REPORTER: "Can you tell us about your conversation with President Putin?"
TRUMP: "We had a great conversation. He is wanting to make a deal — and if Zelensky is wanting to make a deal, that'd be very nice."
REPORTER: "What is the holdup?"
TRUMP: "The holdup is two people that hate each other."
As Florian Wirtz was substituted during Liverpool’s draw at Newcastle United, the German midfielder sat on the bench, retrieved a bottle of dark red liquid, and began to drink cherry juice — the latest must-have supplement in elite football.
Other endurance events, especially professional cycling, have been using it for several years.
In simple terms, cherry juice targets the muscle inflammation caused by exercise, known as oxidative stress.
📝 @jwhitey98
🔗 https://t.co/glIhioAcnc
México es la tierra de los que nunca se rinden ni dejan de creer o alentar, los que trabajan duro por cada meta, los que apoyan sin dudar.
Los que sueñan sin fronteras, los que siempre están dispuestos a luchar y los que saben que con unidad, esfuerzo, fe y trabajo no hay imposibles de lograr.
Hoy es dejarlo todo dentro y fuera de la cancha como si no hubiera mañana y con la certeza de que dejamos el corazón y el alma en cada jugada y cada grito para apoyar.
Hoy el país entero se mueve, hoy el mundo vuelve a vibrar con el #SomosMéxico y más. 💚🤍❤️
🇨🇮 Yan Diomandé’s letter to his sister through @PlayersTribune:
“Dear Roxane,
Remember when someone bought me a fake United shirt, and I wrote “Ronaldo 7” on the back with a black Sharpie? We didn’t know what rich or poor was. We only knew happiness.
Remember the 25 people sleeping in just one house back in Abidjan? Mom wanted to watch her soap operas. Everyone wanted to watch movies. Remember how I’d always pretend I was asleep and then sneak to the TV room after midnight? I’d turn the TV way down low. Like, just two volume bars. I’d watch soccer in the dark and dream.
Remember when the grown-ups saw me playing soccer on the dirt and gave me the nickname “Roberto Carlos” because of how hard I kicked? And remember how I secretly got so mad about it, because CR7 was my idol?
Remember when I went to play so far from home? I was 9 years old. Inter Foot Sud Comoé, way out near the border with Ghana. Just a little boy all alone. I don’t know if I ever told you this story, but me and the other kids used to go to the village and steal potatoes because we were so hungry. We called it a “bank heist.” Two kids would distract the shop owner, and the other 18 would run off with two potatoes. They weren’t even good. But they tasted amazing. Hahahah. Even today, it’s my favorite thing to eat. Boiled potatoes with a little oil. It takes me back to those times.
Remember when I got my first real pair of cleats, and I slept with them? Growing up, I always played in those white plastic sandals. Even when I go back home now, I still play in them. It’s our tradition.
Remember when I’d come back home, and you’d tell my neighborhood friends: “Why’d you stop training? Yan’s not gonna buy you cars. You gotta keep working.” You were 10 years old, and you were already my agent.
Remember how we’d sit and dream about moving to France? How we’d go shopping, have our own apartment, and I’d be a rich soccer player, with cars and a big house, and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. You were the one who always believed I could be the next Cristiano, when everyone else was laughing.
Remember when I moved to the United States for high school, at 15 years old, and I missed home so much? For months, I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying. They sat me next to a French boy, and he’d try to translate everything the teacher said. Remember when I called you and said: “You won’t believe it, the kids here argue with the teachers.” Back home, you know, we wouldn’t even dare blink at our elders.
Remember when I couldn’t believe the boys smoked after school? You used to say it felt like I was in an American TV show.
Remember when they took me for trials at Bournemouth? At Chelsea, Rangers, Olympiacos, Crystal Palace? Eze and Olise came up to me after a training session and said: “Hey, kid, you’re really good.”… but even then, they didn’t sign me.
Even the MLS B teams didn’t want me. I didn’t even know why. They never gave me a reason. The adults handled everything. They just kept taking me all over Europe, and everyone kept saying no.
My visa expired. My dream was over. They sent me back to Africa, and we cried together. You were the only one who never stopped believing. A few weeks later, I signed with Leganés, and we cried different tears.
That was back when I still had emotions. Now, I don’t feel anything. It’s like I’m not even human. Since you died, I’m just empty.”
Me dijo "desnudate" y yo le mostré este video del cucho Hernández peleando por el balón en el momento más tenso del partido. Me puse a llorar y ella se burló. Quería ver la desnudez de mi cuerpo; yo, tonto, le mostré la desnudez de mi alma.