[At that mont, I felt utterly dejected, even lost my appetite for lunch. Mom, it's a pity that your son is not a born genius. In soccer, I always seem to lag half a beat behind others, clumsy.]
[Sotis I even fantasize in my dreams how great it would be if I could swap souls with my teammate Tang.]
[I also long to be like him, the undisputed star on the field, winning fans' roaring cheers with countless spectacular goals and earning the genuine admiration of teammates.]
[But why can't I do it? I'm obviously a year older than Tang, yet the maturity he exhibits in his play seems ten years more seasoned than mine!]
[I have even fantasized about one day being able to guide him. "Tang, your positioning is wrong; you should run in the opposite direction!" "Your timing for the shot is poor!" "Didn't you see your teammate's positioning? You should have passed the ball earlier!"]
[Haha, just thinking about it makes feel like I'm daydreaming, utterly ridiculous. How could these scenes possibly co true?]
[Unfortunately, Mom, your son is probably never going to beco a player like Tang...]
Bonazzoli wrote down his thoughts, and the images of his fantasies appeared in his mind, making him unable to resist chuckling "hehe" under his breath.
He laughed so wholeheartedly that he completely failed to notice that Ranocchia had quietly stood behind him at so point.
"Hey, is the little student writing a diary, huh?" Ranocchia suddenly spoke up.
The unexpected voice startled him, causing his body to shudder abruptly. He reflexively snapped the diary shut with a "pop" and turned around in shock to face Ranocchia behind him.
"C-Captain, you...you haven't slept?" Bonazzoli stamred, his voice still tinged with lingering fright.
Usually, during training and matches, Ranocchia would use a headband to neatly fix his elegant long hair in place.
But now, wearing loose pajamas, his normally tied-up hair scattered loosely over his shoulders in the dim light of the desk lamp, making Bonazzoli briefly feel as if he were facing a ghostly figure erging from the dark~
"I was sleeping soundly," Ranocchia said, yawning, "but halfway through, I heard soone chuckling 'hehehehe' here, so I got woken up. Oh, what you've written is quite interesting, let take a look."
As he spoke, Ranocchia reached over to press the button by the desk that controlled the lighting for the whole room.
In an instant, the room beca brightly lit, the harsh light making Bonazzoli instinctively squint his eyes.
Ranocchia jokingly reached out to grab Bonazzoli's diary.
This diary was full of Bonazzoli's little secrets accumulated over the years, and he wouldn't let anyone see it. He quickly held the diary close, refusing to let go at all.
But Ranocchia stood at 1.95 ters tall, a whole 10 centiters taller than Bonazzoli.
In the end, he snatched the diary from Bonazzoli and held it up high, looking at it under the light.
He stood on tiptoe, and even though Bonazzoli stretched desperately to reach, he could only futilely grasp at the air, unable to touch the diary at all.
"Tsk tsk tsk, you really have so ideas," Ranocchia teased while reading the diary, "Tomorrow morning, I'll tell Tang that you're thinking about guiding him on shooting, positioning, and passing."
Bonazzoli blushed bright red, embarrassedly sitting in his chair, awkwardly scratching his head, and quickly explained, "Captain, I'm just scribbling for fun; how could I dare actually guide Tang? I have nothing but admiration for him."
"Captain, don't tease ; I dream of becoming as excellent a player as he is. Alas, but it's ultimately just an unattainable dream." Bonazzoli's voice carried a hint of disappointnt.
Hearing this, Ranocchia paused slightly, the smile on his face gradually fading as he nodded thoughtfully.
Then he gently returned the diary to Bonazzoli, patting his shoulder and taking a seat beside the desk as well.
"Federico, it's wrong to think like that," Ranocchia said earnestly, "You are you, and you will never beco Tang."
"I know, Captain," Bonazzoli said sadly, lowering his head, his voice full of self-doubt, "I wish I had half his talent. He's so strong, and as for , no matter whether it's at Inter or Manchester City, I always struggle to secure a spot in the starting lineup."
Ranocchia shook his head gently, looking at Bonazzoli with warmth in his eyes.
"No, Federico, you misunderstand my point."
"What I an is, in the world of soccer, every player is unique."
"Ronaldo once said Tang was his successor, but there's only one Ronaldo in the world. Likewise, you're fixated on becoming Tang, yet there is only one Bonazzoli in the world."
"I'm 9 years older than you. Back when I was young and had just switched from midfield to defender, my idol at the ti was Nesta."
Ranocchia reflected a bit, his tone slowing as he recalled.
"Day in and day out, I wished, dread of becoming a great Italian defender like him."
"Then when I first joined Inter, I yearned to be like Samuel or Córdoba, to build an impenetrable defense on the field and beco a team legend."
"But as ti went on, I gradually realized I would never beco Nesta. His judgnt on timing and predicting opponents' intentions in defense, that's an innate talent I couldn't learn."
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