The Burnout Game

It started with a bad night's sleep.

Tobi tossed and turned for hours, his sheets tangled around his legs like restraints. A dream kept replaying — he was standing alone on the pitch, eyes fixed on the ball, with 50,000 people watching, waiting. But when he took the shot, his foot went through the ball like it was air. The crowd erupted — in laughter.

He woke up drenched in sweat, pulse thudding against his ribs.

The match against Rayo Vallecano was that afternoon. On paper, it shouldn't have been hard. They were bottom half of the table, and Valencia were at home. Coach Ramos had hinted at giving Tobi more minutes — maybe even a full start.

But something felt wrong.

At breakfast, his eggs were dry. The juice was sour. Leonor chatted about her training match that evening, but her voice barely registered.

His mother noticed.

"Headache?" she asked, watching him stir cereal he wasn't eating.

Tobi shook his head. "No. Just… heavy."