The Greatest of all Time

Zachary dashed down the flight of stairs—and reached the lobby on the ground floor in no time. However, before he could open the door and move out of the building, he noticed a familiar shapely figure standing close to the mailbox on one side of the lobby. It was Kristin Stein, probably sorting through her mail. She took note of him as soon as he cast his gaze on her.

"Good morning, neighbor," she greeted, waving an arm at him. She emphasized the last word—neighbor.

"Good morning, Miss Kristin," Zachary returned the greeting, half-heartedly waving back at her.

"Why call me Miss?" Kristin raised an eyebrow. "The way you address me makes me seem like your boss." She pouted.

Zachary smiled, choosing to ignore her comment. "You have a lot of mail," he queried, pointing at the bulk of envelopes in her left hand.

"These are academic documents from my former school," Kristin replied, the corners of her mouth twisting into a smile. "I\'ll be using them to apply for university in the coming week."

She creased a brow like she was trying to recall something. "That reminds me. You must have already completed your upper secondary education. Won\'t you be applying for university soon? The deadline is almost coming up in mid-April." She pressed, locking eyes with Zachary.

"Nope," Zachary replied, gently shaking his head. "I\'ll be dedicating this year to my football career. I\'m swamped with a busy training schedule already. I can\'t spare any time for anything else. I\'ll only apply for university education after my career has taken off." He added, sounding slightly defensive. He didn\'t wish to be perceived by Kristin as someone who didn\'t like school.

What he didn\'t mention, though, was that he probably wouldn\'t be in Norway for three years. That was the minimum period required to complete a bachelor\'s course. So, he was better off waiting until settling down somewhere he would be sure to spend a long time. Only then would he comfortably apply for university education.

"Oh," Kristin said, nodding as if she understood his worries. "But you could think about taking short language courses in the meantime. As a football player, you\'ll need to learn a few international languages. That\'s if you intend to join teams in non-English or non-French-speaking countries. There are German, Spanish, and Italian courses at NTNU. You could think about taking one of them starting from the next semester." She suggested.

"I\'ll think about it," Zachary replied perfunctorily. He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was already six minutes past eight. The bus would be leaving in only four minutes. "I have to rush to Lerkendal for training now. Let\'s catch up some other time." Zachary intoned.

"Okay, okay." Kristin smiled, giving him a teasing look. "Run along to your training, Mr. Superstar. But don\'t forget that you promised you would get us to the Europa League quarterfinals. I\'ll be rooting for you—as your top fan, of course." She said, shooing him away with her hand.

Zachary smiled wryly, finding himself at a loss for words. He hadn\'t promised to help Rosenborg reach the quarterfinals of the Europa League. To the best of his knowledge, they hadn\'t concluded that conversation. But he didn\'t try to dispute Kristin\'s slip-up. That would take more of his already limited time and delay his departure for Lerkendal. If he missed the next bus, he would have to wait 20 minutes for another one to depart from Stj?rdalsveien—his apartment\'s location. So, he said his goodbyes to Kristin and rushed out of the building like the wind.

He slowed down when he reached the street to prevent himself from slipping on the partially frozen ground. He cast a cursory glance above and noticed that the morning had brought strings of white stratus to contrast against the blue sky. They drifted lazily in the breeze without destination or purpose. The good news was that there was no sign of any grey mixed in them, meaning there probably wouldn\'t be any precipitation that day.

Zachary was glad that he didn\'t have to train in rainy weather. He tightened his scarf around his neck and tossed his Nike Brasilia gym-bag over his shoulder—and continued jogging towards the bus stop. In only a couple of minutes, he arrived as an ATB light green bus pulled up before a group of passengers standing haphazardly in front of the bus-stop-shade.

Zachary first glanced at the Digital Information Display Unit in the shade to double-check whether the bus would travel via Lerkendal before following the others into the vehicle. He swiped his bus-card on the automatic fare collection machine at the door and then found himself a seat next to a window. He then placed his gym-bag on his lap and pulled on his headphones as the bus started moving.

As it sped across the well-maintained streets of Trondheim, he immersed his mind into listening to some Enya-music and watching the buildings flash by. For him, there was something about listening to the beautiful tunes and melodies that soothed him to his soul. He let his head sway gently with the beat, and slowly, he allowed the music to infuse his mind.

He felt happy and free.

He was finally beginning his journey as a professional footballer in one of the top Norwegian clubs. There was a pleasure like none he\'d felt before in knowing that he was about to achieve his previous life\'s dream of playing in Europe. Zachary leaned back into the bus seat and let the happiness soak right into his bones.

Twenty minutes later, the bus pulled into the allocated parking at the bus stop of Lerkendal. Zachary picked up his gym bag and exited the bus along with a few other passengers. Since he only had about half an hour before the training, he began hurrying towards the stadium right away. He wanted to pick his training gear first from the logistics department before joining the rest of the players in one of the training pitches within Lerkendal Idrettspark.

However, just as he\'d taken a few steps away from the bus station, he heard someone calling out to him. He took off his headphones and turned back only to notice that another Rosenborg player had been walking behind him all along.

Zachary had seen him before on one or two of the Rosenborg training sessions he\'d previously attended. He had typical Caucasian features with a straight but slightly upturned nose and thin lips. His dark-brown hair fashioned into a style similar to a lighter version of the funky Mohawk gave him an air of playfulness that radiated about his persona.

"Hello," the other person said. "I\'m Nicki Nielsen. I just transferred to this club last January. You seem to be also a player here." He extended a hand for a greeting. "Nice to meet you," he added, smiling.

"Nice to meet you, too," Zachary replied, shaking his hand. "I\'m Zachary Bemba. I have also just joined the club only three days ago, to be specific. I\'m just fresh from the academy." He couldn\'t help but take note of a few tattoos on the fingers of Nicki Nielson. Zachary couldn\'t help but wonder why he\'d also used the crowded bus instead of his car since he seemed like a person with style and a swagger.

"Oh, so you\'re an academy graduate," Nicki said, grinning. The two began to walk together towards the gates of the stadium. "It seems like I saw you during some of the training sessions in February. How come you have just joined the club?"

"Well," Zachary said, trying to sort out what kind of information he should disclose to a new teammate. "The negotiations for my contract took longer than expected. However, I was still allowed to train with the club before sealing the deal since I graduated from the local academy."

"I guess congratulations are in order then," Nicki said, laughing. "How old are you, by the way?"

"Eighteen," Zachary replied succinctly.

"Oh, my!" Nicki exclaimed, inclining his head slightly and examining him. "You\'re just eighteen. Then you must be very talented to be joining the senior club at such a young age."

"I try," Zachary replied as they entered the tunnels heading to locker rooms. "So, which club were you from before joining Rosenborg?" He inquired, wishing to change the topic.

"Villarreal," Nicki responded.

Zachary could have sworn that he detected a hint of annoyance in his tone. So, he skillfully changed the topic once again. "And which number do you play?"

"Striking," Nicki replied, grinning. "I\'m a number nine in both body and soul. What about you?"

"Midfield," Zachary responded, a soft smile outlining his face. "Central midfielder, to be specific," he emphasized.

"Hahaha," Nicki laughed heartily, placing an arm around Zachary\'s shoulder. "It\'s a good thing that we don\'t have to compete for similar numbers. So, we can \'really\' become good friends."

"I think so too," Zachary nodded, glancing at his watch. It was already 8:40 AM. "But, can we talk later on the pitch? At the moment, I have to first head to logistics to pick up some supplies for this month. If I don\'t leave now, I\'ll surely be late for training."

"Okay, see you later, man," Nicki said, removing his arm from Zachary\'s shoulder. "But better hurry. The coaches usually arrive ten minutes before the start of the training."

"Okay," Zachary replied. "I\'ll be at the pitch in 10 minutes. See you there." He waved before rushing towards the logistics department.

Three minutes later, Zachary picked up his supplies comprising a set of training jerseys, boots, shin guards, ankle guards, and several ointments from logistics. He hurried to his locker and stored the supplies before dressing up and heading to the training pitch. He was finally ready for his first training session as a Rosenborg player.