Severe pain.
It felt like every bone in my body was being crushed inch by inch and then brutally reassembled.
Then came a tsunami of fragmented memories, crashing into his mind and nearly tearing his consciousness apart.Scene after scene, match after match, countless cheers and curses, the ecstasy of victory and the bitterness of defeat.finally settling on 2024, the powerless and aged body on the hospital bed and the deep regret of unfulfilled ambitions.
He suddenly opened his eyes, and the blinding sunlight made him squint instinctively.
Instead of the cold ceiling of a hospital, what greeted the eye was a slightly cluttered room brimming with youthful energy.Several football posters adorned the walls, game discs and music CDs were scattered on the table, and a faint scent of cologne filled the air.
No, this isn't his room at all.
He struggled to sit up and looked down at his hands.
Long, strong, with healthy, youthful skin, and the prominent veins on the back of his hands exuding vitality.These were not his usual hands, covered in calluses and scars.
He stumbled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
The next second, he was struck dumb, frozen in place.
In the mirror was a youthful and handsome face, even with a touch of childishness.Slightly messy curly hair, slightly chubby cheeks, and those eyes he had seen countless times on television and in newspapers, now filled with confusion and horror.
Cristiano Ronaldo?
Cristiano Ronaldo at eighteen years old?
He gripped the sink tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.The boy in the mirror did the same, his face filled with disbelief and terror.
"This is impossible…" he muttered to himself, speaking in heavily accented Portuguese from Madeira.
After a brief moment of extreme shock, two life memories became inextricably intertwined and merged.He was the random retired player (or rather, the veteran football data analyst) who closed his eyes in 2024 with endless regrets, and he was also Cristiano Ronaldo, the football genius who had just transferred to Premier League giants Manchester United for a record-breaking £12.24 million in the summer transfer window of 2003.
He was reborn.He became the man who would one day stand at the pinnacle of the world, and who would also endure countless controversies and trials.
My chaotic thoughts were interrupted by a series of urgent knocks on the door.
"Cristiano!Time to go!It's the first day of group training, you can't be late!" It was the voice of agent Mendes, young and full of energy.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.He looked at the boy in the mirror, and the confusion and fear in his eyes receded like the tide, replaced by a worldly-wise composure and a.almost insane ambition.
"Cristiano…" he murmured the name, a strange smile slowly curving his lips."No, now, this is me."
"Okay, Jorge!I'm coming!" he called out, his voice regaining its "proper" energy.
Carrington Training Base.
Even with the memories of a young Cristiano Ronaldo woven into his own, Leon (for ease of narration, the protagonist will still be referred to as Ronaldo below) still felt an indescribable emotion when he saw this field where countless legends would shed their sweat in the future.Manchester United, Sir Alex Ferguson's empire, the starting point of his legend.
The atmosphere in the locker room was subtle and complex.
Keane, Giggs, Scholes, Gary Neville… these legends, once only seen on videotapes and in the news, now stood alive before him.Their gazes were scrutinizing, filled with curiosity, indifference, and a hint of barely perceptible contempt.A rich kid from the Portuguese countryside, rumored to only know how to do fancy tricks?
"Hey lad, welcome to Manchester United." Captain Roy Keane's voice was stiff and cold, just a formality.
"Thank you, Captain," Cristiano Ronaldo replied in accented English, neither humble nor arrogant, showing none of the nervousness one would expect from someone his age.This unusual composure caused Ryan Giggs, standing beside him, to raise an eyebrow slightly.
Training has begun.
Warm-up, passing and receiving, group scrimmage.
The moment the ball rolled to his feet, a profound sense of familiarity washed over him.This body, though still somewhat slender, possessed explosive power, flexibility, and ball control that were nothing short of phenomenal—far surpassing the professional level of his previous life, achieved only through arduous training!
However, problems also arose.
His thinking was ahead of his time.He saw the opening and conceived the most logical and lethal passing lane.However, his young body's muscle memory leaned more towards dribbling and showing off.In a simple one-two pass, he instinctively wanted to pass the ball with one foot, but his body involuntarily twisted the ball a little too far.Although he managed to get past his opponent with his superior individual skill, he missed the best passing opportunity.
"Pass the ball!Kid!Over here!" Gary Neville yelled from the right wing, his tone already showing some impatience.
Cristiano Ronaldo frowned but ignored it.The next time he received the ball, he faced the experienced left-back Phil ,through his mind, but his body instinctively kicked into a stepover.
One, two, three.
The moves were flashy and highly entertaining, drawing quiet cheers from some staff members on the sidelines.However, Phil Neville's experienced positioning prevented the creation of any truly spacious area.
"Fancy and flashy!" the assistant coach muttered under his breath on the sidelines.
Manager Sir Alex Ferguson chewed gum, his face expressionless, his gaze unreadable.
Finally, after he was double-teamed and stubbornly tried to break through but was ultimately dispossessed, captain Keane's furious roar echoed across the training field: "Damn it!Pass the ball out!Do you think this is a makeela basketball court?"
training ground Silence fell instantly.All eyes were fixed on the curly-haired boy.
If it were the real 18-year-old CristianoRonaldo, he might feel wronged and angry at this moment, and he might be even more stubborn in trying to prove himself with his dribbling skills.
But at that moment, Ronaldo simply took a deep breath.He raised his head, looked calmly at the furious Keane, and without arguing, simply said, "I understand, captain."
This excessive calmness surprised Keane for a moment.
The competition continues.
The opportunity will come ten minutes later.
In a midfield scramble, Scholes delivered his signature precise long pass to the right flank.Ronaldo, anticipating the pass, started his run ahead.The ball sailed over the defender's head and landed in the open space in front of him.
This is a 50/50 chance.The opposing left-back is chasing back at full speed, running alongside him.
In the past, Ronaldo might have tried to use his speed to overpower opponents, or perform a series of stepovers to find a change in rhythm.
But at this moment, his mind was incredibly clear.He clearly "saw" the opposing goalkeeper positioned slightly forward, saw that his teammates flanking from the middle had not yet arrived, and also saw the simplest and most efficient path that existed in his future memories.
He didn't stop the ball.
Just as the ball was about to hit the ground, and everyone thought he would control it before the defender could block him, he turned his body slightly to the side with perfect coordination, swung his right leg, and slammed the ball with the outside of his foot to meet the falling ball!
It wasn't a shot, more like an imaginativevolley pass?No, the trajectory of the ball.
The ball traced a bizarre, outward arc, spinning violently as if defying gravity.It plummeted and accelerated through the air, like a missile with a calculated trajectory, bypassing the desperately jumping defenders and the stunned, shifting goalkeeper.
"Whoosh!"
With a crisp sound, the ball grazed the far post and went straight into the top left corner of the net!
The whole world seemed to have been muted.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared in disbelief at the ball spinning in the net.
A mid-air.a world-class goal?
Moreover, in such an unconventional way?
Two or three seconds passed before someone gasped in shock.
"Holy shit!" Someone blurted out a curse word without thinking.
On the sidelines, Sir Alex Ferguson, who had maintained a blank expression, finally stopped chewing his gum.His eyes narrowed slightly, a barely perceptible glint of insight flashing within them.He clearly saw that this kick was less a fluke and more an almost instinctive display of extreme confidence in the ball's trajectory and technique.This wasn't the choice an 18-year-old would make; it was more like the flash of wisdom in the blink of an eye of a veteran who had spent years immersed in top-level competition.
Cristiano Ronaldo stood still, looking at the ball in the net, and slowly clenched his fist.
It wasn't because of the brilliance of the game, but because he finally felt that he was beginning to truly "control" this body, beginning to merge his future soul with this gifted husk.
He turned around, ignoring the astonished, inquisitive, and incredulous gazes around him, and calmly jogged back to his own half of the court.
As he passed Captain Keane, he heard the tough guy let out a barely audible groan, but this time, it seemed to contain less anger and more of something else.
The results of the training match are no longer important.
Everyone who witnessed this goal knows that this Portuguese teenager is perhaps far more complex than they imagined.
Cristiano Ronaldo looked up at the grey-blue sky of Manchester.Sunlight pierced through the clouds, falling on his young face, which was etched with determination.
His legend truly began from this moment.But the road ahead was still full of thorns....