Work Text:
Dear manos,
I can't believe I'm writing a paper letter to you. We've been within touching distance of each other for so long, I don't know how to start? I'll admit that when I picked up the pen and paper to start this, I froze up.
Why write a letter? Why not send a text or email or even a fax?
We text every day, I know that. And we call each other at least every other day. We saw each other in person last weekend, at the wedding shenanigan that I almost strangled Marcinho about. You guys found it so funny. You always find stuff like this funny. You say that I'll look back on the incident and laugh, but I guess it'll take me a while to laugh as hard as you guys did.
They called me up to the national team. I know, I know, Edi's definitely more qualified. He won the UCL this summer, after all. But I love Selecao callups, even if I'm watching the matches from the bench. That's because at least one of you two were on the bench with me, and we'd joke and rib our teammates and the opposition and the ref. Oh, how we poked fun at the ref. It was hilarious.
But now I'm going by myself. Of course I'll know Edi and some of the other guys; but either I'll be in goal risking my national dignity, or warming the bench while sticking out like a sore thumb.
I know I don't fit in with the other guys. Case is big and scary and he intimidates the opponents. Marqui is small yet loud, Vini and Rodry are almost twins, and Gabi is just plain loud. Thiago prefers to stay quiet, but he radiates protection energy.
I'm an anomaly. I'm one of the tallest guys on the team, like Case, but then I'm quiet like Thiago. And instead of an aura of invincibility, I have the aura of a koala or a kicked kitten or a clingy baby. Unlike Vini or Rodry, I don't have my twin.
I'm writing this because if I told either of you, you'd cut me off midway and tell me how my sensitivity and gentle personality is something that should be cherished, not a problem. Yet I can't help but feel it is. Without you guys, I feel lost. I'm the fourth captain, one of the oldest members of the team, Marcinho's mentor, and I help teach the youth players' choir ever since Hendo left. So many people left, and now the rest of us are trying out things, figuring out where we belong. It's like we're all stuck in hurricanes, and we need rocks.
I know you asked Virgil to keep an eye on me, but he's captain, too. He's going through a lot of turbulence. He's snappish towards us all but he doesn't want to talk about what's bothering him at all, not even to Cody or I. I'm not sure about what Cody's going through, but Virgil's barely talked to me and it's been seven days. I thought it was just about the whole wedding shenanigans, but it's clearly more than that.
The boss is calling us now. We have a match in a quarter of an hour. We're playing Newcastle, owned by the same Saudis who stole you two from us.
If you noticed, I haven't used either of you two's names in the letter. That's because writing your names on a letter to be sent to Saudi Arabia will seal the deal. I'm not ready to deal with that.
I'm heading out now. Good luck, guys.
Muito amor (I know it sounds romantic but it's NOT SO),
Ali