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World Cup is not a jealous trophy.
World Cup is a proud trophy. She is not even remotely humble, and who can blame her? Anyone in her place would be just as proud. Many wish they could be her. They pretend and fake it as much as they can, they have pride the size of mount Everest. Not that she cares; she is the most coveted trophy in the world and that puts her head and shoulders above all others. Whenever she steps into a room, has to bow. Because she is Her.
She comes around once in four years, and her stakes are incredibly high. Even getting an opportunity to appear on her stage is grueling and tasking enough, it is not for everyone.
So, yes. World Cup is not a jealous trophy.
Normally.
These days, things haven't been what one would consider normal. As proud as she is, World Cup finds herself envying Champions League. Not that she would ever admit it to anyone. Not even to save her life.
There's almost nothing to envy about him. He has an inflated sense of self worth, he comes around every year and a team could lose most of their games and still end up getting him!
Why, one might ask, would World Cup envy him? He has been with the wunderkind, Leo Messi.
World Cup wants Leo Messi, more than she has ever wanted anyone else. They are alike in many ways and she feels a kinship with him that she has never experienced with anyone else.
Of all the trophies, she is the only one left. Copa America and Finalissima have finally laid claim to Leo. They tell beautiful stories about him, but World Cup is tired of just hearing about him. She wants to experience it firsthand.
"This year, I'm going with Leo," Champions League muses, interrupting World Cup's thoughts. "I can feel it."
World Cup ignores him, refusing to give any importance to his words. He has had Messi four times and he never lets her forget it.
However, her son, the Adidas Golden Ball is curious enough to give him the attention he so desperately wants. "Did you develop psychic abilities on your way back from Madrid?"
Champions League sniggers. "It's World Cup year. After your mum jilts him once again, he will be more fired up and guess where he will channel all that fire? You guessed it, right?"
"Don't be so sure." Copa America warns him. "You do know the jinx is broken, don't you?"
"Spare me. Your win was a fluke; everyone knows that."
"Says you." Finalissima interjects, clearly regretting her words. Finalissima is a shy little trophy.
“I think it's more interesting how desperate you are that you're willing to go to Paris.” Ballon d'or laughs. “What happened to being the ‘most prestigious trophy’ title? Feel like slumming it in the trenches now?”
“That's a lot of talk for someone who needs me to get their favorite boy.”
“You forget yourself” Ballon d'or rolls his eyes. “I can't hear your four time victory over the sound of my seven.”
World Cup tunes out the sound of their debate. In all this, she only has herself to blame. She thought delaying Leo's victory was the best thing for him, and she was right. It kept his fire burning and his hunger alive. She feared he would drop his cleats and go live on some remote island where she would never get to experience his magic again, if she had let him have her in 2014.
But she fears she may have waited too long. Seeing him now at his new club, the reports that football brings, it hurts her heart. She has to fix it. This World Cup cannot pass without Leo getting his hands on her. He is more determined than ever to win, and she will reward his diligence.
She had given him her son as a reward for his hardwork in 2014, but it hadn't been enough. She had known it was she, herself, that Leo wanted, but had thought he would appreciate her son, at least a little bit.
"Do you really think PSG has what it takes to lay hold on you this season?" her son asks.
"Have you seen him this year? It doesn't matter if PSG has what it takes; as soon as his heart gets broken in the World Cup competition, he will drag them kicking and screaming to my podium if he has to."
"You mean like he did in 2019?" La Liga asks mockingly.
"Hey, that wasn't my fault," Champions League screeches angrily, the facade of arrogance finally falling off. "Don't blame me for not anticipating everything. He was flawless that season."
World Cup snickers. "That team was better, but you believe you can work miracles with this one."
He smirks. "I'll be here to remind you ‘I told you so’ when he's caressing me at the end of the season."
"Maybe if he had to wait till the end of the season to get me," she laughs . "You are about to witness in real-time how little Leo cares about you. Compared to me, you are nothing but a placeholder."
"Whatever you all do," Ballon d'Or says, speaking up for the first time that evening, "I want Leo this year. I have missed him."
“Please! You had him two years ago.” La Liga scoffs.
“And it's been too long.” Ballon d'or counters. “I want him now.”
World Cup smiles at Ballon d'Or as her son, the Adidas Golden Ball, cuddles closer. "Fear not. You will have him in the grandest possible event."
"What about me?" her son asks. "I want Leo. Can I have him too?"
"Baby, there will be no Ballon d'Or without you."
And she was right.
Two months later, the whole world watches on, as he receives her son with a proud, accomplished smile on his face.
"Come on, my love," she beckons him when it seems like he will walk past her. "We have waited long enough. Come to me."
And he does.
The crowd roars as he presses one kiss, two kisses on her, while cradling her baby on his arm.
Finally, she thinks. Having him is the most beautiful thing in the world!