The referee looked at his watch, took two steps back, and brought the whistle to his lips. A firm blow echoed across the field.
End of the first half.
The scoreboard showed 5–0, but anyone watching knew Rafael’s team’s dominance went beyond the numbers. It was a technical, tactical, and emotional massacre.
The opposing players lowered their heads, exhausted and disorganized. Some gestured at each other, visibly frustrated. Meanwhile, Rafael’s boys jogged toward the locker room—breathing hard, but with subtle smiles on their faces.
Kelvin wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. His hair was wet, his breathing still heavy, and the muscles in his legs slightly trembling from the intensity of the first half. Beside him, Felipe appeared laughing, still hyped from the team’s performance.
"Great first half, Kelvin!", he said, giving him a light tap on the shoulder.
Kelvin chuckled softly, without even looking directly at him.
"I’m grateful to you, sir, for the opportunity"
They entered together through the tunnel that led to the locker room. The locker room was a rectangular space with white tiles already somewhat worn by time. The damp floor, marked by muddy cleat prints, carried a faint smell of wet grass mixed with sweat and muscle cream. Muffled voices and laughter echoed off the walls, while the air was warm.
Along the sides, dark wooden benches held open backpacks, half-empty water bottles, and scattered players’ socks.
The sound of cleats against the concrete echoed like a victorious march. The environment inside was hot, humid, filled with the smell of sweat, wet grass, and warming cream.
Kelvin sat down silently, breathing deeply, feeling the heat of his own body radiating through his soaked uniform. He could hear Rafael’s footsteps approaching the benches.
Rafael stood beside them, holding a clipboard in his left hand, a towel slung over his shoulder, and the expression of a satisfied coach—though still completely serious.
Once everyone settled—some sitting on benches, others leaning against the wall or kneeling on the floor—he began to speak.
"Very good. Really good", his voice was firm. "This first half was everything we practiced. Discipline, compactness, movement. No fear of mistakes, no fear to take risks. Your posture was exemplary" Follow current novels on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮·𝓷𝓮𝓽
He walked to the center of the circle the players had formed, looking each one in the eyes for a few seconds.
"Now, since the game’s already under control, I’m going to rotate the squad a bit. I want to see other options too. Kelvin...", he pointed with his pen. "...you’re resting. You played great. Already showed more than enough today. I want to see how Yuri performs on that left wing"
Kelvin took a deep breath and nodded, though he would’ve loved to keep playing.
"It’s all good, coach"
"Ian’s coming off too. Matheus is coming into midfield. And in defense, Márcio, I’ll give you a break. Lucas will take your place"
Márcio gave a thumbs-up.
Rafael looked around again.
"I want intensity until the end. If you get a chance, take it. If you have to run, run. Show that the second half is ours too"
The players clapped and got up. Some stretched their legs, others drank water quickly. But before they could leave, Kazana, sitting on one of the benches, gathered everyone.
"Listen up, everyone. That first half? Ours, completely. But now is not the time to chill. We’re building something here. This isn’t just a game — it’s the beginning of our story as a team. Whether you’re coming in now or played the first half, doesn’t matter: everyone has a role here. So let’s go back out with the same hunger, same energy. Because we’re the ones who run this shit, not them. Got it?"
Everyone shouted yes, fired up by Kazana’s words, and started heading back to the field.
As he sat on the bench with the other substitutes, Kelvin looked toward the field with a serene gaze. His heart was still pounding, but there was a different kind of satisfaction in his chest.
In the stands, Takumi was no longer there.
But Júlia still was. Sitting still, eyes fixed on him.
The second half had a different pace. It was no longer a balanced duel. The opponent had already given up, and Rafael’s team seemed to manage the lead with relative ease.
Yuri tried to create plays down the left, cutting inside and looking for crosses. Matheus ran a lot in midfield, showing good vision and safe passes. Lucas dominated most of the defensive plays, seizing the chance to show strength.
Despite the changes, the team’s pattern held. Ball possession, quick triangulations, and well-worked plays. No more goals were scored, but the technical superiority was evident.
When the referee blew the final whistle, the sound was followed by muffled cheers of relief and joy. Kazana raised both arms to the sky, smiling. Felipe ran up to Rafael and gave him a quick hug:
"There you go, coach. That’s the result of our training"
Rafael laughed, patting the backs of the players coming over.
"I’m proud. What you all did out there today came from hard work. Everyone connected. Starters, subs, everyone... this was a team effort"
Some boys started taking pictures on the field, others took off their shirts and showed the numbers on their backs. Danilo stood with arms wide open in the middle of the field, slowly spinning as if trying to lock that moment into memory.
Rafael ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath. First match, first win. Dominant.
On their way out, more people had gathered than on their way in. Some teachers, some curious fans. Kelvin walked through them, receiving quiet praise, shoulder taps, and curious glances. A small child, wearing a Brazil jersey, tugged on his mother’s hoodie and pointed:
"Mom, it’s the boy from the free-kick goal!"
Kelvin heard it. He smiled. For the first time that day, a full, genuine smile.
Rodrigo came up beside him, his hair wet and his eyes carrying the look of someone who knew something had changed:
"Ready for the next games?"
Kelvin shrugged, with the same calm demeanor as always:
Felipe came right after, giving both of them a friendly nudge:
"And we’re gonna win them all"
Kelvin looked up at the sky. Light blue, clear, the wind gently sweeping across the stadium.