THE JERSEY

I didn't steal it. I found it.

It was a dirty, red Bayern Munich jersey lying on the train seat after the Stuttgart match. Number 9, Kane. It smelled like beer and rain.

I was going to give it to lost-and-found, but I was cold, so I wore it.

That night, weird things started happening.

I was playing FIFA with my friend. I am terrible. I always lose 4-0. But with that jersey on, I won 7-1. Every shot went in. My hands were moving by themselves.

Next day I wore it to our small street football game. I'm the guy who usually stays in defense because I have no pace. But that day, I scored a bicycle kick. A real bicycle kick. I have never done it in my life.

My friends looked at me like I was a ghost.

On the third day, I decided to return it. I felt guilty. I went back to the train station to drop it at the office.

An old man was there crying. He was maybe 70. He said, "I lost my son's jersey. He gave it to me before he moved to Canada. It was his lucky jersey from his first Bayern game."

It was the same jersey. Same stain on the number 9.

I gave it back. He hugged me and said, "My son always said this jersey had magic, but you have to pass the magic on."

I walked home feeling light. That evening, my friend called me.

"Yo, you want to play again?"

I said yes. I wasn't wearing the jersey.

I still won 7-1.

Maybe it was never the jersey.