Dynamo_ZahnZee
Member
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2010
- Messages
- 4,041
- Reaction score
- 2
- Points
- 36
View attachment 352849
"como são"
The words echoed from my childhood. Perched on the slope of Serra De Sintra, I turned
to meet the gaze of my Father. He was a proud man, a stern yet loving hand is how I remember him.
We lost our mother when I was 5 so it's just been us for as long as I could remember.
But I loved these trips to the Sintra Mountains, I loved them dearly.
These mountains used to be known as Lunae Mons, or the "Mountains of the Moon."
Even as a boy I recognized their mysticism. This was an era forgotten to the world, for Lunae Mons
was were Cynthia; A Roman Goddess, used catch her thoughts. As did I.
View attachment 352827
He enjoyed the simple pleasures, my Father. He worked hard, raised a family and followed
his beloved Sporting Clube de Portugal to the ends of the earth. He would tell me stories of the
Cinco Violinos; a forward line of Jesus Correia, Manuel Vasques, Fernando Peyroteo,
José Travassos, and Albano. These men were said to play as an orchestra together with
the same collective spirit and efficiency on the field.
He was only 10 years old when his father took him to the Estadio Nacional in 1949 to see
the Sporting Portugal score the first ever goal in the Cup of the Clubs of the European Champions.
View attachment 352826
My Father returned the favor and took me to countless games. I quickly developed a taste for it.
I loved the roar of the crowd, the chants, the emotion, the triumph and the despair.
There were thousands of us but we were one within those walls.
It was in his honor that I completed my FIFA Continental Coaching badges. Football was his life, as was I.
It was inevitable that I would fall in love with the beautiful game. He believed in me. Despite my lack of
athleticism, I grew infatuated with Football. I couldn't play but I'd watch the games, furiously studying the
field. My Father jokes, saying i was possessed. that the Gods of Football have claimed me now.
I raised the wreath close to my chest. I could feel the tears start to well up but I fought the away.
"Papa, It's me. They called me back again today."
I managed a quick smile as a touched the fence.
"You always believed in me, and they said It was mine. Papa, they offered me the Job"
Tears starting to push their way through
"I'll doing this for you Papa, thank you for everything"
I placed the wreath on the fence before saying a prayer.
One year on. The Anniversary of his death.
View attachment 352825
"como são"
The words echoed from my childhood. Perched on the slope of Serra De Sintra, I turned
to meet the gaze of my Father. He was a proud man, a stern yet loving hand is how I remember him.
We lost our mother when I was 5 so it's just been us for as long as I could remember.
But I loved these trips to the Sintra Mountains, I loved them dearly.
These mountains used to be known as Lunae Mons, or the "Mountains of the Moon."
Even as a boy I recognized their mysticism. This was an era forgotten to the world, for Lunae Mons
was were Cynthia; A Roman Goddess, used catch her thoughts. As did I.
View attachment 352827
He enjoyed the simple pleasures, my Father. He worked hard, raised a family and followed
his beloved Sporting Clube de Portugal to the ends of the earth. He would tell me stories of the
Cinco Violinos; a forward line of Jesus Correia, Manuel Vasques, Fernando Peyroteo,
José Travassos, and Albano. These men were said to play as an orchestra together with
the same collective spirit and efficiency on the field.
He was only 10 years old when his father took him to the Estadio Nacional in 1949 to see
the Sporting Portugal score the first ever goal in the Cup of the Clubs of the European Champions.
View attachment 352826
My Father returned the favor and took me to countless games. I quickly developed a taste for it.
I loved the roar of the crowd, the chants, the emotion, the triumph and the despair.
There were thousands of us but we were one within those walls.
It was in his honor that I completed my FIFA Continental Coaching badges. Football was his life, as was I.
It was inevitable that I would fall in love with the beautiful game. He believed in me. Despite my lack of
athleticism, I grew infatuated with Football. I couldn't play but I'd watch the games, furiously studying the
field. My Father jokes, saying i was possessed. that the Gods of Football have claimed me now.
I raised the wreath close to my chest. I could feel the tears start to well up but I fought the away.
"Papa, It's me. They called me back again today."
I managed a quick smile as a touched the fence.
"You always believed in me, and they said It was mine. Papa, they offered me the Job"
Tears starting to push their way through
"I'll doing this for you Papa, thank you for everything"
I placed the wreath on the fence before saying a prayer.
One year on. The Anniversary of his death.
View attachment 352825
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