Shadow

At Corporal, during a talk with the young wrestlers. Then it was Coach Rodrigo, Mr. Costa and I. I felt something weighing down on me in that room. The heat is on and it’s only the Regional. And the team didn’t even know if they were going to live up to the Regional. It’s a long way, I think.
“I think I don’t need to remind you”, Mr. Costa spoke in a calculated way that even sounded rehearsed to me, “of the importance of a regional prize. For the first time, if we make it to the end, we’ll be rewarded for all the work we have done with our first collective prize. Then we’ll even be able to dream of a good rank in the State Tournament. And more.”
“You think we could make it to the end in the State level?”, asked Galhardo, surprised.
“I suppose so”, he said directly, “you’ve got the potential for it and I mean you five. Zangrandi has improved so much I hardly recognize his style. Figueira has started to fight the good fight. The fight that brought Galhardo, Zangrandi and the Column to this association. Until the Column went to live in São Paulo and wrestle for an association there. But this is another story.”
Figueira followed him with the eye, listening to every word in absolute silence as the others. He didn’t even move as Mr. Costa went on.
“I don’t see that you should make fun of him”, he said in a paused tone, “Figueira has called so many into action that he himself forgot to take action. I told Miss Grisam about that, that compassion would destroy him, take him to the pitfall of self-pity from which he would never rise again. And we know, by the very nature of it how heavily it can plague the soul of a fighter. He needs the encouragement to do what he has to do. Winning or losing, do the the best of his soul at that battlefield.”
Morales raised his hand.
“Not at the Regional, but at the State, the Column will be there waiting; I’m not afraid of him and neither is Galhardo, but what about Figueira?”
“Hey, don’t judge”, I said almost immediately, “this is not a trial.”
“Have I ever been afraid of him?”, barked Figueira, “just tell me when!”
Not even Morales expected the wall of bullets back on him. Didn’t know what to say and ended up exploding, “well you lost most of them fights to him after you became a Good Samaritan losing even to those little kids you could have swallowed alive. No, you are not afraid of him, Figueira; only you haven’t beaten him anymore. Mistake number 1, you created him. Mistake number 2, you let him grow too much.”
Figueira was silent, trying to wish away the strength of the statistics of his meets with the Column and once more the ambient hung heavy upon us, leaden blanket of all that was left undone. Mr. Costa didn’t say a word. Galhardo, Panotti, Rodrigo and Zangrandi were as silent as him. Morales mumbled something as “what good?” and shut up for the rest of the meeting.

Dinner | Disturbed

Radio Universal: The Making Of A Thousand Gods.