I would like to thank everyone who supported me to be fit for the

Host: The stadium floodlights glowed like distant suns in the night — harsh, white, unwavering. The field below lay drenched in dew and echoes — the match long finished, the crowd long gone, yet the grass still bore the marks of the battle that had taken place.

The air carried the scent of wet earth and adrenaline, that unmistakable perfume of victory and exhaustion.
Near the benches, under the shadow of a silent scoreboard, Jack sat tying and untying the laces of his boots, his hair still damp with sweat. Jeeny stood at the edge of the pitch, hands in her coat pockets, her breath misting faintly in the cool night.

Jeeny: reading softly from her phone, her tone a mixture of admiration and quiet curiosity
“Andriy Shevchenko once said, ‘I would like to thank everyone who supported me to be fit for the Euros. I had some fitness problems before the tournament, but I am here now!’”

Jack: smiling faintly, his voice rough but warm
“Ah, Shevchenko — the quiet fire. That quote sounds simple, but it carries the weight of every comeback.”

Jeeny: softly, walking closer, her eyes tracing the empty field
“Yeah. ‘I am here now.’ It sounds almost defiant. Like survival disguised as gratitude.”

Host: The stadium lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the turf. The echoes of earlier cheers seemed to hang in the air — a ghostly chorus of faith, effort, and relief.

Jack: stretching his legs, wincing slightly, smiling anyway
“People forget what fitness really means at that level. It’s not just about the body — it’s about belief. You train, you push, you tear something, and then you wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again.”

Jeeny: softly
“So when he says ‘I am here now,’ it’s not about being physically present — it’s about being restored.”

Jack: nodding, his eyes distant, remembering
“Yeah. It’s standing on the pitch after months of doubt and saying — the pain didn’t win. Not this time.”

Host: The wind moved through the stands, rattling the loose banners that still clung to the rails. Somewhere, a maintenance worker’s broom scratched softly along the concrete — a reminder that even after glory, someone still cleans the stage.

Jeeny: after a pause, her voice low
“There’s something sacred about recovery, isn’t there? It’s not as celebrated as winning, but it’s where the real courage lives.”

Jack: smiling faintly, running his thumb along the seam of his boot
“Shevchenko was a warrior. Not just for his goals, but for his resilience. People see the trophies, the headlines. They never see the rehab, the doubt, the mornings when your body refuses to cooperate.”

Jeeny: softly, with feeling
“Maybe that’s why he thanked everyone who helped him get fit. Because recovery isn’t a solo victory — it’s a collective faith.”

Jack: nodding slowly
“Exactly. Fitness, in that sense, is trust. You trust your trainers, your teammates, your own body to come back from the brink. It’s not just strength — it’s surrender and persistence at the same time.”

Host: The scoreboard flickered faintly, numbers from an earlier match still glowing — 2-1. The silence between those digits felt heavier than any noise.

Jeeny: after a long pause
“You know, that quote sounds small — just gratitude. But underneath it, there’s a whole story. The kind of pain that teaches humility. The kind of return that doesn’t need applause.”

Jack: smiling softly, eyes half-closed in thought
“Yeah. It’s a whisper, not a shout. But in that whisper is everything: pain, perseverance, and pride.”

Jeeny: with warmth
“And joy. The quiet joy of just being able to play again.”

Jack: nodding
“You don’t really appreciate movement until you lose it. You don’t realize how much of your identity lives in motion — until you’re stuck watching others do what your body used to know instinctively.”

Host: The stadium lights dimmed slightly, leaving only a few lamps burning — the afterglow of competition. The pitch glistened, green and endless, like the memory of effort itself.

Jeeny: softly, her tone turning philosophical
“So maybe his words — ‘I am here now’ — aren’t just about being fit. Maybe they’re about presence. About reclaiming your place after fear tried to erase it.”

Jack: after a moment, voice low
“Yeah. That’s the essence of every comeback — the refusal to disappear.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly
“And the gratitude that comes when you realize — just standing there is enough.”

Host: The night deepened, the sounds of the city growing faint beyond the walls. The air was cool, heavy with memory.

Jack: quietly
“You know, recovery is its own kind of art. The slow rebuilding, the silent discipline, the hope stitched into every stretch and ache. It’s the story behind the story.”

Jeeny: softly, looking at him
“And maybe that’s why it matters so much — because it’s human. Perfection doesn’t inspire people. Perseverance does.”

Jack: smiling faintly, looking out at the empty goalposts
“Shevchenko’s quote isn’t about glory — it’s about gratitude. Gratitude for pain that taught him patience, for the people who believed when he couldn’t, and for the moment when he could finally say, ‘I’m still here.’”

Host: The lights began to shut off one by one, the stadium falling into darkness, row by row, until only the moonlight remained.

And in that hush, Andriy Shevchenko’s words took on their full weight:

That resilience is quieter than victory, but deeper.
That fitness is not just the condition of the body, but the restoration of the soul.
And that being “here now” — after pain, doubt, and struggle — is the purest triumph of all.

Jeeny: softly, smiling through the dark
“Maybe that’s what being fit really means — not perfect, just ready to show up again.”

Jack: nodding, his voice tender, sure
“Yeah. To stand where you almost couldn’t — and still find joy in being present.”

Host: The wind stilled, and for a moment, everything — the field, the sky, the silence — felt aligned.

And as they walked toward the tunnel, their footsteps echoing faintly in the vast emptiness, the night seemed to whisper the truth behind the athlete’s humble words:

You don’t have to win to arrive.
You just have to return —
whole enough to say,
‘I am here now.’