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⚡️ Waiting for the Match: Between Workouts and Guilty Pleasures ⚡️

The squats are making my leg muscles burn; my rock-hard glutes flex with every ascent. One, two, three... then I stop counting, I just go until failure. The numbers don't matter, the reps don't matter—only the fire in my muscles and the sweat that dictates the pace. The earbuds playing the Gold Bros Hits isolate me from the rest of the world, turning the fatigue into pure rhythm.

“Workout done, bros.” 🤳💪 Click.

It’s the classic jock-style selfie: muscles still pumped from the effort, Golden Army tank top soaked in sweat, a smirk from someone who knows they’ve given it their all. The fans on social media will go crazy, but behind that filter lies the raw reality of weeks spent pushing past the limit. The match against the CFGs is looming, but right now, the exhaustion is just background noise. I feel strong. I feel full.

Then, the chaos of the gym slips away.

I step into the shower and the world shifts. The aggressive neon lights of the weight room give way to a soft, almost muffled glow. The hot water hits my tense shoulders and I feel the stress melting, sliding down. My mind slows down. The thoughts that were racing between tactical plays and maxed-out weights slowly fade as the steam fills my nostrils.

Inhale. Exhale. Again.

“Relax, let go, feel the connection with your mind. Leave out everything superficial. Inhale calm exhale distractions.” It’s not just a thought. It’s a mantra. A program activated deep within. Xavier the jock, Xavier the jokester, doesn't exist in this moment: there is only a perfect machine, an absolute synchronicity between the body and the mind that now governs it with absolute peace. Time loses its meaning. There is only the heartbeat slowing down under the scorching jet.

I walk out of the locker room with a towel wrapped around my waist, my muscles still defined by the heat. I can feel the guys' eyes on me: a mix of admiration and that usual curiosity. They know I’m prone to joking around, that I’m the one who breaks the tension, but no one ever really knows what’s going on in my head when the silence falls.

Bzz-bzz. My phone vibrates in my bag

ALTON: “Hey bro, stop screwing around and meet us at the Chalice pub. Hurry up or Daniel’s gonna finish all the beer. Move it!”

🍔 AT THE CHALICE 🍔 A few minutes later, I cross the threshold of the Chalice. Alton, Wells, and Daniel are already there, their golden jerseys a bright spot in the noisiest corner of the place. “Hey bros, over here!” Wells calls out with an exaggerated wave.

I sit down to find an altar of calories waiting for me. “We ordered you the usual, 'total destruction' version: double Cheeseburger with crispy bacon, caramelized onions, peppers, guac... double side of fries, and a pint,” Daniel announces, clutching his glass jealously, “or at least, what’s left of it after I took a few sips!”

“Guys, you have no idea how much I needed this!”

I pick it up. It’s heavy, greasy, glorious. I take a huge bite, no regrets. It’s an explosion of flavors that brings every single one of my cells back down to earth. “Mmmmm... Oh god, this is so good!” I mumble with my mouth full, completely ignoring any sense of etiquette.

“Hey bro, take it easy! You look like you haven't eaten in a week,” Wells laughs, looking at me in disbelief.

“Heh heh, leave him be, the bro is in bulk,” Alton interjects with a satisfied grin, reaching out to tap my bicep with an approving pat. “He’s gotta get his strength up for the match, we need this mass on the field!”

“At this rate, I won’t be running, I’ll be rolling straight into the CFG defenders,” I say between bites, sparking a roar of laughter.

“Bro, enjoy it,” Wells adds, leaning back. “You'll have plenty of time tomorrow during the dawn practice to feel guilty.”

I raise my pint, looking at my friends, my teammates, my chosen family. “No bro. There’s no pleasure that could make me feel guilty if it means being here talking trash with my bros.”

Daniel squints at me, impressed. “Where’s all this sudden wisdom coming from, Xav?”

I take one last, massive bite of the burger and wink. “Must be the sugar, bro! Definitely the sugar”

The grind is tough, the burgers are huge, the brotherhood is forever.

contact our recruiters: @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166, @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-125

In this story: @danielgold-16 @wells-gold58 @alton-gold77

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