The warmup told the story before the match even began. Instituto Atlético Nacional's academy players moved through their drills with mechanical precision—passing combinations that flowed like choreography, technical work that looked effortless because it had been practiced ten thousand times. Their touches were clean, their movement synchronized, their body language showing the casual confidence of a team that knew exactly what they were capable of.
On the opposite side of the pitch, Montevideo went through their own routine. Some players executed their movements with the same focus they'd shown against Los Pinos. Others—Esteban, Pereira, even Robles for a moment—kept glancing toward Nacional's half, their eyes betraying awareness of the gap they were facing. Not fear exactly. Recognition.
Che moved through warmup drills beside Cabrera, his new boots already broken in after the first match but still feeling new enough to remind him of where they'd come from. His first touch stayed clean, his passes weighted correctly, but his attention kept drifting to Nacional's players. The System was already tracking them, analyzing movement patterns, cataloging tendencies.
"They're really good," Cabrera said quietly, following Che's gaze.
"Yeah."
"Like, way better than Los Pinos."
"I know."
Cabrera's voice carried something between nervousness and determination. "But we can still compete, right?"
Che turned to look at his teammate. Cabrera's expression showed he needed the reassurance, needed someone to confirm that the gap wasn't insurmountable. Che understood—he'd felt the same thing watching academy players train through those windows days ago.
"We can compete," Che said, and his voice carried certainty even if he didn't completely feel it yet. "They're better technically. But we've got a plan. We execute it, stay disciplined, we'll have chances."
The attendance had grown from the first match. Maybe eighty people now scattered across the stands—some family members from both teams, some locals curious about Nacional's academy prospects, and a handful who'd come specifically to watch Montevideo after hearing about the four-nil victory.
Two women sat together near the halfway line, one holding a program. "That's the team that won four-nil two days ago?"
"Montevideo, yeah. People are saying their striker scored all four goals."
"Against who?"
"Los Pinos. Not the strongest team in the group, but still—four-nil is impressive."
"I want to see if it was real or just lucky." The woman folded her program. "Nacional will test them properly."
The referee gathered both captains for the coin toss. Matías and Nacional's captain—a tall midfielder with the composed bearing of someone who'd been training at academy level for years—met at the center circle. Montevideo won the toss and chose to receive.
MATCH: Montevideo vs. Instituto Atlético Nacional
Tournament: Under-16 High School Championship - Group C
MONTEVIDEO (4-2-3-1):
GK: Rodríguez
RB: Esteban | CB: Fernández | CB: Álvarez | LB: Pereira
CDM: Robles | CDM: Vargas
RM: Cabrera | CAM: Che Hernandez | LM: Silva
ST: Benítez
NACIONAL (4-3-3):
GK: Vega
RB: Quintana | CB: Méndez | CB: Sosa | LB: Peralta
CDM: Figueroa
CM: Cardoso | CAM: Suárez
RW: Oliveira | ST: Ibarra | LW: Costa
The referee raised his whistle and blew it once.
Benítez touched the ball back to Che at the center circle. The attacking midfielder took one touch and immediately played it backward to Vargas. The defensive midfielder controlled it, looked up briefly to assess Nacional's press, then passed it all the way back to Rodríguez.
The goalkeeper collected it inside his penalty area and immediately launched it long toward Nacional's half—a clearance rather than an attempt at buildup, the ball sailing over midfield and bouncing near the halfway line where Méndez won the header easily.
Nacional had possession. Their real possession.
Méndez headed it to Figueroa, the defensive midfielder who dropped deep to collect. His first touch was perfect—the ball sticking to his boot like it was magnetized. He turned smoothly, facing forward, and Nacional's shape adjusted around him. Cardoso and Suárez positioned themselves at different depths, creating passing angles. The wingers pushed high, stretching Montevideo's defensive line.
Montevideo's shape compressed immediately. Robles and Vargas dropped into the space between defense and midfield. Che moved laterally to stay compact with his teammates. The entire team shifted toward the ball, reducing space, forcing Nacional to work for every meter.
But Nacional didn't rush. Figueroa played it to Cardoso, who took one touch and passed it to Suárez. The attacking midfielder received it facing his own goal, turned smoothly, and found Oliveira on the right wing. The winger's first touch took him forward, and Pereira had to step out from his left-back position to challenge.
Oliveira didn't try to dribble past him. He just played it inside to Cardoso, who had continued his run after the initial pass. One-two combination, simple but effective, and suddenly Cardoso was in space fifteen meters inside Montevideo's half.
They move the ball faster, Che thought, tracking back to help defend. Way faster than Los Pinos.
Cardoso played it forward to Ibarra, who had dropped from his striker position to create a passing option between Montevideo's midfield and defensive lines. The forward's back was to goal, Fernández pressing him from behind, but Ibarra's first touch was clean. He shielded the ball, turned his head to scan for options, and played it backward to Suárez.
The attacking midfielder was arriving from deeper, unmarked because Che had been tracking Cardoso's movement. Suárez took one touch to set himself, now twenty meters from goal with space ahead. Robles stepped forward to challenge, closing the distance, but Suárez had already seen his next move.
He played it wide to Costa on the left, the winger receiving it in space behind Esteban's positioning. The right-back had to sprint back desperately, trying to recover, but Costa had momentum. The winger drove toward the byline, and Álvarez had to make a decision—step out to challenge Costa or hold his position and protect the center.
He held too long. Costa reached the byline and cut the ball back toward the penalty spot with the outside of his right boot. The delivery was dangerous, aimed at the space between Montevideo's center-backs where Oliveira was arriving from the right.
Fernández tried to step across, cutting off the passing lane, but the ball was moving too fast. It reached Oliveira, and the winger struck it first time with his right foot from eight meters out.
Rodríguez dove, getting a hand to it, but the power was too much. The ball deflected off his palm and crossed the line before spinning back out.
Nacional 1 - 0 Montevideo
Five minutes. They'd conceded in the first five minutes.
Oliveira turned toward the corner flag, arms raised, his celebration measured but confident. His teammates jogged toward him—quick acknowledgments, professional, like this was expected. Their small section of supporters applauded, but the noise wasn't overwhelming. This was routine for them.
Montevideo's players didn't collapse. Fernández was the first to move, calling out to his defensive line. "Stay compact! Nothing changes!"
Álvarez nodded, positioning himself for the restart. Robles and Vargas exchanged a look—acknowledgment that they'd been beaten but not an acceptance that it would keep happening. Even Rodríguez, who'd just conceded, was organizing his defense with sharp commands.
Che stood near the center circle, processing what had just happened. The goal had come from a sequence that started forty meters from Nacional's goal and ended with a clinical finish. Ten passes, maybe fifteen seconds of possession, executed with precision that showed the difference between academy training and school-level development.
But they hadn't been torn apart. The goal came from one defensive decision—Álvarez hesitating instead of stepping to Costa immediately—and clinical execution. Not a systemic collapse. A mistake and a finish.
The System had tracked the entire sequence, breaking down Nacional's movement patterns, their passing combinations, the spaces they'd exploited.
GOAL ANALYSIS - Nacional Opening Score
Build-up passes: 11
Time from winning possession to goal: 18 seconds
Key weakness exploited: Álvarez's delayed decision on Costa's penetration
Individual quality: Oliveira's first-time finish (A-grade execution)
SYSTEM NOTE: Nacional's technical superiority evident in ball circulation speed and first-touch quality. However, goal resulted from single defensive error rather than sustained pressure. Defensive shape held until final decision. Maintain structure, eliminate individual mistakes, counter-attacking opportunities will appear.
Montevideo kicked off with the score against them. Benítez touched it to Che, who immediately played it back to Vargas. The defensive midfielder took one touch and found Robles, who passed it backward to Álvarez.
Nacional pressed high immediately, their front three pushing forward with coordinated timing. But Montevideo circulated it calmly—Álvarez to Fernández to Rodríguez, who launched another long clearance toward the halfway line.
This time, the message was different. They'd conceded early, but they weren't panicking. The plan remained the same: defend compact, absorb pressure, wait for mistakes, explode on the counter.
Nacional won the header again and began building possession with the same patient precision. Figueroa to Cardoso to Suárez. The ball moved across their backline, probing for gaps in Montevideo's defensive shape. When none appeared, they reset and tried a different angle.
Montevideo's players were focused now. The early goal had eliminated any lingering nerves, had clarified exactly what they were facing. This was the level. This was what academy teams looked like. And if they wanted to compete, they'd need to execute everything perfectly.
No more hesitation. No more uncertainty. Just discipline and belief that their approach could work even when trailing against opponents who were technically superior in almost every way.