🚨🤍 𝗡𝗘𝗪: Yan Diomande emotional letter to his late sister:
"Dear Roxane,
Remember when somebody bought me a fake United jersey, and I wrote Ronaldo 7 on the back with the black marker?"
"We didn’t know rich or poor. We just knew happiness."
"Remember 25 people sleeping in one house back in Abidjan? Mum wanted to watch her soap operas. Everyone else wanted to watch movies. Remember how I always used to fake like I was asleep and then go into the TV room after midnight? I’d put the TV on real low. Just like 2 volume bars. I’d watch football in the dark and dream."
"Remember when the adults saw me playing football in the dirt and nicknamed me “Roberto Carlos” because of how hard I would shoot? And remember how I was secretly 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, all the way near the Ghana border. Just a little boy on his own. I don’t know if I ever told you this story, but me and the other kids used to go into the village and steal potatoes because we were so hungry. We did a “bank heist.” Two kids distracting the shop owner, and 18 other kids running out with two potatoes. They weren’t even good. But they tasted amazing. Hahahah. It’s still my favorite thing to eat. Boiled potatoes with some oil. It reminds me of those times."
"Remember when I got my first real football boots, and I used to sleep 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 would come back home, and you would tell my friends from the neighborhood, “Why did you stop training? Yan is not going to buy you cars. You have to keep working."
"You were 10 years old, and already my agent."
"Remember how we used to sit and dream about moving to France? How we were going to go shopping and get our own apartment and I was going to be a rich footballer with cars and a big house, and you wouldn’t have to worry about nothing. You were the one who always believed that I could be the next Cristiano, when everybody else laughed."
"Remember when I moved to America for high school at 15, and I was so homesick? I didn’t know what anybody was saying for months. They sat me next to a French kid, and he tried to translate everything the teacher was saying. Remember when I called you, saying, “You won’t believe it, the kids here argue with teachers."
"Back home, you know we wouldn’t even dare to blink at our elders."
"Remember when I couldn’t believe the kids were smoking after school? You used to say it sounded like I was in an American TV show."
"Remember when they took me on trial at Bournemouth? At Chelsea, Rangers, Olympiacos, Crystal Palace? Eze and Olise even came up to me after one training and said, “Yo kid, you’re really good.”"
"But they still didn’t sign me."
"Even the B teams in the MLS 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 around Europe, and everybody kept saying no."
"My visa was up. My dream was over. They sent me back to Africa, and we cried together."
"You were the one who never stopped believing. A few weeks later, I signed for Leganés and we cried different tears."
"That was back when I used to have emotions. Now, I don’t feel anything. It’s like I’m not even human. Since you died, I’m just blank."
"I don’t even think I shed a tear the day they told me that you were gone. I was just in shock."
"It was a few weeks after I made my debut for Leganés. Who makes their debut at 18 against Real Madrid? It was too crazy. It was a dream."
"And then it was a nightmare. Someone kept calling me from back home. I was annoyed. I didn’t understand why they kept calling me."
"I picked up, and they didn’t even soften it. You know how it is back home. No emotions. Just……..
“Your sister is gone.”
“What?”
“She died.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Somebody put something in her drink at a party, and she never woke up. She is gone.”
"You were 15."
"15."
"I never got any answers. I don’t know if I want to know why. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it’s just something that happens in our country. Maybe I could have protected you. I don’t know."
"I try to trust God’s plan. It’s all I can do. I don’t try to forget, because I know I won’t forget. All I can do is use the pain to work harder, and to do everything we dreamed about."
"I wrote this because I can’t speak about it. I wrote this because I want you to know that I will make sure that you live on. I will make sure that everybody knows your name. The whole world."
"Everything I do on a football pitch, it’s for you."
"So much has happened since I last saw you…… You would not even believe it. I don’t know if I believe it."
"You know what’s crazy? After my debut against Madrid, I actually swapped shirts with Mbappé. Remember when we used to watch him on TV, and you’d say, “Mbappé? Yeah, he’s good. But my brother is better.”
"I was wrong about one thing. I don’t want to be rich. I see what it does to people, even to family. When I was at Leganés, everything I was earning, I was sending home. It got to the point where I didn’t even want money anymore. It was just a burden. They never stopped asking. I guess they thought I was a millionaire already. I didn’t even have an apartment. I was living at the training ground in a room with no TV. Just football and sleep, football and sleep."
"I didn’t want a big house. I didn’t want cars. I just wanted to put everything into football. Everything to show the world that my sister was right……."
"Ha…. you will think this is funny. When I moved to play at RB Leipzig, I was always late. Well, not late. But I was on time, which in Germany means you’re very late."
"So you already know what I did next. I started arriving 90 minutes early to everything. I was so early all the time that the guys started calling me “The German.”"
"I always have to overdo everything. I have zero chill. You always said that."
"The pitch is the only place that I feel at home anymore. It’s the place where I feel calm, and I can speak to you. I just wish you were still here so I could tell you….. We did it."
"Everything you said came true."
"We’re leaving for the World Cup tomorrow. For real. Your brother is going to play for Côte d'Ivoire, like Drogba, like Yaya, like Gervinho."
"I don’t even look at it like a game. I look at it like a stage. This is my chance to show the whole world what you saw in me. Every time I score, I’ll make sure everybody knows your name. I’ll make sure they don’t forget you."
"You always said that I could be better than Cristiano. If I see him there, I’ll tell him hello for you."
"I’m going to do what you predicted, I swear. Before I even had real boots, you were telling everybody, “My brother is going to be the greatest in the world.”
"I will prove that you were right, or I will die trying... Your brother, Yan."
— @PlayersTribune
Best clip I’ve ever seen in my life 😭
— Tries to send it into the stands… somehow goes backwards
— Switches feet and blasts a rocket straight at the bloke in front 😂
— Has another go (he ducks this time) and sends it OUT the stadium
DJI Mavic 3 Pro flying over Mt Everest (8848.86 m). The drone ascended ~3,500 meters from the base camp to the summit of the highest mountain in the world.
I found my father in his old recliner, a warm soda still in his hand and his police scanner buzzing loud static that shook the whole room.
I did not cry. I just reached over and finally turned the scanner off.
For most of my life, that noise was the sound of my anger.
My dad was a retired firefighter named Robert Hale. He was tough, quiet, and stubborn in a way that made every argument feel like pushing a wall. After my mom died, he became even quieter. He stayed in that chair every day, listening to the county radio like he still worked the job.
I work in a big architectural firm in Chicago. I spend my days drawing shiny buildings and clean lines that touch the sky. Everything in my world is planned, silent, and perfect.
Coming home felt messy. Seeing him stuck in the past felt worse.
"I just wish he would move on," I once told my wife. "He cannot accept that his career is over."
I understand now that I was wrong.
Three days after the funeral, I was cleaning out my childhood home. The place smelled like dust, pine cleaner, and my dad’s old flannel shirts. When I picked up the police scanner to throw it into a donation box, I saw a notebook sitting under it.
It was not a diary. It was a log.
Nov 3, 2022. 11:15 PM. 18 Willow Lane. Ms. Parker. Heater not working. Code 4.
Jan 7, 2023. 9:00 AM. The Ramirez boy. Flat bicycle tire. Code 4.
Sep 14, 2023. 2:30 PM. Mr. Dalton. Tree branch blocking driveway. Code 4.
I remembered that in our county, Code 4 means Everything under control.
But my dad was retired. Why was he writing these down?
I drove to Willow Lane to ask. Ms. Parker answered the door, leaning on a cane. When I told her who I was, she covered her mouth with her hands and tears filled her eyes.
"Oh, sweetheart," she said. "Your father saved me."
"Saved you?" I asked.
She nodded. "My heater broke during a snowstorm. I called 911 because I was scared. They told me it was not an emergency. Ten minutes later your dad showed up with his toolbox. He worked for hours in the cold until the heat turned back on. He told me he was sent by the department so I would not feel embarrassed. But I knew better. He was just kind."
My chest got tight. I went to the next address. And the next.
Every story was the same. Dad was not stuck in the past. He was listening for the people who slipped through the cracks.
Small problems that still broke someone’s day.
Things the city ignored or could not handle.
A tree in a driveway that would take days for the city to remove. Dad came with a chainsaw after dinner.
A child’s bike bent by a careless driver. Dad fixed it in his garage and left it on the porch without saying a word.
He did not listen to the radio to remember the job.
He listened because he wanted to help the people nobody else noticed.
When we held his funeral, I expected a few firefighters, a folded flag, and the traditional bell for the Last Call.
I did not expect the crowd.
The church was packed wall to wall. People I had never seen stood shoulder to shoulder. A young father with oil on his hands from his job at the garage. An older woman with a baby on her hip. A veteran in a wheelchair.
They did not know Captain Hale.
They knew the man in the flannel shirt who showed up when life got too heavy to lift alone.
That night, after everyone went home, I returned to the empty house. I sat in my father’s recliner and held the notebook again. A small yellow note slipped out.
In his shaky handwriting, it said:
"Leo, if you found this, I did not finish everything. Mrs. Carter on 5th Street has loose porch steps. Fix them for me. You always had steady hands."
I stared at the quiet room. Then I looked at the police scanner.
I turned it on.
The static filled the air. Then a voice said, "Minor flooding reported on Elm Street. Assistance requested."
I stood up. I took off my watch. I rolled up my sleeves. I grabbed his old toolbox.
"Thanks, Dad," I whispered. "I hear you. I am going."
I've been a doctor since 1991. I've seen enough of my colleagues kill themselves because of the stress of this work to have zero f**ks left to give in dealing with people who abuse and malign us.
I qualified in London, worked as a medical SHO until 1995, eventually completed GP training in 1999, worked as a GP, initially locum then partner, until 2012. Then moved to Australia and became a rural generalist. I now work predominantly in the emergency, ward and HDU of a busy remote hospital, dealing with patients with the highest morbidity on the planet.
I have seen medical practice evolve. There are no 80 hour weekends for internal medicine residents anymore, but the intensity of the work has increased, the complexity has increased, the expectations have increased, the blame dumping onto juniors has increased, the general mindless bullshit has increased and the pay and conditions have got exponentially worse.
Resident doctor in a busy hospital remains one of the physically and emotionally toughest jobs in the world. People who think it's a 'job like any other job' have no f***ing idea.
Pay the residents what they are worth - which is a lot more than the BMA is asking for - and improve their conditions out of all recognition or watch them leave the profession or leave the country.
Then all you whiners will be whining your pathetic little hearts out about how there is no-one competent left to look after you. And you will deserve it.
It's your choice.
For context (obviously this is a different healthcare system) this is advanced endo procedures Prof Adler is talking about in 4 mths. In the UK a GI resident is struggling to get this number of basic endo procedures in 4 years of training. That is not a typo @BSGTrainees
@BladeoftheS The problem is the government are not funding enough training places but they are opening new medical schools. So you have an increasing number of doctors unable to progress and trapped at a junior level. Suspect Gov hopes they will carry out service provision for £40k a year
@witchdrkochi @Joe_Sutton92 @DrLukeCraddock Yes it does sound wild. Cardiothoracic’s is a small speciality though, and there are a decent number of surgeons who have completed their training and are struggling to find a consultant job
🚨BREAKING: You can now build an iOS app with one sentence with GPT-5.
Rork can build, design, and ship iOS apps from a single sentence.
People are already calling it the future of mobile development.
Here are 9 insane examples so far (Don't miss the 5th one):