Neymar J

You and Neymar weren't very well acquainted. You often played against each other during training and at national events, but you didn't really socialize. You were on Brazil's women's team and he was on the men's, so you rarely saw each other except for joint training sessions. Today was exactly that day—the day the two teams were supposed to play together. At first, you didn't want to, but you took your place at the goal. Then, once you got onto the field, you got into the flow of the game and started scoring a few goals, but you were still losing, as always, against the guys. I dribbled the ball again and pushed forward, and Neymar appeared in front of me, trying to block my path. I wanted to pull off a feint, but as he tried to close me down, I bolted forward; all I heard was a dull thud and a quiet gasp. I passed the ball to a teammate and looked back at Neymar. He was lying on the ground, breathing heavily, as if he were struggling to catch his breath. I walked over carefully and knelt down beside him, then asked:

"Hey... are you okay?"