CHAPTER 243: THE HERO’S MORNING

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of Amani’s apartment, casting long shadows across the floor where his KNVB Cup winner’s medal lay gleaming on the bedside table. It was 6:30 AM, and while the rest of Utrecht was probably still sleeping off the celebrations from the night before, Amani was already awake, his internal clock refusing to acknowledge that this was supposed to be a day of rest.

His phone had been buzzing constantly since he’d woken up - messages from teammates, coaches, family members, and friends from around the world, all congratulating him on the previous day’s heroics. But it was the official message from the school and the club that caught his attention: "Day off granted. Rest and recover. You’ve earned it."

But rest was the last thing on Amani’s mind. His body felt energized despite the physical and emotional exhaustion of the cup final. His internal system was still processing the events of the previous day, analyzing every moment, every decision, every touch of the ball. The adrenaline hadn’t fully left his system, and the idea of sitting still felt impossible.

He pulled on his running gear - a simple Utrecht training top, shorts, and his favorite running shoes. As he laced up his trainers, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He looked the same as he had a week ago, but something fundamental had changed. Yesterday, he had been a promising young player with potential. Today, he was Utrecht’s hero, the boy who had ended nine years of heartbreak with one magical afternoon.

The streets of Utrecht were quieter than usual as he stepped out of his apartment building. The aftermath of the celebrations was evident everywhere - red and white confetti scattered on the pavements, empty bottles and cans in doorways, and banners still hanging from windows and balconies. The city looked like it had hosted the party of a lifetime, which, in many ways, it had.

Amani began his run with a gentle jog through the residential streets near his apartment. His route would take him through different neighborhoods of the city, past the places where he had built his life over the past year. But today, everything felt different. Today, he wasn’t just another young footballer going for a morning run - he was the hero who had brought the cup home.

The first person to recognize him was an elderly man walking his dog near Wilhelminapark. The man’s face lit up with recognition, and he immediately changed direction to intercept Amani’s path.

"Amani! My boy!" the man called out, his voice filled with emotion. "That goal yesterday... I’ve been supporting Utrecht for fifty years, and I’ve never seen anything like it!"

Amani slowed to a stop, his breathing slightly elevated from the run. "Thank you, sir. It was a team effort."

"Nonsense!" the man replied, reaching out to shake Amani’s hand. "That was pure magic. My grandson was watching with me, and he said you’re better than Messi. I told him he might be right!"

The man’s dog, a small terrier, seemed to sense the excitement and began wagging its tail enthusiastically. Even the animals of Utrecht appeared to be celebrating.

"You’ll stay with us, won’t you?" the man asked, his voice carrying a note of concern. "I know the big clubs will come calling, but Utrecht is your home now. We need you."

Amani smiled, touched by the genuine emotion in the man’s voice. "Utrecht has given me everything. This is my home."

The man’s face broke into a wide grin. "Good boy. Good boy. You keep running, champion. The whole city is proud of you."

As Amani continued his run, word seemed to spread ahead of him like wildfire. By the time he reached the main shopping district, small groups of people had gathered on street corners, clearly hoping to catch a glimpse of their hero.

Outside the local bakery where he sometimes bought breakfast, a crowd of about twenty people had assembled. When they spotted him approaching, a cheer went up that echoed off the surrounding buildings.

"AMANI! AMANI! AMANI!" they chanted, their voices filled with joy and admiration.

Mrs. van der Berg, the bakery owner, emerged from her shop carrying a large box. "Amani! Perfect timing! I have something for you!"

She opened the box to reveal a cake shaped like a football, with "OUR HERO" written in red and white icing. "This is for you, my boy. Free of charge. After what you did yesterday, you’ll never pay for anything in my shop again."

The crowd pressed closer, everyone wanting to shake his hand, take a picture, or simply be near the young man who had given them the greatest day of their lives. Amani found himself surrounded by faces of all ages - children who had stayed up late to watch the final, teenagers who saw him as their inspiration, adults who had waited years for this moment, and elderly supporters who had thought they might never see Utrecht win a trophy.

"Can I have your autograph?" asked a young girl, probably no more than ten years old, holding out a Utrecht scarf. "I want to show my friends at school that I met you."

"Of course," Amani replied, taking the scarf and a pen that someone offered. As he signed his name, he noticed that the girl was wearing a shirt with his number and name on the back.

"You’re my favorite player," she said shyly. "My dad says you’re going to be the best player in the world someday."

"Just remember to keep practicing," Amani told her. "Dreams can come true if you work hard enough."

A middle-aged man stepped forward, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "My father died three years ago," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "He supported Utrecht his whole life, never saw them win anything. Yesterday, when you scored that goal, I felt like he was there with me, celebrating. Thank you for that."

The emotional weight of the man’s words hit Amani like a physical force. This wasn’t just about football - it was about families, about memories, about connections that transcended the game itself.

"I’m sure he was there," Amani replied softly. "And I’m sure he was proud."

As he tried to continue his run, more people seemed to appear from nowhere. Shop owners emerged from their stores, offering him free goods. A florist pressed a bouquet into his hands. A café owner insisted he take a free coffee and pastries. A clothing store manager offered him anything from the shop.

"You don’t understand," said the café owner, a woman in her forties with tears in her eyes. "My whole family was at De Kuip yesterday. My children, my parents, my brothers and sisters. When you scored that goal, we all hugged each other and cried. You gave us a memory that will last forever."

The generosity was overwhelming, but it was the emotion behind it that truly moved Amani. These weren’t just fans offering gifts to a successful player - these were people expressing gratitude for a moment of pure joy that had brought their community together.