I was unsure if I had the courage to break his mother’s death to him and if this was a good idea. A famous and fierce voice greeted me and left me guessing…it was Danilo Mendes was on the phone…
“Hello” I said in a shivering tone.
“I am sorry sir, Santo had an accident. I request you to come here immediately.”
I stood there in daze and couldn’t hold the phone as it was heavier than my heart and let it slip through. Down on my knees, my body felt paralyzed and I could not speak.
Soon, I landed in Madrid, which seemed a hostile place like never before. It was snowing and the sky was as black as a skillet. Tears froze in my eyes as I gathered strength and wished he’d be okay. I took a taxi to the hospital where he was admitted and hurried through the media and fans with a stick that no longer bore my burden and started to crack. Danilo was there and he spoke to me about how all this happened.
His Porsche did hit the 200 mph mark Santo bragged about. Police reported that it was a very close call and just an inch away from the truck, he would be speeding elsewhere at this moment. Just an inch was all it took to set the pendulum of life and death swinging. I glanced at him through the window and collapsed on the floor unable to bear the sight. He was covered in thick white bandages that were soaked in blood. Danilo picked me up and guided me to the lounge and brought me a cup of coffee. I sat near the lofty glass panel that painted a picture of the sullen and gloomy Madrid and my thoughts and fears grew worse as time passed. I asked Danilo why he did not keep his promise. His shoulders dropped down in shame and both of us knew we failed each other as he put his arm around me and told things shall pass.
There was Larcruff, that immature and insolent individual whose experience proved worthless in handling a gifted, young player. He is also to blame for all this consternation. Suddenly, everything around started falling apart and into a wild conflagration that melted my world down as Alberdo, who could barely pull himself to my place, sat by me and said…
“I spoke to the doctor. Chances are less. I’m sorry.”
I had no words to speak. I never spoke when it mattered. It doesn’t matter now. All I want him to know is that I’m sorry and he’d soon meet his mother. I wished for one last chance. I stared at the cameras and reporters waiting to get a word on Santo. There were fans that held posters and placards in support of him. Then there were his sponsors who were shooting questions at Danilo and worried about their investments. Nothing went through my mind but the last chance I wanted…the last chance to show myself I am not a wicked man…..the last chance to say “Son, everything will be fine!”…