The Greatest of all Time

Zachary felt the difference when he was on the bus to meet Emily and her race car driver friend the morning after the match. People were doing that thing where he would glance their way, and they would pretend they hadn't been looking at him. When he would look away and focus on the passing scenery outside the bus window, he would again feel their gazes locked on him. The situation within the bus remained awkward for a while until one brave blonde-haired kid, probably an 11 to 13 years-old-male, walked up to his seat and tapped his arm.

"Hello, Mister," the kid said, looking up at his face with puppy eyes.

"Yes, hello, young man," Zachary replied, inclining his head slightly and flashing the kid a toothy grin. He could see that the kid was fidgeting and didn't want to frighten him. "How may I help you?" He asked, making sure to keep his voice as soft and gentle as possible.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, mister," the kid said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other while glancing at the floor. "But may I ask if you're Zachary Bemba, the Rosenborg number-33? You do look a lot like him?"

"Oh, that's me," Zachary responded, surprised for a moment that the kid had recognized him. A large part of his face was—covered by the hood of his jacket and his cap's visor. He hadn't expected that anyone would be able to guess his identity.

"Great," the kid said, clapping his hands excitedly. "I told my friends back there that it was you. But, they all argued that it couldn't be you, claiming that there was not a chance for a Rosenborg player to be on the same bus as us. We're all huge fans of yours and Rosenborg. It's nice to meet you in person." The kid intoned words at the pace of a machine gun, grinning from ear to ear.

"Nice to meet you, too," Zachary replied, patting the kid's shoulder. "I'm glad that you're a Rosenborg fan. What's your name, by the way?"

"Josh," the kid replied. "Joshua Simonsen"

"Oh, nice to meet you, Josh," Zachary said. "Do you play football?"

"Yes, I do," Josh was quick to reply. "I'm one of the under-13s at the NF Academy. Everyone there regards you as an idol. They'll die of envy if I tell them that I met you on the bus."

"Oh!" Zachary said, at a loss for words. "That's great," he added, only trying to keep the conversation flowing. He had just realized that talking to a fan was not an easy task. Too many compliments could creep out anyone, even the bravest of celebrities.

"Zachary," Josh said after a while. "Is it possible to get your autograph?" He asked, his voice taking on an imploring but formal tone.

"Yes, of course," Zachary replied, wishing to quickly sign for the boy and send him back to his seat. "Where can I sign for you?"

"Thank you, here is the marker," Josh said, grinning. He then removed his jacket and turned around. "You can sign on my shirt." He added, pointing a finger towards his back.

A wry smile outlined Zachary's face on seeing that the boy wanted the autograph on his well-ironed white shirt. At that moment, he couldn't help but recall the times when his grandma had pulled his ears because he had dirtied his school uniform. Although the kid in front of him wasn't in uniform, Zachary was still hesitant to mess up the kid's neat attire.

"Don't you have something like a notebook where I could sign for you?" He asked. "Your mom may not like it when you go back home with a shirt stained with ink."

"No worries," Josh said, without turning back. "My mom won't even notice. I have many shirts. Moreover, notebooks don't last. An autograph on a shirt is way better."

"Oh!" Zachary said, caressing his chin. "Then we don't need to stain your shirt with marker ink. I've got one of my Rosenborg jerseys in my gym bag. I'll sign my name on it and give it to you. How's that for a solution? Isn't that better than staining your shirt?"

"Wow," Josh said, finally turning around and facing Zachary once again. "You're giving me a signed jersey? Is it a number-33?" He asked, his voice rising to the point of attracting a few more curious gazes from the other passengers on the bus.

"No need to be loud," Zachary said, maintaining a smile. "It's a number-33 jersey, the only one I have at the moment. Well, what say you? You better decide fast coz I'm almost reaching my destination."

"Of course, I want it," Josh said, his blue eyes glittering with pure excitement. "Thank you, Zachary. My teammates at the academy are going to be super jealous."

"Okay, then I'll get the jersey," he said, picking up his gym bag from beside him. He then fished out his only number-33 jersey, carefully wrote a few encouraging words to Josh, and finally signed his name.

"Here you go," he said, folding and handing the signed jersey to Josh. He'd just realized that he had finally started acting as a role model to younger players in his former academy. He was feeling good on the inside.

Josh carefully received the jersey and unfolded it before giving it a once over. He then flashed Zachary a grin, saying, "Thanks a lot, thanks a lot..." He mumbled several thank-yous agitatedly. The boy seemed genuinely happy, and Zachary could have sworn that he'd seen a tear or two at the corner of his eyes.

"Keep working hard in the academy," Zachary said, patting the boy's shoulder once again. "You'll be playing for Rosenborg in no time if you stay true to your football."

"Thank you," Josh said, his eyes still on the jersey. "I'll treasure your words." He then folded the jersey as if it was his most prized possession in the world before returning to his seat.

Zachary let out a pent-up breath of air as soon as the kid departed. Dealing with emotional youngsters that were also passionate fans was not a part of his set of skills. But he had to put in the effort since the kid loved football. Maybe, his words could help the boy mature into a highly skilled footballer in the future. That was his intention. As his grandma had often said: "A good deed would never be lost in time. The person who sowed courtesy by doing good always reaped friendship, while the one who planted kindness would gather love." Zachary was glad that he'd sown another portion of good karma in his new life. Maybe, he would see the benefits soon.

A soft smile lit up his face as he leaned back in his seat to enjoy the rest of his bus ride to the town square. He only had to meet with Emily and her race car driver friend that day and had nothing else planned. But surprisingly, he felt relaxed and thankful for a day off from his hectic schedule. He'd finally learned to treasure his off-days after having played three intense matches within a span of a week. Had it been a month back, he would have still been on the field or in the gym training even on such days.

He was about to pull on his headsets to enjoy some music for the rest of the short journey to Trondheim Square. But to his dismay, a few more fans began appearing beside his seat, asking for his autograph in a systematic manner. He couldn't help but wonder how his fame had exploded within a single night to the point of attracting fans even when he was on a bus. He understood that it took time for any player to build a reputation among the fans. Although he was in Trondheim, the home city of Rosenborg, the fans shouldn't have easily recognized who he was since he'd only played three games for his club. Zachary was in a state of confusion as he signed his name on several notebooks of passionate Rosenborg fans, both young and old—until he reached his destination.