Chapter Text
Even just as he walks in, the large room feels hot, overcrowded, loud but also suffocating. Unai moves over to his designated seat between Xavi and Sergio and pulls it out before setting himself carefully down onto it. The presser hasn’t even started yet and he feels the throbbing pain start at the base of his skull. Usually he can say that he doesn’t mind the media since the interviews are mostly after the match and it’s not always this... packed. There are so many eyes, most of them staring right at him as if they’re looking through his flesh and into his soul. It scares him because reporters have the uncanny ability to draw out a player’s insecurities. They’re like real life equivalents of Dementors. He can at least say he’s gotten somewhat competent at handling them to a point; that point being questions about his slip ups. Seriously, bring that up and he’s going into lockdown like a bank vault.
His eyes wander to his left. Xavi Hernandez, his new coach is sitting cross-armed and staring daggers at each individual before him. How one person so nice can look so stern is unsettling to say the least. Unai feels that with Xavi’s glare on them like that, maybe then the press will be less inclined to ask dumb questions. It’s a hope, but daggers don’t usually pierce the rock covering these people brains.
The press conference room starts filling up even more, the translator is on standby, and the club PR rep is already leveling those seated at the table with a hard look. To his left, the captain of the team takes the seat next to him, offering him a reassuring smile. Of course he knows Busquets, he played under his leadership at the World Cup and knows he what kind of person he is. Returning the quick greeting, Unai turns back to the crowd and reaches for his water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip as the bustle slowly quiets. He wishes it were a cup of coffee or something stronger, even though he’s not really allowed anything like that on his diet plan.
“Alright can we have quiet please,” someone, a man says and Unai surmises he must be someone important, probably another of Barclona’s PR team because the usually lawless journalists immediately start quieting down. “Let’s start with Jamie from SkySports.”
“Thank you. Good afternoon Unai.”
“Hola,” he says with a tame smile.
“Can I start by asking you: how is life in Barcelona? How are you adapting to life in a new city?”
So they're starting off with the easy questions first? Maybe they like to play with their prey which is very unlike vultures. Unai won't dignify them by calling them hawks or eagles.
"I've only ever been to Barcelona when I was with Athletic so it's still pretty much a foreign place to me. I haven't been here long enough to adapt either but I think once I get a place and the rest of my things here it will make the process a bit easier."
“How many conversations did you have with Xavi and how important was he in selling Barcelona as a team to you?”
Unai has to pause a moment and thinks about this. “Playing for Bilboa, everything was good for me there, so it was important for me to come to a team where I can have a vision that fits to my style of football. Barcelona has that fast paced style of football that I love. Every match of theirs is like one on the world stage.”
“Thank you Jamie,” the man from earlier says. “Next up we have Marco from Forza."
“Hello. My question is for Xavi. What qualities convinced you that Unai is the ideal replacement for Marc Andre?”
Xavi inhales and leans forward on the table. “The answer is pretty easy. It was obvious because he's a good player and the package is really interesting. The potential he and quality he showed in Bilbao and the national team were definite highlights. He’s a very interesting player and that's why we wanted to get him in. And I’m really happy we could do it.”
“Did you have Sergio have a word with Unai?”
“Yeah, before he technically signed, yeah, but uh... Sergio was involved from a specific moment. We didn't tell him talk to him because there was no reason for it since I was allowed to speak to him. They played together for the national team so they are familiar with each other. When you are a manager and you think you have to convince someone but you realize the door is wide open so we didn't actually need Sergio but he likes to be involved.”
That's an understatement. He remembers all the Watsapps, the articles and the phone calls from the older male. If the team's interest hadn't been apparent before, it was then.
Unai hears his name spoken in question and jerks from his reverie, searching the crowd for the speaker and eventually his eyes land on a man with a head the shape of a potato and a mole the size of Asia. He hates him already.
“Riqui Muniez, Vigo Sport,” the man says and Unai catches himself from rolling his eyes. “How do you think you will measure up against ter Stegen’s renowned skill and the loyalty he’s built up in all the years he’s played at Barcelona?”
The PR rep pulls something out of their bag that looks suspiciously like a rosary and Unai suddenly feels the need to ask if he can borrow it and before you ask, no, it's not so he can strangle the man with it.
It’s going to be long day.
*
“You did a good job there, Unaimi,” Busquets pats him on the shoulder. “You kept your cool and powered through. I’m sure by now you’ve realized that the press in Barcelona are whole other breed.”
Unai hums in agreement. “I haven’t even stood between the poles yet and they’ve made up their minds that I’m not good enough.”
“Don’t let that Riqui guy get into your head. You are a world-class player with so much potential, talent, and passion for this sport, and you will undoubtedly do and achieve incredible things in Barcelona if you keep up the hard work and dedication.
While the older male’s words were comforting, probably in the best way possible at that moment as they managed to erase the creeping feeling at the back of his head, they still weren't comforting enough to overshadow the deeply rooted grievance and freshly planted seeds of self-doubt in Unai.
“And on the bright side,” Sergio’s voice cuts through his self-deprecation. “At least that’s the last time you have to deal with them for today. All you have to do now is take a few pictures and you’re home free! How own guys are going to take care of all of that, so none of the press are going to be there,” Sergi continues.
The goalkeeper brings absently runs his froefinger and his middlefinger over the tracksuit’s Barca emblem sitting over his heart. “Sounds good,” Unai says as he follows his future captain through to the exit.