Chapter 52
948 Words
A clash and collaboration of cultures, race, and religion. Not just from the athletes but from the people who traveled from where ever they lived to witness what only comes every four years. If any country needed uplifting and a cause for celebration it was Brazil. The Zika virus prompted numerous international competitors and commentators to bow out; in the midst of its worst economic recession since the 1930s; an outbreak of crime in host city Rio de Janeiro and the risks of swimming in polluted waters set off alarm; and that's all without mention of the political scandal of their president. But what country didn't have issues and political scandals.
Brief flashes of sleek celebrity glamour, such as Brazilian supermodel Gisele Bundchen as she strode onto a long runway while the crowd sang along to bossa music. The breathtaking aerial shots of Brazilian beaches, cities and forests that served as a prologue, all fussed with sports images, mixed with a heavy samba beat, this was a love letter from the host country to its people and to the 205 nations being welcomed to its shores and that no matter what a city may dwell or go through they'd always come out triumphant.
Digital technology was used to display over thousands of years of world growth. Dancers in metallic capes preformed authentic moves while Brazil's prehistory unfolded, with sea creatures crawling onto land that turned into jungle. The Birth of Life; human canvases exploded, with indigenous dancers weaving giant native huts designed with veils of corded fabric. The European settlers on boats followed by the arrival of African slaves, showing South Americas lost history of its involvement in the slave trade, weights on their feet symbolizing shackles as South American slaves fused with the African slaves.
Roads began to divide the jungles and amazons a natural paradise forced to make way for agriculture and urban development. With a nation of 305 different ethnic groups, waves of immigration were acknowledged. Climate control forced trees and plants to weather, water rose and flooded lands as a display of global warming taking place. Each national team was preceded in, the flag-bearer for each team was flanked by a child, holding tight to a young plant, then followed by groups of percussionists dancers in vibrant colors. The attention to detail would blow anyone away. A feeling of being overwhelmed looking up and seeing fireworks shoot from the top of the arena, making it here wasn't the biggest nor the best part. It would be competing.

Silverware clanked against ceramic plats full of foods. A calm but cool breeze blew over the high mountain top where the exclusive restaurant sat, authentic Portuguese food was served in courses to the women's national team, couches and staff members sat throughout the table. Once the sun finally settled the temperature dropped to what could of been mistaken for fall weather.
"Quarterback addition. Uh Jimmy Garoppolo, Collin Kaepernick, and Drew Brees." Massy said and leaned back in her chair with a smile.
"Damnit, I thought you were going to give me Tom Brady." Kristie frowned at the last name mentioned. A nice game of 'f**k, Marry, or Kill' seemed to be appropriate conversation to set off their beautiful team dinner.
Massy shrugged her shoulders. "Nope, I like disappointing you."
"Obviously!" Kristie said rolling her eyes. "Ok... Well, I'm definitely f*****g Colin, I'm not passing that opportunity up. I'm marrying Jimmy, and Drew has to die."
"The Saints mean nothing to you woman." Alex said shaking her head at Kristie's final decision.
"Drew is old."
"He's 37!" Massy raised her hands in confusion as she twisted her face at Kristie.
"Yea, and I'm 25." Kristie debated back.
"Yea, and Tom Brady is 39! So what's the difference!?" Massy asked, still looking confused as ever.
Kristie went silent for a moment, realizing age meant nothing considering the fact that Tom Brady was older than everybody involved in the conversation. She frowned and chewed the inside of her cheek. "Well Drew looks 39, Tom is still cute for almost 40!"
"Don't worry, we'll find you the perfect sugar daddy Kris." Massy said with a smile.

The way Odell acted you'd think Massy left him to never return again. Like they broke up and there was no closure. Obviously going through the five stages of lose and grieving. Past the first two steps of denial and anger, he was now at bargaining, minutes away from calling Massy to make a deal that if she came home now instead of in three weeks he'd start putting his shoes away and stop leaving them through the house. Brad refused to play into his dramatics and rolled his eyes every time Odell frowned about something.
"Aye O, what that bet looking like!?" Jonathan Casillas yelled across the field the number '52' written across his blue jersey in white.
"I don't want to hear none of that honey badgers bullshit." Odell shook his head. "It's not even a question y'all gone lose. Why would I even entertain the thought." He pressed his lips together and twisted his face.
"Oh really?" Jonathan pressed his hand against his chest in shock, raising his eyebrows. "Then you about that betting life then."
Odell held his arms out, his face in disgust at the nerve of his teammates and former Wisconsin alumni even thinking his LSU Tigers could possibly lose to the Badgers on opening week of college football. "What you tryna do!?"
"We win you gotta wear my college jersey all day and post it on Instagram." Jonathan said then reached out his hand.
Odell placed his hand in his sealing the deal. "Ain't even worried."
- Writer
