up, looked at the poster hanging on the wall. Dani's smile seemed so distant now—unreachable. John took a deep breath."Will I ever catch up to him?"Suddenly, he remembered Oliver's words.

"Brother... you're not following in anyone's footsteps, but creating your own."That brought him some peace. He lay back down, wiped the tear from the corner of his eye, and whispered,

"I'll find my way... no matter what."That night, he dreamed of standing on a huge stadium field, side by side with Oliver, in front of thousands of spectators. Everyone had come—his coach, his mom, his dad, all the friends… And in the middle of the field stood Dani Veskov, smiling at him and saying,

"You're here, John, because this is where you belong."When he woke up the next morning, for a moment he felt strong, like after a game. But then he remembered the conversation with his mom and dad. A heaviness fell on his heart. He quietly went downstairs, but determined.

"Good morning, mom, dad."His mom smiled, trying to hide her worry.

"Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?"

"Good. But... I really want to go, you know. But if it's not possible, I'll understand. I just... I'll never stop trying."His dad looked at him—long and serious.

"John, when a person is driven by their dream, they've already crossed half the distance."John smiled—light, but full of strength. He took his old, slightly worn-out ball and went outside. The air was still fresh, and the sun had just risen. He started kicking the ball—slowly, but focused. With every kick, there was a determination—not just to catch up to Dani, but to never forget who he is.Meanwhile, his mom was watching him from the kitchen window, wiping a tear with one hand, holding the pot lid with the other.

"He's different... our John."John spent the whole day on the field. The goals were old, the net was torn in several places, but it didn't stop him. He continued his solo training. After every kick, he ran, stood in the goal, kicked the ball far, ran again, and "attacked himself." He imagined that the game was at a crucial moment, and Dani Veskov was advancing with the ball.

"The last kick... You have to stop it, John... You have to save it." He muttered breathlessly.He sprinted, stretched with all his might, and reached for the ball that had hit the reshaped goalpost. He fell to the ground—muddy and dusty—but he was smiling.And just then, a man approached from afar, carrying a camera on his shoulder and a notebook in his hand.

"Are you John?" he smiled kindly.John got up, tapped his chest to shake off the dust from his clothes.

"Yes... who are you?"

"I'm a journalist. From the 'Young Talents' program. Your coach, the mayor, and some villagers recommended you. They said you never leave the field."John hesitated for a moment but then smiled.

"Do you want to take a picture of how I catch balls?"

"We want to understand why you're so passionate. Why do you want to play? Why train so hard?"John was silent for a moment. Then he looked at the horizon, where, according to his dream, one day he would stand on Germon's stadium.

"Because it's not just my dream... It's the dream of all of us. Mine, Ollie's, our village's, my family's... I want to show that even from a distant, forgotten place, a spark can rise that never fades."The journalist paused for a moment.

"I've recorded this. And this needs to be seen by the whole country."John walked back to the goal.

"Take the picture," he said, standing in the center, arms wide open.

"Everyone needs to see what real goalkeepers are like."