“I don't think I even shed a tear the day they told me you'd passed away. I was just in shock.
It was a few weeks after my debut for Leganés. Who makes their debut at 18 against Real Madrid? It was too much madness. It was a dream… and then it turned into a nightmare. Someone kept calling me from home. I was annoyed. I didn't understand why they kept calling me.
I answered, and they didn't even soften it. You know how it is back home. No emotion. Just…
"Your sister is gone."
"What?"
"She died."
"What are you talking about?"
"Someone put something in her drink at a party, and she never woke up. She's gone."
You were 15 years old.
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 in 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 of.
I wrote this because I can't talk about it. I wrote this because I want you to know that I'll make sure you stay alive. I'll make sure everyone knows your name. The whole world.
Everything I do on a soccer field is for you.
So much has happened since the last time I saw you… You wouldn't 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'd 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 earned, I sent home. It got to the point where I didn't even want the money anymore. It was just a burden. They never stopped asking. I think they thought I was already a millionaire. I didn't even have an apartment. I lived at the training center, in a room without a TV. Just soccer and sleep, soccer and sleep.
I didn't want a big house. I didn't want cars. I just wanted to put everything into soccer. Everything to show the world that my sister was right…
Ha… you'll find this funny.
When I moved to play for RB Leipzig, I was always late. Well, not late. But I'd arrive on time, which in Germany means you're very late.
So you already know what I did after that. I started arriving 90 minutes early for everything. I got there so early all the time that the guys started calling me "The German."
I always have to overdo everything. I have no balance. You always said that. The field is the only place where I still feel at home. It's the place where I feel calm, and where I can talk to you. I just wish you were still here so I could tell you… We made it.
Everything you said came true.
We're heading to the World Cup tomorrow. For real. Your brother is going to play for Ivory Coast, like Drogba, like Yaya, like Gervinho.
I don't even see it as a game. I see it as a stage. This is my chance to show the whole world what you saw in me. Every time I score, I'll make sure everyone knows your name. I'll make sure they don't forget you.
You always said I could be better than Cristiano. If I see him there, I'll say hello for you.
I'll do what you predicted, I swear. Even before I had real cleats, you'd tell everyone: "My brother is going to be the best in the world."
I'll prove you were right, or I'll die trying.
Your brother,
Yan.”
🇨🇮 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.”