On how I met Fernando Torres...

 

Things were not working out. It was 8pm and I was staring at the Petronas towers while my Italian boss was giving the taxi driver an earful. He cheated us. We were staying at Hilton Kuala Lumpur and here we were in the middle of horrible rush hour traffic in the center of the city. I looked at my watch and felt so hopeless. I wasn’t going to make it. The team will leave Bukit Jalil by 9pm. It will take them 30 minutes tops to get back to the hotel. I didn’t even know where it was. Heck, I didn’t even know if the training was really at 7pm. Mika told me that was the time Arsenal and Liverpool trained during their recent tour here in Malaysia. What if Chelsea chose another time?

Almost 9pm and I was still in front of Hilton. I was taking a cab but had to pay in cash (this is KL! not SG!!!). Conveniently, all the ATM machines (I went to 10 ATM machines, not even kidding) did not accept cirrus or visa. I was rethinking my plan when I got in the cab. Maybe it was a mistake. It was late and the ride felt like forever (only 15 minutes though). I got out of the cab but asked him to stay in case I missed them already. “Are they back from training?” “Not yet.” I was in business.

The only picture I got to take was of myself waiting in line with Drogba fans. The first to arrive was AVB. He was so handsome in person but I was too frazzled to do anything. Lampard was beside me having his photo taken with other people. I’m pretty sure I’m in those pictures LOL. I did not care at all. I said hi to Cech though. I think he’s a pretty decent player. Then Drogba came in and I nearly got killed by the lethal combination of guards screaming in my face and boys pushing me from behind. It was very possible that I pushed Drogba away. Fuck you Drogba fans, but I fully understand. I kept screaming I CAN’T SEE! I CAN’T SEE!

Fernando started signing but totally skipped my section. I ran lilke hell to the next empty spot which so happened to be a fucking fountain. So with one foot in the water, I tried again to get his attention (to no avail). Last hope was near the elevator. If I missed him there, that’s that. I quite literally pushed my way to the front. And there he was! A foot away from me!

I was saying out loud (read: screaming) Fernando por favor! Por Favor! No me olvides! No me olvides! Then he got to me and signed the page I picked out: the Euro 2008 goal from his autobiography Torres El Nino My Story.

Frantically, I was telling him: UNA REGALO PARA NORA! REGALO PARA NORA! And he looked at me intently and waited there as I struggled to get the bag stuck under that security red tape and my own sweater. He signed a couple of other things and then returned my marker to me. Finally handed him the small Hilton newspaper bag from the morning and said REGALO PARA NORA DESDE FILIPINAS. Desde Filipinas! He was looking at me the entire time, maybe wondering where Filipinas was. Then he took the bag and said in his soft small voice: TENG Q (that is thank you in Nanglish).

And then he was gone.

And here I live to tell the tale.