"I am taking back my rating of Leon from the start of the match."
"Although his rushes off the line look reckless, he has not made a single error so far."
"That tells me he has a clear and honest understanding of his own ability and is making excellent use of it."
"Taking it a step further, Real Madrid B's tactical identity is built around wide play and crossing for a striker to attack in the box, and Leon appears to be targeting that specifically."
"That is something quite out of the ordinary. He is thinking about the bigger picture."
Up in the stands, Watson's pen was moving faster and faster across the page.
Although many younger scouts had started using portable laptops to record their observations, an old-school scout like him still preferred pen and paper.
The match had now reached the 88th minute.
The score stood at 1-0.
Leoia were ahead.
In the 78th minute of the second half, Real Madrid B, having failed to break through for so long, had finally let their concentration slip.
A careless pass from their defensive midfield was intercepted directly by Hachim Mastour.
After dribbling past two players in quick succession, Hachim Mastour let fly with a long-range strike.
"Swish!"
The ball flew into the net and Hachim Mastour had produced an absolute worldie.
Hachim Mastour was visibly thrilled after scoring.
He had a particular fondness for having a go from distance in matches, but his accuracy was frankly dire.
This time it had finally gone in.
After scoring, Hachim Mastour sprinted the full length of the pitch and launched himself into a big hug with Leon.
"Leon!"
"I scored! I scored!"
"I finally bloody scored!"
In that moment, Hachim Mastour was every bit the sixteen-year-old he actually was.
Up until then he had often tried to act older than his years in front of Leon.
Leon was actually two years older than Hachim Mastour and had turned eighteen this year.
Up in the stands, the home supporters had begun doing the Mexican wave.
With only four or five minutes left, Real Madrid B looked unlikely to trouble Leoia again.
In the 92nd minute, just the final minute of stoppage time remained.
Hachim Mastour, sensing the match was nearly over, tried to show off some elaborate dribbling against Lucas in his own half.
But a failed stepover allowed Lucas to strip the ball from him cleanly.
"Oh no!"
Hachim Mastour's mistake was devastating.
Every Leoia player on the pitch had been mentally preparing to celebrate the win and their concentration had entirely dropped off.
Every player except Leon.
Lucas knocked the ball forward and immediately burst into a sprint, and in an instant it became a one-on-one situation.
"A one-on-one! Another one-on-one!"
"It's fine! We have Leon! Leon is the best at saving one-on-ones!"
"He can't possibly save every single one though!"
"It's in fate's hands now!"
The Leoia supporters felt themselves plummeting from heaven straight down to hell.
Leon was fully focused.
Until the final whistle sounded, Leon maintained his concentration without any lapse.
Up in the stands, Watson's mental rating of the two players moved in opposite directions, one plummeting and one soaring.
If Leon could save this one-on-one as well, his rating in Watson's mind would shoot straight to the top.
'Just because that Barcelona B forward could not do it does not mean I cannot.'
Lucas had seen most of his crosses claimed by Leon throughout the match and had been seething with frustration.
Now, facing Leon one-on-one, Lucas decided it was time to teach him a proper lesson.
Facing Leon's rapid rush off the line, Lucas suddenly left the ground mid-dribble at full speed and went for a chip shot.
'That is in.'
'What a shame.'
Up in the stands, Watson knew the moment Lucas struck the ball.
The arc on Lucas's chip was extremely high.
If his reading of it was correct, the ball would clip the underside of the crossbar on its way into the net.
For Leon, who had already committed to coming off his line, it was an absolute dead angle.
"You live by the sword, you die by the sword."
"Leon's rushing out has finally produced a fatal error!"
"Though staying on his line would basically have been handing it to them too."
The home supporters in the stands buried their heads in their hands, bracing themselves for a last-gasp equaliser.
In the previous match, Leon's headed goal had been the last-gasp equaliser against Barcelona B.
Now it was their turn to experience that same bitter feeling.
"Wait! Look!"
"This cannot be happening!"
"How is he doing that!"
Suddenly the stands erupted in complete disbelief.
Out on the pitch, Leon had charged out halfway and then his entire body ground to a halt as though something beyond his control had taken over, before pulling him back towards his goal at full speed.
And at that very moment, Lucas had only just struck the chip.
His starting talent: Must-Save on One-on-One!
Because a chip travels considerably slower than a driven shot, it gave Leon just enough time to recover.
The ball was dropping towards the net.
A surge of tremendous energy suddenly burst through Leon's body.
Leon launched himself upward in one explosive leap and got his fingertips to the ball just in time, deflecting it away from its downward path.
"Clang!"
The ball struck the crossbar and flew away over the byline.
Lucas dropped to his knees.
The impossible scene unfolding before his eyes had completely broken him.
How had that been saved?
In Lucas's eyes, Leon had seemed to simply blink back into his goal from nowhere.
There was no other explanation for how that save had been possible.
Lucas genuinely began to question everything he knew.