Diogo Dalot on his daughter:
“This April, Clara had to spend some time in hospital. They had to take her blood. They put syringes in her skin. She got really traumatised. For a father to see his daughter suffer like that, it’s very difficult. Every time a nurse came into her room, she would rise up in her bed and say, “No, no, no!” The first five days, she wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her except me. If the doctors wanted to take her temperature, I had to do it. It couldn’t even be Claudia [wife].
I did not go with the team to train in Ireland. As a father, I wanted to stay at the hospital every single hour of the day.
But every day, I drove into Carrington. I trained for two hours on my own, and then I went back to the hospital. When the team was back from Ireland, I was at training on Saturday. I didn’t know if I would be selected for the game. But I’m playing for United. I had to do my job. I had to know that I had done everything I could to be ready.
Fortunately, the operation was a success, and after that my daughter only wanted mom mom mom. A week later, she was back home, watching daddy play on the TV. When she watches me, she points to the badge and says, “United! United!”
We raised her right.” ❤️
[@TPTFootball]
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His name was Srinivas Kuchibhotla.
Born in Hyderabad. His parents called him Srinu.
He came to America in 2006 for his master's. Graduated with a 3.85 GPA. Worked his way up from software engineer to aviation programs manager at Garmin in Kansas.
His manager said one thing about him. Top of his class kind of guy.
He built a home in Kansas with his wife. Painted the walls himself. Installed the garage door himself.
A few weeks before he died, they had a doctor's appointment. They were trying to start a family.
He would have turned 33 on March 9.
On February 22 2017, he and his friend Alok stopped at a bar after work to watch a basketball game. An ordinary Wednesday evening.
A man there had been watching them for weeks. Told others they looked like terrorists.
That night, he walked up to their table. Poked Srinivas in the chest. Demanded to know their immigration status. Shouted get out of my country.
Other patrons threw him out.
He drove home. Got his gun. Changed his shirt so nobody would recognise him. Came back.
He fired eight rounds.
Srinivas died that night.
As the killer fled, he told someone he had just killed two Iranians.
Srinivas was Indian. From Hyderabad. Eleven years in America. Not one complaint against him. Not one rule broken.
His mother had asked him many times to come back if he ever felt unsafe.
He always told her he was safe.
His body came home to Hyderabad in a coffin. His mother wailed as it was carried through the streets in a flower laden carriage.
She said she would not allow her younger son to go back to America.
His father said whatever was destined has happened.
The killer got three life sentences.
Srinivas got a funeral at 32.
He did everything right. Degree. Visa. Job. Taxes. Never raised his voice at anyone.
None of it was enough.
His name was Srinivas Kuchibhotla.
Every Indian in the US deserves to know it.