I Guess I Just Don't Get It

Finally, it was the day of the biggest game of my life. We were all on the bus, headed to the stadium, mostly quiet. I had my iPod blasting Rock music through my Dr. Dre headphones as I looked out the window, trying to get in my game zone. I was still livid about del Bosque's comment during the Germany game, but had set my mind on not letting it affect my game today, should I play. I wanted more than anything to prove not only to del Bosque and the whole team, but all of Spain, that I was good enough and worthy to be on the Men's National Team. That, and now that my dad couldn't watch us at home, I wanted him to have the best view in the world to watch Spain win the World Cup for the first time ever.
I looked up when I felt a tap on my shoulder, and realized that we had arrived. I grabbed my soccer bag and followed the guys into the stadium, quiet as ever. That's definitely one of the biggest advantages to playing on a professional team with guys: they don't feel the need to talk for no reason and to go on forever. They also know better when to shut up and get your head in the game, for which I was very thankful. I didn't think I could make myself converse with anyone right then.
We went straight to the locker room and changed into our warm up kits, then headed out onto the field to get moving. We began with a few laps around the field, stretching, and then sprints. Getting back into a routine really helped me concentrate more on the game than on what Coach said, which was really good. I ended up having the best warm up I'd had since I'd begun training with the Spanish Team, although I doubted del Bosque noticed, not that he'd start me, anyway.
Within two hours it was time to head out to the field; Coach had been talking for what seemed like forever about tactics and 'playing our game' and such. All coaches sound the same after a while, no matter what any of them say, really. We all changed into our navy uniforms and the starters lined up in the tunnel, greeting the little kids as they were lined up next to the each of them. Those of us starting on the bench found our way out through another door, emerging out onto the field, where the roar of the crowd added to the Vuvuzelas was deafening. I couldn't help but grin ear to ear, seeing the excited crowd wearing the colors of their country.
We all sang along to the Spanish national anthem, then waited for the Netherlands' to be played, before heading to the benches to get the game started. After giving Sergio a quick hug and kiss, I took my usual spot between Jesus and Fernando. Finally, the game had started.

I groaned at yet another barely missed shot along with the guys on the bench and the Spanish fans when the whistle blew and the guys on the field ran over to the sidelines to get some water and instructions from the coaches. As they were handed water, the players on the bench encouraged them as much as we could. The coaches barely had enough time to give out all the instructions they wanted when the referee blew the whistle again for overtime to start. I gave Sergio another kiss, probably not helping my reputation with the female fans, but whatever helps to get the win, I'll take.
It was about five minutes into overtime when I heard my name called. My head snapped over to del Bosque, who was motioning for me to go to him. I jogged over and he said, "You're going in for Iniesta. You had better prove to me you deserve to be out there, cause I haven't seen it yet. Do dynamics to the corner and back three times, then get in there."
I nodded and threw my jacket to the bench as I passed, returning their looks of confusion. I couldn't blame them for kind of resenting the fact that I was going in and they weren't, so I knew I really did have to prove I should be going in and not them. I sped through my dynamics in record time and even did a few extra sprints before jogging to the midfield line and telling the fourth official that I was going in for Andres, which I was still confused about, but I'd take anything to get into the game. Holland finally kicked the ball out and the referee waved me on, which I did after high fiving Andres. I was met with a mixed reception, mostly cheers, however, although boos from part of the stadium were clearly audible, but I tried not to let it get to me.
I did my best to get the ball moving and get shots off for the next ten minutes, but nothing really seemed to work against the incredibly talented Netherlands defenders and goalkeeper.
Until the 116th minutes. When my life changed forever.
Fernando, who came in soon after I did, had the ball over on the left side of the field, and kicked a long ball towards me, but only made it to Cesc and, even though there were three defenders between us, managed to get it to me. I let it go across my body, and placed it.
In the back of the net.
It wasn't until I felt the weight of the Spanish team on my back that I realized what I did. Finally they get off, allowing me to breathe, and I screamed and realized I was crying, along with a few others. Somehow we managed to find our way back to our side of the field and continue the game until overtime was called, which was when everyone really started crying and freaking out. Trust me, you don't realize how many people are on your team until they're all dog-piling you. Which is not enjoyable. I managed to get them off so we could shake the other team's hands. I found myself in front of Robben, the Netherlands' captain, who I hugged. "I'm sorry it ended like that," I said. "If there was any way both teams could have won, I would have picked that."
He only nodded and gave me a small smile. "Sometimes, things just don't turn out how you want them. But the best team won, and that's that."
We hugged again before separating to talk to other people, and when I stood there alone, watching all the other guys talk, I saw Iker, and the fact that he was pretty much bawling his eyes out. I slowly walked over to him, thanking everyone who congratulated me, and when I arrived at his side I hugged him. "So how's it feel to be the captain of the first Spanish team ever to win the World Cup?"
He only shook his head, saying there were no words. I laughed and lightly hit his back before going to find Sergio. I tapped his back and as soon as he realized it was me, he was spinning me around with the biggest smile on his face I'd ever seen.
"Sergio, you're gonna make me puke, ya jerk."
He only laughed some more and took my hand before telling me not to move from that spot. I raised and eyebrow, but agreed, while he ran off somewhere and reappeared a few moments later. As I watched him jog back over to me I vaguely noticed people watching us closely, but decided not to pay attention to it. That is, until I realized what Sergio was doing. He was kneeling down. On one knee.
"Sergio-"
"Camry Fiacco. The past year of knowing you has been the best year of my life. And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my years with you. Will you marry me?" He looked into my eyes hopefully, holding out the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen.
I started crying all over again and nodded, allowing him to place the ring on my finger and kiss me, as I heard the team and most of the stadium fill with cheers. He took my hand and led me to the locker room, where we were supposed to change into our home jerseys to meet the Queen of Spain and receive the trophy.
While we waited for the Queen to arrive, I talked with some of the WAGs, mostly about getting married and my ring, while Sergio talked to the guys on my other side. Every so often I would hear bits of their conversation, like the guys jokingly trying to convince Sergio that getting married is really, really bad idea. This, of course, would be before they got play slapped by their respective wives.
Soon, the Queen arrived, and everyone stood up and greeted her. She smiled and started going around the room, learning everyone's name and shaking their hand. When she came to me, she smiled even wider. "Goal scoring World Champion and a bride to be all in the same day? Your heart must be about to explode. Congratulations, you are such an inspiration."
With that, she shook my hand and moved on to Xabi, who was on my other side. I glanced, bewildered, at Sergio, shocked at the fact that the Queen of Spain had just called me an inspiration.
After the formalities with the Queen had been covered, we began celebrating and taking pictures some more, and I realized who else had come to visit. Rafael Nadal. I gripped Sergio's hand and said, "Sergio. Look. Rafael Nadal!"
He only laughed and pulled me over there. "Rafa!" They did their little handshake thing before Sergio motioned to me. "This is my fiancé," he smiled at the word, "Camry Fiacco."
I smiled and shook his hand. "It's so great to meet you."
"It's great to meet you," Rafa replied. "Sergio's told me so much about you."
"Oh, goodness. I don't even want to know what," we laughed.
"Camry!" I heard someone call my name behind me. I turned to see it was del Bosque, so I excused myself from Rafa and Sergio and walked over to del Bosque.
"See Camry, I knew you had it in you," he smiled, for what seemed like the first time ever. "You know what I said during the Germany game was a complete lie, right? I was only trying to get under your skin so you'd be even better in this game."
I smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I know. It seemed to work, regardless, so it doesn't really matter."
"Of course not, but I just wanted you to know. Now, it's time for us to go get our trophy, let's go boys!" He yelled the last part, and I returned to Sergio and walked out with him to the field, where we accepted our medals and trophy for being los Campeones del Mundo, the World Cup Champions.