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CHAPTER 52 — "The Weight of Expectation" (Part 1)
Date: April 12, 2020
Competition: São Paulo State U-15 League
Match: São Paulo FC U-15 vs Santos U-15
Árman Azevedo — Age: 10
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The air felt different.
Not heavier.
Not tense.
Sharper.
Árman felt it the moment he stepped off the bus.
The Santos training ground stretched wide under the afternoon sun, the grass slightly darker than Morumbi's pitch, thicker, slower. A coastal wind brushed across the field, carrying the distant smell of salt and sea.
This was São Paulo's fourth match of the U-15 league.
And Santos was not Palmeiras.
Not Flamengo.
Santos was… Santos.
A club that lived and breathed attackers.
A club where dribblers were born, not taught.
A club that did not fear prodigies — it produced them.
Neymar's shadow still loomed here.
Árman adjusted his boots quietly.
No nerves.
No excitement.
Just focus.
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Pre-Match — The Locker Room
The locker room buzzed with restrained energy.
Players taped their ankles.
Pulled on socks.
Exchanged light jokes to calm themselves.
Coach Carvalho stood at the whiteboard, marker tapping twice before he spoke.
"Santos will press high. Their midfield rotates aggressively. Their right side is fast — very fast."
He looked up.
"Árman."
"Yes, coach."
"You're free today. Drift where you need. Draw them out."
Árman nodded.
Simple instructions.
Clear trust.
By now, the team no longer looked at him like a curiosity.
They looked at him like a solution.
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Kickoff — First Touches
The referee's whistle cut through the air.
Santos kicked off.
The ball moved quickly — one touch, two touches — sharp triangles through midfield.
Árman didn't chase.
He watched.
He counted.
Steps.
Angles.
Body orientation.
They overload the right half-space.
Their pivot drops late.
The left back leaves space behind him.
Information stacked calmly in his mind.
In the 4th minute, the ball finally came to him.
Raulzinho — São Paulo's central midfielder — played a short pass under pressure.
Árman received it with his back to goal.
Instantly, a Santos defender was on him.
Shoulder tight.
Studs scraping grass.
The crowd murmured.
But the ball didn't move.
It stayed.
As if attached.
Árman shifted his weight, dropped his center of gravity, and rolled the ball half a step sideways — just enough.
The defender lunged.
Too much.
Árman turned.
Gasps rippled through the stands.
"Look at that ball protection," the commentator exclaimed.
"He's ten years old — but his balance, his composure… it's unnatural."
Árman slid a calm pass forward and moved again.
Always moving.
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Growing Pressure
Santos began pressing harder.
Two players.
Then three.
They tried to suffocate him early — to make a statement.
Árman welcomed it.
In the 11th minute, he dropped deeper than usual.
A Santos midfielder followed.
That was the mistake.
Árman let the ball run across his body.
One touch.
Second touch.
Then — acceleration.
Not explosive.
Deceptive.
The defender stumbled.
Árman drove forward and slipped a pass between center-back and fullback.
Lucas Ferreira burst into space.
Shot.
Saved.
Applause echoed anyway.
Coach Carvalho exhaled slowly.
"He's pulling them apart," he muttered.
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First Goal — 17th Minute
The breakthrough came quietly.
A recycled corner.
Ball back to midfield.
Árman received again — this time facing the pitch.
He scanned once.
Left winger marked.
Striker covered.
Right channel… open.
He didn't rush.
A feint left.
The Santos pivot shifted.
That was enough.
Árman threaded the pass.
Perfect weight.
Perfect timing.
He didn't watch.
He moved.
The return ball came faster than expected.
Árman met it just outside the box.
One touch to set.
Second touch — strike.
Low.
Clean.
Inside the post.
GOAL.
The net rippled sharply.
For half a second, there was silence.
Then —
"GOOOOOOOL!"
The São Paulo bench exploded.
Árman didn't celebrate wildly.
He simply nodded, jogging back.
But inside—
A good start.
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Santos Responds
They didn't panic.
They adapted.
Santos shifted to man-marking.
Every time Árman moved, someone followed.
Arms tugged.
Bodies leaned.
The referee let play continue.
In the 25th minute, a Santos winger broke free.
Shot.
Saved.
Rebound.
Cleared.
Momentum shifted.
For ten minutes, Santos pushed.
Árman dropped back again — helping defensively, intercepting lanes, slowing tempo.
Not flashy.
Effective.
Coach Carvalho noticed.
"He understands game rhythm already," he said quietly.
"That's rare."
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Second Goal — 38th Minute
Fatigue crept into Santos' press.
Tiny delays.
Tiny gaps.
Árman felt it.
A loose clearance landed near midfield.
He controlled it mid-stride.
Two defenders closed.
He didn't dribble.
He waited.
The moment one defender committed—
Árman burst through the space between them.
The crowd rose instinctively.
He entered the box at an angle.
Goalkeeper stepped out.
Árman chipped.
Soft.
Perfect.
The ball floated.
Dropped.
Goal.
Two goals.
Before halftime.
The Santos goalkeeper slammed the ground.
The crowd roared.
Even neutral fans stood.
"Unbelievable composure!"
"This isn't just talent — this is understanding!"
Árman jogged back again, chest steady, breathing controlled.
Stay calm.
This match isn't finished.
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Halftime Whistle
The whistle blew.
São Paulo led 2–0.
Players gathered around Árman instinctively.
Not because he demanded it.
Because he anchored them.
Coach Carvalho spoke firmly:
"They'll come harder in the second half. Faster transitions. More fouls."
He looked at Árman.
"You control the pace."
Árman nodded.
"I will."