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Ribery's bridge
The Ribery’s bridge
Getting up a day like any other, in the routine, I wake up at 5:50 exactly to have time to take a shower every morning and get ready to go to school with my sister, my dad takes us there, everything seems to be fine, a normal day, I am still in high school. The day goes by as usual, it is time to leave school, my mother picks us up and takes us to the house to eat and afterwards take me to my soccer training, but this day was different, the night before I didn’t sleep well and was very tired, my Mom would not let me miss a single training, she believes that constancy and discipline are the basis for being a good man. After discussing a little, I managed to persuade her not to go while we finished eating, you will see, from the age of six, i play soccer and since then, I did not miss any training unless I was sick or I wasn’t in the city so it was not like the other days, always my day was summarized like this, I got up, went to school, went back to the house to eat, then my mom took me to the soccer practice and after my friends and I finish training, we would crossed an avenue to go to a store and talk, then my dad would pick me up there and take me back to the house. But that day I stayed home, I remember sleeping all the afternoon until the phone woke me up, one of my friends was calling me, I thought the reason for his call was to ask why I had missed the practice, how wrong I was about that. The reason for his call was to inform me that a friend of mine had been hit by a car by some teenager in his car after the practice and that he was dead now, after hearing this I enter into shock, I started thinking in how we always cross that avenue my friends and I, in how things could been different if I had gone to the practice, many thoughts began to drown me. Hours later I went to my first funeral, I still did not believe it, my friend was dead. I was depressed but above all, angry and frustrated because the responsible wasn’t going to pay for his acts, he was a son of a politic in the city. I started sending letters to the city hall to do something about it but in Mexico there is not such a thing like justice. After a short time, everyone seemed to lose interest, except us. the whole team and several people pressure the city hall to act, but they did not listen to us. After four years of complaining to the city hall and more accidents in that avenue they built a beautiful Pedestrian bridge, for many it has no meaning but for us, his friends, it’s a memory of a great teammate, friend and human being, some people call it Jalapa’s bridge, others President’s bridge, my friends and I we call it Ribery’s bridge.
