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Defining who Dancing Rasta is wasn’t an easy thing to do.
If you asked Shakes, you’d probably hear Mokena praising the hell out of his captain, his beloved father figure. Johann Uber would call him a dick, king of the sass. André Meda would say he doesn’t know him really well. Riano respected him and Savich thought he’s a coward.
For Skarra, he was someone else. A kind of cool uncle with funky hair and a wild collection of baseball hats, and also knitted Rasta hats he refused to wear unless he went to the gala. He knew a lot of different books and he was able to recognize many different soundtracks from movies. But to define, who Dancing Rasta is was just impossible.
„Ya cool?” The older man asked him, and Skarra would shyly give him a nod. God, when had his childhood idol became so intimidating? Why was the IU player getting shy under his piercing gaze? „Hope ya enjoying the sunset.” Rasta says, giving him a smile. „Well, I don’t really know if I solved da problem.” The Strika said, scratching his chin.
If Shakes only knew. If Dingaan knew. He wasn’t really sure how about Vince, since he’s got a feeling both him and the IU captain would rip him apart. No one seemed to be mature enough to give him a valuable advice. That’s why he decided to reach out to the most awarded footballer on the globe.
„It’s okay if I didn’t, though.” The Jamaican give him a soft smile, that tastes a bit like sour yet so sweet lemon sorbet on a warm, sunny day. Comforting. Some people don’t like sorbets. He watches the older man breaking a chocolate bar in a half. „There ya go. Shakes told me dat is your favorite.”
Shakes is still talking about me to his captain?
If Skarra was the one asked that was asked to define the captain of Supa Strikas, he would be honest. Rasta was kind and polite, comforting; not quite as home, more like a journey back home after a long day by your usual route. The last rays of sunshine on a freckled skin. The cool uncle you can’t wait to talk to at the family’s party.