2 years in (barca women)

It’s been two years since you walked through the gates at Sant Joan, and sometimes you still have to pinch yourself that this is real. You’re autistic, but you’ve always found you can handle bright stadium lights and the roar of the crowd surprisingly well — they don’t overwhelm you the way they might for others. In fact, you’ve learned to channel that energy right into your game.

Lucy greets you at the training ground with that big, warm smile of hers, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’re family. She knows your little quirks — the way you like your boots lined up just so, or how you need a quiet minute before heading out — and she respects them completely. “C’mon, show me what you’ve got today,” she grins, always pushing you just that little bit further, but always right there beside you.

Keira finds you by the pitch, quiet and steady as ever. “You’ve settled in beautifully,” she says softly. “You belong here.” She sees how hard you work, how focused you get when everything clicks — that deep, beautiful focus that’s just part of how your mind works.

Around you, the team buzzes with that familiar energy. Alexia claps you on the back before kickoff. Aitana calls your name for a one-two. Salma laughs as you race each other down the wing. They don’t see your autism as something that needs fixing — it’s just part of you, and it makes you the incredible player and teammate you are.

Two years in, and you’re not just a player here anymore. You’re part of the heartbeat of the club. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.