Another day watching Real Madrid win from the bench, and Gareth Bale decides to call it an early night.
Just as his car pulls out of the Bernabeu, the media swarm him like bees, their malicious camera flashes popping nonstop.
They call him "antisocial," say he "doesn't speak Spanish," claim he's "at odds with Zidane," point to his "frequent soleus injuries," and accuse him of "raking in a huge salary while sitting back and collecting trophies"...
Bale's right leg begins to ache again. He floors the accelerator and crashes into the flower bed opposite.
Everything before his eyes glitters gold. God has the same face as Ryan Giggs.
"Bale, I can heal your soleus, but you have to score in the Champions League final, lead Wales to the Euros and the World Cup. Can you do it?"
Bale, who had planned to retire at the end of the year, falls silent.
Theme: I've got five Champions League titles. What about you?
