罗梅卢·卢卡库（Romelu Lukaku），这位比利时前锋是世界足坛最受关注的球星之一，却有着很多不为人知的过去。在2018世界杯开赛前，他在The Players’Tribune（《球星看台》）上撰文I've Got Some Things to Say，回忆自己过去的时光与成长的历程。
People in football love to talk about mental strength. Well, I’m the strongest dude you’re ever going to meet. Because I remember sitting in the dark with my brother and my mom, saying our prayers, and thinking, believing, knowing… it’s going to happen.
I kept my promise to myself for a while。 But then some days I’d come home from school and find my mum crying。 So I finally told her one day, “Mum, it’s gonna change。 You’ll see。 I’m going to play football for Anderlecht, and it’s going to happen soon。 We’ll be good。 You won’t have to worry anymore。”
I was six. I asked my father, “When can you start playing professional football?”
He said, “Sixteen.”
I said, “O.K., sixteen then.”
It was going to happen. Period。
Let me tell you something — every game I ever played was a Final。 When I played in the park, it was a Final。 When I played during break in kindergarten, it was a Final。 I’m dead-ass serious. I used to try to tear the cover off the ball every time I shot it. Full power。 We weren’t hitting R1, bro。 No finesse shot. I didn’t have the new FIFA. I didn’t have a Playstation. I wasn’t playing around。 I was trying to kill you.
When I started growing taller, some of the teachers and the parents would be stressing me. I’ll never forget the first time I heard one of the adults say, “Hey, how old are you? What year were you born?”
I’m like, What? Are you serious?
When I was 11 years old, I was playing for the Lièrse youth team, and one of the parents from the other team literally tried to stop me from going on the pitch. He was like, “How old is this kid? Where is his I.D.? Where is he from?”
I thought, Where am I from? What? I was born in Antwerp. I’m from Belgium.
My dad wasn’t there, because he didn’t have a car to drive to my away games。 I was all alone, and I had to stand up for myself. I went and got my I.D. from my bag and showed it to all the parents, and they were passing it around inspecting it, and I remember the blood just rushing through me… and I thought, “Oh, I’m gonna kill your son even more now。 I was already going to kill him, but now I’m gonna destroy him。 You’re gonna drive the boy home crying now。”
I wanted to be the best footballer in Belgian history. That was my goal. Not good. Not great. The best. I played with so much anger, because of a lot of things … because of the rats running around in our apartment … because I couldn’t watch the Champions League … because of how the other parents used to look at me.
I was on a mission.
When I was 12, I scored 76 goals in 34 games.
I scored them all wearing my dad’s shoes. Once our feet got to be the same size, we used to share.