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Chapter 10 – The New Breed (600 words)
The locker room was quiet. Not tense—focused. Jerseys hung on hooks. Tactical magnets clicked against a whiteboard behind the coach. João sat, knees bouncing. His new green-and-white kit felt stiff. Not broken in yet.
Coach Andrade paced the front of the room, tapping a finger against the board.
"Braga presses in waves. Their midfield locks the half-spaces. You try to dribble through, you'll get swallowed."
He turned.
"That's why we're not looking for runners today. We need breakers."
His eyes landed on João.
"Your job is to disappear. Create a pause in their pattern. Let them collapse — then open them up."
João met his gaze, sharp and steady.
"Understood."
Andrade nodded. "You've got sixty minutes. Show us something new."
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The pitch buzzed with energy. Cameras. Scouts. A few Sporting seniors were watching from the upper balcony. Even the wind felt hostile.
The whistle blew.
João drifted.
The ball didn't touch his feet for the first four minutes — by design. He wasn't there to receive. He was there to bend shape.
Braga played like a fist. Tight, compact, hard pressing. Every mistake is punished instantly. Twice, Sporting nearly lost it at the back. The crowd murmured.
Then João moved.
He broke from the left flank, dragging a defender two meters wide. As he did, the winger dipped central and received an unmarked pass.
Next phase: João inverted. Came deep, shadowing the pivot. He didn't call for it. He just existed in the blind spots. The center-back hesitated. That half-second hesitation?
Ball stolen. João turned. Two passes later — Sporting broke the line.
The bench stood.
The coaches started shouting.
Now he had their attention.
He wasn't scoring. He wasn't sprinting. But he was orchestrating.
Fifteen minutes in, he finally touched the ball. A glance over his shoulder — then a heel flick into the path of the overlapping fullback. The bench clapped.
Next sequence: he decoyed a pressing midfielder just by opening his body. No dribble. No trick. Just posture.
Space opened behind.
Braga started shouting at each other.
By the 25th minute, João was dictating tempo like a conductor. Every time the ball passed near him, the field shifted. Wingers were freed. Midfielders began to trust their passes more. They felt João's gravity even when he wasn't touching the ball.
But then — minute 32.
Braga struck.
A counter. One bad turnover in midfield. João tried to recover, but he wasn't fast enough. 1–0.
The stadium buzzed. Coach Andrade paced hard, frustrated.
João stood at midfield, breathing hard. For all the spacing, all the flow — the scoreline didn't care. He needed a moment. A proof.
Minute 40.
Sporting pressed high. João hung just behind the forward line. A Braga center-back took one extra touch. João pounced — cut the passing lane.
Stole it.
He surged forward, shoulder brushing against the last defender. Then — not a shot. Not a flashy pass.
A reverse ball. Subtle. Weighted.
The striker buried it.
1–1.
João didn't celebrate. He jogged back into position, eyes scanning. Braga's shape had snapped. Now came the moment of truth.
Minute 44.
He found the gap again. Same run. Same fade-out. The pass came. He let it run through his legs — defenders frozen.
The winger cut in.
Goal.
2–1.
Halftime whistle.
Sporting jogged off with the lead.
João walked more slowly. Breathing steadily. Not just a system now.
A weapon.
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In the locker room, Coach Andrade pointed at the tactics board again.
"Midfield triangle?" he asked, tapping near the top.
The players hesitated.
João stood. Pointed to the gap he'd used twice in four minutes.
"You compress their press here," he said. "Draw their six forward. Once he steps, this pocket behind him opens. Every time."
Andrade looked at him for a moment.
Then erased the magnets.
"We build around that."
Silence.
Then a nod.
The room shifted.
João wasn't the outsider anymore.
He was the new breed.
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