The bus turned the corner, and there it was.
The Maracanã.
Gabriel pressed his forehead against the window, breath caught in his chest. The stadium didn't look real—it rose into the sky like a monument, lights already glowing against the evening. He had seen it on TV, heard its roars echo through radios, but nothing compared to this.
He wasn't here to play—not yet. The youth teams had been invited to walk with the professionals, mascots and future dreams parading beside legends. Still, Gabriel's chest felt heavy, as if the red-and-black jersey clung tighter to him than ever.
---
The Tunnel
Inside the stadium, the air smelled of wet grass and sweat, of popcorn and fireworks drifting in from the stands.
He walked down the tunnel with his teammates, boots clicking against the concrete. Ahead of him, the first-team players lined up. Gabigol tied his boots calmly, Arrascaeta stretched with a grin, David Luiz clapped a younger player on the back.
Gabriel's heart raced. These were no longer just faces on TV. They were real. Human. And yet, larger than life.
One of the staff handed him a Flamengo flag to carry. "Smile, garoto. Tonight, you walk for the Nação."
---
The Roar
The moment they stepped out, the world exploded.
Red flares. Drums pounding. A sea of voices crashing down like a storm. Over sixty thousand fans screaming in unison, their chants rattling Gabriel's bones.
"Vamo, Flamengo! Vamo ser campeão!"
Gabriel froze mid-step, eyes wide, mouth dry. The sound wasn't noise—it was alive. It swallowed him, lifted him, carried him forward.
Beside him, Gabigol jogged out, arms wide, soaking in the roar. He bent down, whispering to Gabriel with a grin only the boy could hear:
"Remember this sound, kid. One day, it'll be for you too."
Gabriel's chest nearly burst. His legs shook, but he raised the flag high, the red-and-black colors waving proudly under the floodlights.
---
A Seed of Destiny
When the anthem played, Gabriel looked into the stands. Somewhere up there, he knew, his mother was watching. Maybe she couldn't see him clearly, just a tiny figure on the pitch—but he felt her eyes. Felt her pride.
Tears stung his eyes. He swallowed them back. One day, mãe. One day, you'll see me here as more than a shadow.
As the players lined up for kickoff, Gabriel and the other kids jogged off the field. His role was over, but his dream had just grown ten times heavier.
Back in the tunnel, he looked over his shoulder one last time at the sea of lights, flags, and chants.
And in that moment, Gabriel Silva made himself a silent promise:
I'll be back here. Not as a guest. As Flamengo.