Neymar is currently playing with a meniscus injury in his knee which will require surgery at the end of the season.
Doctors told him not to play on but Santos were in a relegation battle.
He’s just scored a 17 minute hat-trick to give Santos safety.
#ProjectAfrica Day 209-211:
Day 209: 60.1km
Day 210: 37.1km
Day 211: 51.8km
Total raised for charity: £77,397
You see me yeah. Mashed up differently right now. I look in the mirror I see a few things have changed in the last 211 days. Head is a jungle. Body is a wafer thin slice of tesco value ham.
When you close your eyes you see the insides of your eyelids. When I close mine I see tarmac. I hear 10 tonne trucks making a b-line for my skull. I feel 38 degree sun cooking my soul.
I wake up and it was all just a dream? No. The garmin says 0 on it again. Back on road. How can this be? Too many questions. Sometimes I feel like I know what’s going on, then I realise, I know nothing.
The world famous game of life girls & boys. What a way🫡
#ProjectAfrica Day 107: 60km
Gonna be honest the last few days have probably been some of the toughest of my life.
On day 102 I was separated from the boys & the support van after some impassable roads in the planned route.
In an attempt to find the boys at a village on the plan B route, I stumbled into a rural settlement where the chief told me I must give him money. I had none. So that went down well.
Pretty soon I found myself surrounded by lots of game blokes with machetes. Was escorted out the village into the bush. Mind was racing. I’ve heard the horror stories. Thought I might be about to become one. Emptied my bag to show I had nothing but a half eaten biscuit. Gave it to them, and ran.
Spent the next few hours bushwhacking through overgrown jungle paths. Trying to stay off any tracks until I was far away. Made it to the village on the plan B route to find the road was also impassable for the support van again.
Exhausted and dehydrated, I started heading back to the last known place with passable roads when 2 blokes pulled up on a motorbike. They spoke no English but tried to communicate I must come with them to get back to my friends.
As you can imagine, I was extremely reluctant. I also had no money, food, water, signal, data, or knowledge of where the boys were. Was growing increasingly concerned that I wouldn’t find any of these things before sunset.
So I decided my best bet was to trust that the boys had sent these guys to bring me to them. What happened next was a 7 hour motorbike ride deeper into the jungle. In my head I thought this was it. Me. The self proclaimed hardest geezer. About to get held in a Congo gulag before being ripped apart limb by limb and eaten.
So yeah. That was some going. Eventually I rolled into a village late in the evening where I was taken into a hut, and lots of men argued about what to do with me and talked about how much money I owe them (still had none).
Then the acting chief who spoke small amounts of English came, and we managed to iron things out. Get French speaking Harry on the phone, and find that this was a misunderstanding. The boys spent the next couple days trying to get together a rescue plan through some of the worst roads I’ve ever seen. Bring some money for these people, and get me back.
We made it out. And travelled back to the start point of day 102, where I ran 60km today on our new route. My head ain’t fully there right now. But we move the same way as always, forward🫡