...So you want to give this soccer ball to the prisoner in cell 14, Mr.... ?
Santa Claus.
All right, Mr. Santa Claus.
It’s a belated present, I know. He asked for this ball when he was only eight years old. But his letter was misplaced... And I’m trying to correct the mistake. If you allow me.
I can’t imagine what organization, company or group you’re from. It’s very bold of you to come here without documents or authorization and ask to visit an inmate to give him something. There must be some trick involved... and at this time of year, we’re especially suspicious of everything, understand? What’s behind this? A plan to escape? An uprising?
Absolutely not. Only what I told you. All I do is deliver presents, that’s all. I would never be mixed up in anything else, Mr. Conrad.
Oh! So you know my name? Then you must also know that I’m very tough... and not easily fooled. Let me see the present you’ve got there, the soccer ball.
If you could please not tear the wrapping...
How can I check to see if it’s just a ball with nothing in it without tearing off the paper it’s wrapped in?
Yes. I understand. You’ve... always torn off the wrappings of presents rather... violently.
?
Well, at least you did when you were a child.
What are you talking about?
About your presents. The ones I used to bring you a long time ago. That little tin train I brought when you were, let me see, about seven. It even got a little bent when you were tugging at the ribbon and then ripped the package apart. The year after that, it was the same with those little trucks. But they were sturdy. They didn’t get bent...
Who told you all that?
No one. It’s from the reports the elves send me afterward. They help us make the toys stronger so that children with their...uh...attitudes can’t break them.
You must be joking...
I wouldn’t joke about something so wonderful... and so serious ... as filling a child’s request.
I’m not... a child...
But you were... until you stopped believing in me when you were about eleven... and started asking your father directly for what you wanted. Which was right. Natural.
But... my father never paid any attention. And you always did.
When things are part of the relationship between fathers and sons, it all depends on the understanding they have with each other.
Well, it took a long time for my father to understand. There were times when I was sorry I didn’t believe in you any more...
Uh-oh! I’m talking like I believe you’re really Santa Claus!
But isn’t that what you want to believe again?
Not now. I meant back then.
It’s always time for us to believe in the spirit of Christmas, the magic of it ... and in the power of our thoughts and wishes.
I’m here for that very reason... And, by the way, how can I see Philip... so I can deliver this ball to him?
Wait here. I’ll call him... and ... don’t pay any attention to these tears. I’m ... I’ve got a little cold (sniff)...
...
Santa Claus? You’ve gotta be kidding, man!... What’s going on?
... I know I’m very late, but... here. Your soccer ball. I hope you haven’t been too disappointed about it. After all, you asked for it when you were eight... and that was more than a dozen years ago...
Are you really Santa Claus?
Yes, I am.
Then you’ve gotta hear what happened to me, man.
Know why I asked for the soccer ball? It was so I could play in the neighborhood tournament. There was even a sponsor who said he’d give us a set of team shirts, coach us after the games and stuff like that. The guy who brought the ball would be the captain of the team. But since nobody showed up with a ball, there wasn’t any team or any tournament... so we went out and messed around with other stuff instead of sports. That’s when things started getting rough. We met some guys who were into drugs and stealing... and we started hanging out with them. Before I knew it, I was hooked. Then I got caught and now I’m paying for the stupid things I did. But some of my pals aren’t even around any more to tell their stories. They’re gone, man. In street fights, arguments, brawls ...
Hey, Santa, you’re gonna get your beard all wet with those tears... And now... after all those years... you bring me the ball of my dreams? What am I gonna do with it?
I don’t know about you, Philip, but I’d suggest a soccer tournament here, in the patio, now. It could be a Christmas championship. Something new at the prison. With the prisoners’ families allowed to come and cheer... and celebrate.
Would you allow that, warden?
Why not? And we could even invite Santa Claus here to kick it off...
Ho, ho, thank you, warden, but that won’t be possible. I have to go back to my workshop. It’s almost time to begin this year’s deliveries. I can’t stay for this wonderful tournament but I’ll be rooting for it to work out... and for the championship to end up ... in a tie. That way, no one will be disappointed, ho, ho, ho...
Okay then, Santa. And in a little while, when I get out of here, I’ll write to you again and tell you my news...
I’m studying a lot here, I’m engaged, I’m gonna get married as soon as I’m out, and when I have a kid, I’m gonna tell him my story. I dunno if he’ll believe in me... but for sure he’s gonna believe in Santa Claus.
Merry Christmas, warden. Merry Christmas, Philip. Merry Christmas to all who believe...
See you next year...
And the sky was filled with lights as the sleigh swept across the sky...
Mauricio de Sousa
