Wrong Locker Room

The World Cup is supposed to be stressful.

That's normal.

Pressure.

Expectations.

National pride.

Millions of supporters watching every touch of the ball.

What isn't normal is finding yourself trapped in a locker room shower at eleven in the morning listening to an existential crisis from a footballer you've never met before.

Yet somehow, that's exactly where your day has ended up.

Training has just finished.

The Brazilian squad is slowly dispersing.

Some players head to physio.

Others to interviews.

Others disappear entirely, presumably to cause trouble somewhere else.

You and Pablo, meanwhile, have chosen the much simpler option.

A shower.

Peace.

Silence.

Five minutes without football.

Pablo: I swear the coach hates me.

You: He literally started you.

Pablo: Exactly.

You: That doesn't support your argument.

Pablo: Psychological warfare.

You roll your eyes.

Steam fills the room.

For the first time all morning, things are calm.

Pablo: You know what my problem is?

You: Several things come to mind.

Pablo: No, professionally.

You: Ah.

Much shorter list.

Pablo points dramatically.

Pablo: Nobody appreciates my genius.

You: Because it doesn't exist.

Pablo: Hurtful.

Then the locker room door opens.

Both of you ignore it.

Players come and go constantly.

The door closes.

Silence.

Then a voice.

Minji: Oh thank God.

You freeze.

Pablo freezes.

You slowly turn.

Standing in the doorway is a woman you've never seen before.

Tall.

Athletic.

Long dark hair.

South Korean training gear.

Very clearly not supposed to be here.

She freezes too.

Minji: ...

You: ...

Pablo: ...

Minji: This is the wrong room.

Pablo: Outstanding observation.

Minji: Very wrong room.

You: Extremely wrong room.

Another silence.

Minji: Right.

Instead of leaving, she closes her eyes.

Minji: Okay.

Nobody panic.

Pablo: Usually when somebody says that, panic is already justified.

Minji: I won't look.

Pablo: We appreciate that.

Minji: I just need advice.

You: Now?

Minji: Yes.

You: Here?

Minji: Yes.

Pablo: In the shower?

Minji: Ideally not.

But life is complicated.

You exchange a look with Pablo.

Pablo exchanges a look with you.

Neither of you has any idea what is happening.

You: Who are you?

Minji: Minji.

South Korea.

Midfielder.

Pablo: Ah.

That clears everything up.

You: It absolutely doesn't.

Minji: Sorry.

I haven't planned this.

Pablo: We can tell.

Minji starts pacing.

Still keeping her eyes firmly shut.

Minji: Okay.

So.

Hypothetically.

You: Never a good start.

Minji: Suppose somebody spent their entire life trying to be taken seriously.

Pablo: Uh-oh.

Minji: Suppose that person worked incredibly hard.

Trained every day.

Made sacrifices.

Represented her country.

You: That's oddly specific.

Minji: And suppose everybody ignored all of that.

Pablo: Ah.

For the first time, both of you understand.

Minji: They just look at me.

And that's it.

She gestures vaguely at herself.

Minji: They don't talk about football.

They don't talk about tactics.

They don't talk about performances.

Pablo: They talk about your appearance.

Minji: Exactly.

She points triumphantly.

Minji: See?

You understand.

Pablo: I am surprisingly wise.

You: Do not encourage him.

Minji: Sorry.

I know this is weird.

You: Slightly.

Minji: Slightly?

Pablo: You're holding an emotional intervention in the wrong locker room.

Minji: Fair.

She sighs heavily.

Minji: I don't even feel like I belong sometimes.

You: On the team?

Minji: Anywhere.

The joking fades slightly.

Minji: The other girls look Korean.

Sound Korean.

Feel Korean.

Pablo: You are Korean.

Minji: I know.

But people always ask.

She imitates interviewers.

Minji: Are you mixed?

Where are your parents from?

Are you sure you're Korean?

She throws her hands into the air.

Minji: I don't know!

Maybe one of my ancestors got lost somewhere centuries ago!

Pablo: Brazil, probably.

You: Pablo.

Pablo: What?

Look at her.

You: Pablo.

Pablo: Fine.

Minji unexpectedly laughs.

The first genuine laugh of the conversation.

Minji: Thank you.

Most people don't say it out loud.

Pablo: I am many things.

Subtle is not one of them.

Minji nods thoughtfully.

Minji: I noticed.

For a few moments, nobody speaks.

The steam drifts lazily through the room.

The World Cup suddenly feels very far away.

Minji: You know what's funny?

You: What?

Minji: I don't even know why I came here.

Pablo: Excellent question.

Minji: I saw the Brazil sign.

You: And thought—

Minji: They seem emotionally stable.

You both burst out laughing.

Pablo: Brazil?

Emotionally stable?

You: We cry during penalties.

Pablo: We cry before penalties.

You: We cry when there aren't penalties.

Minji: See?

Honesty.

That's what I need.

She finally opens her eyes.

Looks exhausted.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Like somebody who has been carrying the same worries for years.

You: Minji.

Minji: Yeah?

You: You don't seem okay.

She laughs softly.

Minji: That's because I'm not.

Pablo surprisingly becomes serious.

Pablo: Welcome to football.

She looks at him.

Pablo shrugs.

Pablo: Every player here is scared.

Minji: Really?

Pablo: Of course.

You: Different reasons.

Same pressure.

Pablo: Entire countries watching.

You: Expectations.

Pablo: Criticism.

You: Social media.

Pablo: Journalists.

You: Coaches.

Pablo: Other players.

You: Yourself.

Minji listens quietly.

Almost like a child listening to a bedtime story.

Minji: So what do you do?

You: About what?

Minji: When you feel like you're drowning.

Silence.

You and Pablo glance at each other.

The kind of glance teammates develop after years together.

Pablo: Usually?

You: We make terrible jokes.

Pablo: Very terrible.

You: Then food.

Pablo: Lots of food.

You: Then we remember football is just football.

Pablo: Which is a lie.

You: Complete lie.

Pablo: Massive lie.

Minji laughs again.

You: But it helps.

She smiles.

A real smile this time.

Minji: I think that's the first helpful thing anybody's said all week.

Pablo: You're welcome.

Minji: I wasn't talking to you.

Pablo: Cruel.

Minji finally heads toward the door.

Then stops.

Minji: One more thing.

You: What?

Minji: I have absolutely no idea where my actual locker room is.

You stare.

Pablo stares.

The smile slowly disappears from your faces.

You: You're joking.

Minji: I wish I was.

Pablo throws his head back dramatically.

Pablo: Ladies and gentlemen.

The World Cup has officially begun.