John loves running on the beach with his son Mikey in the early morning, especially on Friday, the day he dedicates to him.
John's mind was preoccupied with the upcoming match in just two days. Thinking about finding the right balance and formula, he would decide on something after running a few steps, only to cancel his decision and start thinking from scratch. It was very difficult. While John was drowning in his endless sea of thoughts, he heard:
"Dad, Dad! Your phone has been ringing for a while. Didn't you notice?"
John: "Alright, my son. I truly didn't notice it at all. Let's stop and see who is calling... It's Frank."
"Hello, Frank. How are you? Is everything okay?"
Frank: "Hi John, how are you? No, no, everything is excellent. Sorry for calling you this morning, but I hear the sound of the ocean waves, don't I?"
John: "Indeed, I am running with Mikey. Come join us; we are at the beach near the big café. Come, the weather is wonderful."
Frank: "To be honest, I haven't run in a very long time. I'd love to, but I can't. I called to tell you that a driver will be coming to your house a bit early today. We have an important appointment."
John: "You're the loser; the weather today is great. But tell me, what appointment are you talking about? I have no idea what's going on."
Frank: "Listen, be ready at eleven-thirty, which is about two hours from now. You have an appointment with a medical team."
A long time ago, John had forgotten to follow up on his health. He had surrendered; in fact, he felt his condition was stable—or rather, he just felt that way, or liked to feel that way. But the truth was much harder. Even though he tried to forget, the illness did not forget; it was becoming more difficult, to the point where even painkillers could no longer curb the pain when it intensified.
Silence. He thought and said nothing worth mentioning, but he decided to go to the doctor. Perhaps there was hope.
John and Mikey returned home. Maria had prepared breakfast for them. After showering, John said:
"Maria, there's something..."
Maria stopped eating and said, "Tell me quickly; you know I don't like surprises."
John: "Frank has arranged a medical team to oversee my treatment. The treating physician says there could be great hope. Medicine has advanced a lot, but honestly, a voice inside me says this is just a waste of time."
Maria stood up from her seat, walked behind John, placed her head against his, and said, "You know I was against the idea of returning to the pitch, and before that, I told you not to stop looking for a cure. But do you believe it, John? You have actually changed. I see a beautiful smile—even if it doesn't show, it's there on your face. Please, please go to this doctor. Maybe there is another way we haven't tried before."
John knew that, of course. Maria hadn't spoken to him for an entire week when he decided to stop treatment. He made his decision now and said:
"I will do this for you. I will go back to seeking treatment."
Her eyes teared up, and her heart rejoiced greatly, as if the place she feared for her husband's life and her small family was the same place that brought hope for a happy life back to a family that had always lived happily.
The driver was in front of the house. Maria handed John his medical files, and with a warm hug, she wished him hope anew.
He got into the car; Frank was there as well. Ten minutes later, John was standing in front of the clinic of a doctor named Richard, a neurologist.
John and Frank entered the office of the doctor, who was waiting for them along with two other doctors.
Richard: "Please, have a seat. You must be John. Welcome."
John and Frank sat down. John handed the doctor his medical files. The treating physician examined the files and told John, "I must perform some examinations in the examination room."
John entered the room with the doctors while Frank sat waiting. But the wait lasted a long time; the examination took more than an hour and a half. Frank was trapped in the waiting—in truth, out of fear for John, because he felt anxious that the matter might be more dangerous than expected.
After that period, the doctor came out, but contrary to what Frank expected, a smile was visible on the doctor's face.
Frank: "Please tell me, Richard, tell me something good, please."
Richard: "In fact, Frank, after reviewing these documents and tests, the matter seems concerning, frankly. But the examination was the opposite of what I expected. There is real hope for John to fully regain his health. Look, I explained it to him here; the injury was below the left ear, but the injury only revealed something more serious. There are four tumors: two neurological and two fibrous, as shown in the image before you. What matters is that all of this, frankly, doesn't matter. What I am focusing on is that his psychological state is excellent. I want to tell you that whatever you are doing now, do not stop doing it. This hope has raised your immunity significantly, and this will help us in the recovery journey."
John: "So is there hope, Doctor? Can it be treated?"
Richard: "You are the one who will decide this, John. There are cases more serious than yours—people we lost hope in treating, but whose desire for treatment was greater; they challenged the odds and succeeded in achieving a miracle. That's why I told you: continue doing what brings joy to your heart, and never stop thinking about hope. The journey of treatment starts with the hope of treatment. That is all there is to it. Today, I will send you the treatment program to your email. You can leave now. We will meet at the next session."
John left, and his joy doubled. He told Frank, "Listen, to the stadium now!"
Frank: "Man, the training session is at five o'clock. It's only two in the afternoon now."
John: "It doesn't matter. I need to make some adjustments while waiting for the players. Let's go, it's necessary."
John went to the stadium and rushed into the meeting room. There was the whiteboard; he wiped it, took the pen, and rewrote the plan he had explained to the players yesterday—the twenty-minute plan. But this time, he added a question in bold: What if the team fails to score in the first twenty minutes? And he added another question: What must be done so the team can score in those twenty minutes?
John's insistence on the first minutes of the match was very intense. He believed that the only way to come out of this extremely difficult match with a positive result lay in the secret, and the secret was just the twenty minutes.
But on the other side, Sar was speaking condescendingly, saying to the players: "During the five years I have spent coaching the RACING team, the city team has never achieved a single point. Have they? The answer is no, they haven't. Do you know why? Simply because we are the best. Our place is at the top, and their place is at the bottom. This is logic, and logic has always respected winning for the best, and we are the best. Listen carefully: this match is our most important match in the league this season. Let me ask you a simple question: would you waste the most important match of the season in your stadium, in front of your fans, and against whom? Against the weakest team in the league?"
The RACING players shouted loudly and in unison: "No, and a thousand times no!"
The motivation was high for each team's goal. So, a few hours separate us from the most important matches—on whom will the whistle blow in the end?