For all my Madridistas out there reading this: Iker Casillas

You sat in a Spanish national team jersey as you watched the match unfold in front of you. Your sister had been given two tickets to the international friendly and planned to use them for her son's birthday. Unfortunately for her, work popped up and she couldn't go to the game. You offered to bring your nephew to the game for her and she gave you the go ahead to do so.

She had gotten great seats, having won the tickets at an auction at her work. You and your nephew sat right behind the goal. The match was an international friendly between Spain and Lithuania, and Spain was leading by a 2-0 margin at half time. Your family were avid football supporters. Having been born and raised in Madrid, you were a Madridista by birth.

Your sister hadn't shared the same passion for the beautiful game that you and your father did, but your nephew did. He was arguably the biggest Iker Casillas fan in the whole world and he had always wanted to see his hero in person. He had on the Casillas jersey you had bought him for his birthday and cheered whenever Casillas kept a ball out of the net.

During the first half, you and your nephew were closest to the Lithuanian goalie, disappointing your nephew until you reminded him that Iker Casillas would be standing between the sticks in front of you guys the second half. He looked star struck when Casillas jogged over to the net before the second half started. Tugging your shirt sleeve, you bent down so that your nephew could whisper something in your ear. "That's Iker Casillas, the Iker Casillas," he told you, his eyes filled with amazement.

You smiled and nodded. The second half started up and Spain was immediately on the attack. The Lithuanian goal keeper grabbed the ball and punted it to the Lithuanian midfield who took off. Spain was on the defensive but you nor your nephew were worried that. The Lithuanian striker came in from the right and charged for the center.

Ramos got the ball but the Lithuanian striker flopped all over the place, causing the referee to stop play. "What! Are you blind ref?! That was a clean tackle!" your nephew shouted, making you crack a smile. He had been watching too many games with his grandfather, your dad, who like to shout at the TV screen during the matches after a bad call.

A penalty kick was awarded and Ramos was show a yellow card, which continued to upset the Spanish fans, who pretty much dominated the stadium. Iker Casillas stood on his line, preparing himself mentally for the penalty kick. The ref blew the whistle and the Lithuanian player stepped forwards, kicking the ball toward the bottom left corner. But, the ball was stopped by Iker's hand, and rolled out of bounds, away from the goal, as the stadium burst into cheers.

Your nephew hopped up and down in his seat. He could barely contain his excitement in his small body. "I can't wait to see him make saves like that at Real Madrid next year," he smiled. You, and the rest of your family, hadn't told your nephew that Iker Casillas, his idol, wasn't returning to Real Madrid next year. It would crush his heart, but you decided it was best to tell him now, before someone else in the stadium blurted it out.

"(Y/N/N), he won't be at Real Madrid next year," you eased into the conversation, glancing at the clock. There was ten minutes left in the match, plus extra time. If you planned this accordingly, you wouldn't have a sobbing child on your hands until you reached the car.

"Oh don't be like those fans that keep booing him, (Y/N). He's the best goalkeeper in all of Spain, in all of Europe, in the whole wide world," your nephew dismissed.

"He's transferring," you stated.

"Those are just rumors," your nephew replied.

"No, it was confirmed this morning. Iker Casillas is moving to Porto next year," you sighed, showing your nephew the article on your phone. Grabbing your phone, your nephew looked down at the article with shock written across his features.

"But, he's been here since I was born. He can't leave now, he's the captain!"

"They wanted to replace him as the number one goalkeeper, they didn't think he was good enough," you replied, hoping that the waterworks would hold off until he was buckled into his car seat.

"Not good enough! How is he not good enough!?" your nephew growled, listing off all the awards and trophies that Iker had won in his career. "They can't replace him, he's irreplaceable," your nephew stated, still not registering that his idol wouldn't be wearing the familiar Real Madrid #1 jersey next year. He grew quiet as your phone rang. Casting your nephew one last worried glance, you answered your phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, (Y/N), it's (Y/S/N). I'm just getting off work, where are you guys?"

"The match just finished," you reported, hearing the shrill whistle echo through the stadium, followed by cheers from the Spanish side.

"Okay. I'll grab some food and you two can meet me at my place. What does (Y/N/N) want to eat?"

"Let me ask him," you said into the phone, turning to where your nephew was sitting moments ago. He was gone. Your eyes widened as you search around the area, looking frantically for him. "He wants pizza, got to go, the crowds being pushy," you lied, hanging up the phone. Standing up, you looked around the area for your nephew. "I am the worst aunt ever," you muttered. "(Y/N/N), (Y/N/N), where are you?" you shouted, looking around for the black jersey with the #1 on the back.

Seeing your nephew's familiar head, you gasped. He had somehow wiggled under the guard rail, tip toed past security, and was now running straight at Iker Casillas on the pitch. "(Y/N/N), come back here right now!" you screamed, but he ignored you. Security noticed your screaming and looked to see your nephew run up to Iker, who had stopped and bent down so that he was eye level with your nephew.

Security ran over but Iker waved them off. Unbeknownst to you or anyone else watching, your nephew and Iker had a conversation. "Don't leave Madrid, Iker. We're going to be a mess without you," your nephew pleaded, making the keeper smile.

"They'll be fine without me," he assured.

"But, you're the best goalkeeper in the world. Why would they get rid of you?"

"'Cause I'm old, apparently," the Spaniard joked, standing up. "Where's your family?"

"Oh, my aunt's in the stands. She's the lady waving her hands around like a madwoman."

"Well, let me escort you back there. But first, take this as a gift," Iker said, taking off his jersey and handing it to your nephew who looked up at him in amazement, before hugging the jersey to his chest.

"Really? I get to keep it?" your nephew asked. Iker nodded, smiling.

"It's the least I could do for my biggest fan," he said before he picked up your nephew and walked back towards the stands, your nephew resting on his hip. Climbing over the fence, he walked over to you with your nephew still in his arms. "Is that your aunt?" Iker questioned your nephew, who nodded.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into him," you apologized.

"It's no problem," Iker assured you, lifting up your nephew so that you could grab him.

"When I grow up, I want to be the Real Madrid goalkeeper, just like you, Iker," your nephew stated, which made Iker smile again.

"Dream big, buddy. I'll be sure to be there at your debut game," Iker waved before walking back over to his teammates. After he was gone, you turned to look at your nephew.

"You are in a heap of trouble, young man," you warned.

"But I got Iker Casillas's jersey. I'm Abuelito's favorite now," he pointed out.

"Well, let's just hope your mother didn't see that because then we'll both be in trouble," you muttered, walking out of the stadium, your nephew still clutching the jersey tightly in his hand.