Three days. That's all it took for Enzo Sky Vito's name to spread like wildfire across Centro Sportivo Milanello.
By then, the whispers had turned into low murmurs — not just among the players, but the coaches, staff, even the security guards at the gate.
"That's the boy from the trial."
"The one they say moves like Ronaldo."
"Thirteen years old. Can you believe it?"
But hype was dangerous. Especially in Milan.
At big clubs, it wasn't the praise that killed players. It was the expectation.
On Monday morning, Enzo was officially introduced to his new teammates — the AC Milan U14 squad.
He walked into the locker room dressed in full red-and-black. His backpack was heavier than usual, his boots tied with a double knot, and his heart steady.
As always.
But the locker room wasn't quiet.
There were glances. Mutters.
The captain, a midfield general named Riccardo, stood up and shook his head.
"Another wonderkid. Good luck, piccolo."
Little one.
Enzo said nothing. He sat in the corner, laced his boots, and listened.
Their coach, Luca Ferretti, entered the room like a soldier arriving at a war camp. Buzz-cut hair, thunder in his voice, and a scowl that made 14-year-olds forget their egos real quick.
He looked directly at Enzo.
"I don't care what they say about you. Here, we don't play YouTube football. We earn our place."
Then to the rest:
"This week — training. Sunday — match. Against Inter."
The room tightened.
Inter Milan. The eternal rival.
A game where every pass, every mistake, every tackle had meaning.
Training – Day 1.
The first drill was rondo — one-touch, fast-paced, two in the middle.
Enzo was targeted instantly. Older players closed on him. They wanted to test the hype, expose the boy.
One made a move.
Enzo slipped the ball through his legs.
The next tried to block the pass.
Enzo flicked it over his foot and passed without looking.
Within ten minutes, players stopped mocking him. They started giving him the ball. And Riccardo, the same captain who called him "piccolo", gave a quiet nod after a sharp one-two.
Training – Day 2
The intensity rose.
Coach Ferretti made it personal.
He threw Enzo into a scrimmage — but not with the U14s.
With the U16s.
"Let's see how your magic works when the boys are bigger," Ferretti growled.
The U16s didn't welcome him.
They shoved. Kicked. Pulled his shirt. Talked trash.
And for five full minutes, Enzo barely touched the ball.
But he waited.
Watched.
Calculated.
Then a loose ball fell near midfield. He beat one to it, touched it past a second, and charged forward like a lightning bolt.
He dropped a shoulder, skipped past another — then saw the keeper off his line.
One touch.
One clean, thundering strike with his left foot.
The ball soared and dipped — a perfect rocket.
Top corner.
Silence followed.
Coach Ferretti took off his cap and stared.
"Put him in the U15s. Sunday. Starting eleven. Against Inter."
That Night
Back home, Enzo lay on the couch, ice pack on his ankle, watching Ronaldo Nazário highlights for the thousandth time.
His father walked in, glass of wine in hand, proud but composed.
"Heard what happened. Don't let it get to your head."
His mother leaned on the doorway.
"He won't. He was born calm."
His older brother, Luca, punched his arm.
"Top bins, yeah?"
Enzo just smiled. "Only the beginning."
Sunday would be his first real test.
Not just on the pitch — but under pressure, under the name he was beginning to carry like a second skin:
"Il Fenomeno."
And all of Milan would be watching.