Page 35 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
‘You said your heart led you here …hoksi, could it perhaps be for a woman?’
A collective gasp.
Everybody is aware of Rodrigo’s chequered personal life. Worshipped by fans across Asia for his meteoric rise as a professional and subsequent success as one of the handful of Asian stars playing in Europe, Rodrigo’s life is a dinner-table discussion in most Asian households. Parents berate him for his antics off the field, while adolescents idolize him for the same. But it’s fair to say his personal life has been in shambles for years now, and living in the public eye means his life has been an open book. Chances are that if you are Asian and can read and write, you’d know what Rodrigo ate for lunch and who he showered with. Though much is not known about his life before he started playing professionally—aside from the fact that he’d had a difficult childhood which included being brought up by a single father in Japan and running away from home at age seventeen—his life since has been no secret. From dating a slew of beauties, including a Miss World, to reportedly fathering a child with an unidentified woman, his love life has always been fodder for gossip. The latter bit of information, in fact, took quite a while to die down. News agencies had launched an intensive search to unearth the identity of the mother and be the first to get their hands on photos of the child. But Rodrigo had done a terrific job of hiding both, the mother’s identity as well as the child’s face. Thankfully, for him and for his team, the noise died down once the media got busy trying to wrap their heads around Cristiano Ronaldo becoming a father to children born to his girlfriend and via a surrogate, only a few months apart. But Rodrigo has been relatively quieter since, and after moving to India, not much had been heard about his shenanigans, barring a recent alleged trystwith a young Indian tennis star. Most had assumed that age had probably sobered him. So, naturally, now everybody is mildly horrified that the journalist might have touched a raw nerve with this latest salvo.
The emcee intervenes and makes a feeble attempt at salvaging the situation.
‘Now, now, Aejeong-ssi, do give others a chance. You can’t be hogging the mic!’ He signs off with a weak laugh.
‘Miss, you asked if it could be because of a woman? I can tell you it definitely is not a man! Does that satisfy your curiosity?’ Rodrigo’s shoulders look tight and his spine is upright. His body is tense but the lopsided smirk he’s wearing gives off an impression of quick recovery.
Flashes everywhere. The clicking sound of camera shutters fills up the room. The photographers are in a frenzy. Reporters are relaying the quote to the news desk where editors are punching in the latest newsbreak and scrambling to be the first to go on the air with it.
‘Is this the real reason you sacrificed practically an entire season? You could have played the season in India and then come here. What was the hurry?’ somebody wants to know.
‘Actually, no. The ISL wraps up in April and the league here begins in February-March. Have you not been doing your homework, young man?’ Rodrigo asks the journalist teasingly.
‘But, you still do miss out on crucial playing time. At your age, that’s a huge price to pay! Did you not want to play this season? There’s still two months …’ the reporter continues defiantly.
‘But, according to you, I’m an old guy. You think I’d have been fit to keep up with Minkyu, Oberdan, my friend Jesse? Would you have forgiven me if the club gave me a crack at the league this season and I flopped? Mr President here would send me back to where I came from! Look, I have nothing to prove to the world anymore. I’m here because I want to prove to myself thatI’m not done and out yet. That I still have more to give. That I deserve the chance to prove to her that …’
‘Her?’ the journalist cuts in, his voice high-pitched with excitement.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You said her, Rodrigo-ssi. That you deserve the chance to prove to her … prove what, sir? And, to whom?’
The president clears his throat and doesn’t look too pleased.
Throw them a bone and they want the whole damn carcass. These aren’t reporters, they are hyenas!
‘Oh. Her.’ Rodrigo pats his chest and then points at the roof. ‘Her, up there. God Almighty! I believe God is a woman. Everything good in the universe is because of women, won’t you agree? So, I’m here for her, to prove to her that I deserve another chance!’ Rodrigo smiles and hopes the earnestness in his voice and words will help salvage the situation.
A few members in the audience applaud, but most look unconvinced.
The way he said her, it sounded like he was referring to a human woman and not God, don’t you think?
Word travels back to news desks and portals in nanoseconds. Stories are live in minutes.
‘Brazilian international and Seoul Stealer FC’s newest No. 9, Asian hero and former Aston Villa striker Rodrigo makes cryptic remarks and vaguely hints at the possibility of love leading him to Korea. ’
Tickers follow.
He says his heart has led him here. Could a woman be the reason?
Rodrigo saysGod is a woman.
And, he’s here for her.Who is she?
Rodrigo—devotee or devoted lover?
Desk producers rush to their video libraries to pull out tapes of old stories. Scripts are being written about the timeline of Rodrigo’s past relationships. A brief story on his cloudy childhood is also pulgged in. Quick phone calls are made to former flames and football pundits for reactions. Every sports desk at every news and celebrity media organization has its hands full. Rodrigo looks set to grab headlines and trend across social media for the next few days, if not weeks.
Pleased as a punch about the quick turnaround despite wrinkling his orthodox nose at Rodrigo’s god-is-a-woman statement, the club president looks chuffed and his tan, wrinkled face spreads into a smile as wide as the Han River. As Rodrigo laps up the attention and smiles for the flashbulbs, he looks on like a seasoned businessman who can already see his high-risk-high-return investment paying off. He fishes out his phone and punches in a quick text.
‘Mina-ya, gomawo uri tal[thank you, my daughter]! You’ve done well,jarhaesseo[well done]!’
Figuring this is as good a time as any to draw curtains on the open house, the emcee starts to speak when, out of the blue, a gruff male voice interrupts the gentle hum of light laughter and loud smiles.
