The cheers from outside the stadium reached a fever pitch. Youth coach Oscar García, acting as the referee, checked the placement of the ball in the center circle. He glanced at Sacristán and Kluivert on the sidelines, received a sharp nod, and blew his whistle.
The trial match had officially begun.
Lorenzo, leading the "Challenger" side in a blue training bib, tapped the ball back to Munir El Haddadi and immediately began his move.
The blue team didn't waste a second. Following the philosophy drilled into them since childhood, they began to weave the signature "tiki-taka" web. The ball moved with a life of its own, short, sharp passes that forced the "Established Starters" in the red bibs to work for every inch of grass.
In the red team's midfield, Sergi Samper sat deep, his eyes scanning the pitch like a veteran general.
Beside him, Lee Seung-woo, the highly touted South Korean prospect was buzzing with a nervous, aggressive energy. Lee was only fifteen, but his technical brilliance had earned him a spot among the older boys. He was desperate to prove that his flair was superior to Lorenzo's directness.
Lee Seung-woo didn't wait for the play to come to him. He pressed high, closing down Munir with a sudden burst of speed. He wanted to seize the initiative early, to show the scouts that an Asian player could lead the press as effectively as any European.
Lorenzo, meanwhile, was observing. With his "Positioning" attribute now at 70, the game felt slower, more legible. He wasn't sprinting aimlessly; he was drifting into the blind spots of the red team's center-backs. He was a ghost in the defensive line, waiting for the one crack in the armor.
Munir attempted to thread a needle-sharp pass through the middle, aiming for Lorenzo's feet. But Samper, exhibiting the "Professor" style he was known for, stepped in to intercept. He didn't just win the ball; he cushioned it and turned it into a counter-attack in one motion.
"Look at the red team's transition," Sacristán noted on the sidelines. "Samper is the anchor, but that Lee boy... he has a lot of courage."
"He has feet like a dancer," Kluivert added, his eyes narrowed as he watched Lee Seung-woo receive the ball from Samper. "But let's see what he does when the space disappears."
On the pitch, Lee Seung-woo was putting on a show. He received the ball near the center circle and immediately turned toward the blue team's goal. He bypassed a midfielder with a nimble feint and accelerated into the final third. His ball control was exquisite, his touches light and rapid.
[Wow, look at the Korean kid! He's dancing through them!]
[That's Lee Seung-woo. He's the crown jewel of the academy.]
[Meanwhile, the 'thug' from Argentina hasn't touched the ball in three minutes. Is he even awake?]
[He's just standing there. Maybe the AFA was right, he's a nobody.]
The comments on Lucia's live stream were a mix of awe for Lee and disdain for Lorenzo. To the casual observer, Lorenzo's lack of activity looked like incompetence. To a scout, it was something else entirely.
Lee Seung-woo reached the edge of the box. To his left, a winger was open, screaming for the ball. It was the textbook La Masia play. But Lee, sensing the eyes of the world on him, decided to take the glory. He tried to cut inside for a shot, but he was met by the blue team's veteran center-back.
In that moment, the gap in physicality became apparent. The defender didn't lunge; he simply leaned into Lee, using his superior weight to shield the ball. The Korean youngster shot, losing his rhythm, and the ball was poked away.
Possession flipped. Munir recovered the ball near the circle and looked up, but the red team's "bus" was already parking.
Lorenzo didn't sprint into the crowd. He stayed on the shoulder of the last man, his eyes tracking the frantic movements of Lee Seung-woo, who was desperate to win the ball back. To the fans on the sideline, Lorenzo looked static, almost lazy. But to the scouts, he was a coil being wound tight.
"He's not moving," Sacristán noted, checking his watch as the match crossed the twenty-minute mark. "Is he waiting for an invitation?"
Kluivert didn't answer. He was watching the way Lorenzo's shadow overlapped with the center-back's. He wasn't lazy; he was invisible.
On the pitch, the ball found its way back to Lee Seung-woo near the edge of the box. The Korean starlet took a heavy touch, his eyes burning with the need to score. He ignored two open teammates, his mind locked on the goal. This was the moment of choice, the moment that would define the difference between a flashy prospect and a true predator.
Lorenzo watched, his knees slightly bent, his 'Positioning' attribute humming.
Go on, kid, he thought, his gaze narrowing. Make your mistake.