Chapter 148 Charity Event! Disabled Fans, I Will Remember Them!
On September 26th, Maël, who was immersed in extra training at the training ground, received a call from Wenger, who hoped he could attend a charity event.
His instinctive first reaction was actually resistance, as he felt he hadn't reached that stage yet.
Or rather, he didn't want his peaceful and quiet life to be disrupted by various activities.
After joining the Premier League team, he had been living a very regular life, completing his own extra training and the team's training sessions every day.
The extra training was entirely up to him, monotonous but with a high degree of freedom.
The team's mid-season training intensity was not high, mostly focusing on specific tactical drills and set-piece practice based on the upcoming opponent.
Apart from that, the Strength and Stamina training was no different from his own extra training.
In this situation, he had gradually found a rhythm of life in London and was unwilling to have it broken.
"Can I donate some money remotely?"
Maël asked for Mr. Wenger's opinion, wanting to deal with the event simply.
"You're mistaken."
Mr. Wenger's voice was very calm as he patiently explained, "A charity event isn't necessarily a donation event. There are many kinds of goodwill: love, fulfillment, compensation, and so on."
"This time, it's an event to care for Arsenal's Disabled Fans. Some of them have no legs but come to the Emirates Stadium in wheelchairs every day, some are blind, and some are deaf-mute."
"Ah," upon hearing that it was a charity event for Arsenal fans, Maël's heart softened a bit. He deeply appreciated the fans' support every week.
The atmosphere at the Emirates Stadium was always excellent, with Arsenal fans making it lively every time.
It was because of this that he was able to leave so many unforgettable moments and emotional highs there.
And after hearing about the Disabled Fans... Maël didn't hesitate. He immediately went to the sidelines to change his shoes and said to Mr. Wenger, "What time does it start?"
"Six o'clock, we'll have dinner together."
"I'll be there at five fifty."
Maël quickly changed his shoes, wanting to change his clothes as well, but after thinking about it, he decided to wear what he had on.
He could make up for the daytime training hours in the evening, but attending this event was more important right now.
His life had been extremely fortunate, and sometimes he even felt apprehensive. If he had the opportunity, he would definitely give back to these unfortunate fans within his capabilities.
...
In a box restaurant at the Emirates Stadium, the place was sparsely populated today, but there were many cameras set up.
Several people of different ages, each with their own misfortunes, sat around a round table, happily waiting for the club's coaches and players.
"I can't see."
A fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy smiled and said expectantly, "When Mr. Wenger comes later, be sure to tell me."
"Okay." An old man in a wheelchair nodded. He had no legs, but otherwise he was fine. "Which player do you like the most?"
"It used to be Fabregas. He was with the team since I was very young, and he stayed with me until last year."
The little boy looked straight ahead, but his face was expressive. "Everyone knows what happened later. I don't blame him, but I don't like him anymore."
"Later, I liked Van Persie, Koscielny... and now I really like Maël."
"I like Maël too." The old man in the wheelchair nodded and smiled, saying, "He brings surprises every week. All my recent joy comes from him."
After speaking, he looked to another spot, where there were two people with all their limbs, but they hadn't said a word, one male and one female.
The man was about thirty years old, wearing tattered Arsenal clothes, with a long beard and hair, looking like a homeless person.
The girl was about seventeen or eighteen years old, very beautiful, with a pale face, her eyes full of curiosity about everything, looking innocent and pitiful.
"What about you?" the old man in the wheelchair asked, not understanding why the two of them were sitting here.
"Van Persie, Maël, Walcott." The middle-aged man lowered his head, showing a shyness unlike his age, or rather, a fear of talking to people.
Judging from his animated expression, he was very happy today.
Perhaps because of this, after lowering his head, he still tried awkwardly to talk to everyone, "I can see and hear, but I have three illnesses."
"Because I had polio as a child, I am extremely sensitive to everything, especially other people's gazes. As I grew older, this situation gradually worsened and spread to other areas."
"I was diagnosed with mild autism and severe claustrophobia. I can't travel by car or plane, and I can't even be alone in a room. Too many people are also a problem.
"Later, as I grew older, with the help of my parents, I began to face these problems squarely and confront them, trying to solve them in various ways. I want to live like a normal person."
Speaking of this, he slowly raised his head and smiled, "Seven years ago, I watched my first Arsenal game. Initially, it was also to solve my condition through stimulation.
"Later, I found it to be extremely effective. I fell in love with football, fell in love with Arsenal, which gives me a lot of healing.
"Because I still can't stand taking a car to the team's away games, I started trying to cycle around England to watch all of the team's Premier League games.
"I ride very, very slowly, often traveling for several days, but I still can't reach my destination and miss that round of away games. Sometimes I cry sadly.
"But because of this, I don't have too high expectations. Every time I can make it to an away game, I'm already very happy and can not care about winning or losing."
He said a lot of things he had prepared for a long time. After speaking, he saw everyone silently lowering their heads, and he also shyly lowered his head.
"What about you?" The old man in the wheelchair looked at the girl and asked with a heavy expression.
The girl pointed to her mouth and shook her head, took out the paper and pen from her pocket, and wrote a sentence: "I can't speak, but I like Maël because he plays very well and is very handsome."
Everyone stopped talking, and the atmosphere of waiting became deep.
At 5:43 p.m., Maël drove his Ferrari into the underground parking lot of the Emirates Stadium.
At the elevator entrance, he saw Mr. Wenger, who had been looking forward to his arrival. He was the only one standing there.
"Just the two of us?" He approached and asked.
"And Van Persie and Vermaelen." Wenger glanced at his watch and replied, "But Van Persie will arrive around 6:20, and Vermaelen will be even later."
"Go up first?"
Maël pointed to the elevator. After seeing Wenger nod, he walked in with him.
They quickly arrived at the floor where the box was located. After exiting the elevator, they saw four people sitting at a table in the distance.
"Mr. Wenger is here!"
The old man in the wheelchair noticed it first. He pointed to the elevator entrance and said in surprise, "And Maël!"
"Really?" The little boy turned his head towards the sound of footsteps, clapped his hands, and was so excited that he didn't know what to do.
"Really, just not far from us!"
The old man in the wheelchair even had the urge to stand up. For ordinary fans... or rather, not even ordinary fans, they are fans who are often discriminated against and misunderstood.
For them, being able to see the team's peerless supernova Maël and legendary coach Wenger in such a place and so close is naturally extremely exciting.
The middle-aged man raised his head and looked at the two with a silly smile.
The young girl's breathing was slightly rapid. Her face was anxious, but she could only stammer and then closed her mouth in frustration.
"Hello, everyone."
Wenger felt a little uncomfortable when he saw them, but he still showed his brightest smile, "Van Persie and Vermaelen will be here later. Let's eat first."
Maël greeted the four of them. He almost instantly judged what problems each of them had, but he was a little unsure about the middle-aged man.
During the meal, they talked very little. Occasionally, Wenger would take the initiative to bring up a topic, and occasionally Maël would, but these four fans mostly couldn't answer clearly.
"I'll chat with the two of them."
After the meal, Wenger had no choice but to choose a private chat, taking away the old man in the wheelchair and the little boy, and letting Maël go to the middle-aged man and the girl.
"Okay."
Maël came to the side of the middle-aged man and the girl. Just as he was about to speak, he saw the middle-aged man lower his head. "Because when I was young..."
"..."
He repeated what he had just told the others, word for word.
Maël felt a wave in his heart as he listened, and asked with a solemn expression, "You watch almost every game and go to the away games. It must cost a lot, right?"
"My parents left me an apartment before they passed away. I rent it out now and get £700 a month in rent. With government subsidies, it's barely enough."
The middle-aged man finally showed some smile, but it was more like he was afraid that Maël would laugh at him, a self-deprecating smile revealed in advance, "I don't stay in hotels, and I don't eat in restaurants.
"I bring a quilt and pots and pans, and usually find a place to live and cook myself... Have you seen the decorations of the 18th-century grenadier corps?
"When I travel, I sometimes resemble that... someone who wears a tall top hat when it gets cold in winter, haha."
Maël's expression remained solemn. He raised his hand, signaling the two to sit beside him, feeling a complex mix of emotions and unsure what to say.
He suddenly turned to look at the young woman, who immediately averted her gaze shyly, though her eyes sparkled and a smile played on her lips.
She hadn't spoken a word. Maël guessed she must be deaf and mute, but he couldn't understand why she didn't communicate with him through writing.
"You..."
After a long pause, he asked, "Do you have any regrets or desires?"
He wanted to help them, and if their wishes were related to Arsenal, he should be able to make it happen easily.
"I..."
The middle-aged man pursed his lips, hesitating. His eyes suddenly became a little moist. "I want a season ticket with away game access, but I can't get to the front of the line. I have to wait several years."
"Many times, I can't make it to the away games. Sometimes, when I finally do, I can't get a ticket because the scalpers sell them too high, and I can only leave disappointed."
A string in Maël's heart suddenly twanged violently. He wasn't unfamiliar with the fervor of European fans for football, what football culture represented here.
But such a specific, such a tangible feeling, was a first.
"Anything else?"
"No, I don't need donations or autographs. I just hope to see the team's games every week. That's my biggest wish. I think, if I can watch for another three years, my illness should be cured."
Maël patted him on the shoulder, unsure what to say, finally managing, "I'll take care of it. I wish you a speedy recovery. I'll keep your contact information."
"When you get better, I'll take you on the club's bus, and we'll go to an away game together."
"Definitely." The middle-aged man raised his right hand, wiping his eyes. "My name is David."
Maël continued to pat his back, then turned to look at the young woman, noticing she was writing something.
When she held up the paper, a neat and clear line of text appeared: "Maël, I like you. May I have a hug?"
Maël smiled, stood up, hugged her, and asked, "You're very beautiful. Can you answer the question I just asked you?"
After separating from Maël, the young woman's eyes reddened, perhaps from the excitement of meeting her idol, or from the regret of wanting something unattainable.
Maël came to her side, watching as she carefully wrote on the paper.
"I don't want anything, I just want to tell you something. Your goals are wonderful and beautiful."
Maël smiled, touching the young woman's head. Her hair was smooth, and she looked extremely pure. "Thank you. I'll score many more wonderful goals."
"But I can't celebrate your goals... because I can't speak."
She pointed to her mouth, shaking her head with slightly red eyes, then lowered her head to write again.
Maël watched her intently as she wrote, a few twinges of sympathy rising in his heart. He would give her and David signed jerseys and shoes later.
If he could, he would prepare season tickets, giving one to each of them, even all four of them.
"Every time I make noises, people look at me strangely. Even when they're at their most joyous, they don't want to celebrate with me."
"Few people hug me or high-five me. Most people just look at me with fear and disgust, and then move away from me."
"I receive a lot of encouraging messages online, but in reality, in the stadium, I can't get anything."
"I just want to celebrate goals, but I'm often ridiculed and insulted. They think I can't hear, and they think I'm stupid and can't see anything."
Seeing her fill the entire sheet of paper, Maël slightly opened his mouth, a numb feeling spreading across his face and instantly throughout his body.
He could completely empathize with the young woman, feeling everything she had suffered.
He knew the feeling of emotional climax, and he had heard the cheers of the Emirates Stadium countless times, but he never imagined that in those moments, there would be a young woman in the stands who didn't even have the right to celebrate.
What could he say? Blame the Arsenal fans around the young woman?
Lament the complexity of people? "Eugh..." The young woman pursed her lips and began to cry, unable to stop herself from making some sounds, then covered her mouth with her hand, afraid that Maël would also show a disgusted expression like those people.
Maël remained expressionless. Numbly, he stepped forward and hugged the young woman, patting her back to comfort her.
His mind raced. Maybe he had to do something... but what exactly should he do? He had only just met these people, and his relationship with them wasn't very close, and they were destined not to have any involvement in real life.
Give them some money that wasn't much to him? Or help them speak out on social media, calling on Arsenal fans to care for them?
Maybe none of this is the optimal solution, and it may not truly help them; some things might even backfire.
"I'll leave you my contact information as well."
He took out his phone and had the young girl write her social media account on a piece of paper, saying, "I'll give you a jersey with my signature and write something on it.
"Let the people close to you know that I hope you won't be hurt, or rather, that I'm protecting you, okay?
"And... the next home game in the Champions League will probably be too soon, but I'll pick a good day and book a box at the Emirates Stadium for the four of you, so you can watch a game quietly, okay?
"No one will bother you; you can celebrate or do whatever you want."
These were the only two things he could do. Maybe he could do more, but for now, these were the only things he could think of.
"Yes!"
The young girl finally wrote a huge 'yes' on the entire piece of paper. She stopped crying and started jumping up and down with a smile, but the energy hadn't completely subsided, and her body occasionally trembled slightly.
Maël then took off his jersey, signed it, and gave it to her.
Knowing that the middle-aged man had a long way to walk, he wrote a blessing on his shoes and gave them to him.
Both of them gladly accepted. In the end, they stood on either side of Maël with happy smiles and took a group photo.
"I won't forget them."
After the event, Maël walked out of the restaurant, having changed into a set of casual clothes. "The fans pay so much to support the team every week; we should always do something for them."
Wenger nodded in agreement and stopped at the elevator entrance after escorting Maël. "I'll wait for Vermaelen and Van Persie; you go ahead."
"Okay."
Maël walked into the elevator and turned back to say, "Mr. Wenger, I'll participate in more of these events in the future. Remember those four season tickets with away games."
...
ps: Monthly update 20794, target 540,000.
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