The call came on a Tuesday afternoon, just as the youth squad finished a grueling session under the blazing Rio sun. Gabriel was bent over, hands on his knees, drenched in sweat when the assistant coach called out his name.
"Silva, locker room. Now."
His heart leapt. His legs almost gave way as he walked across the field, every step heavy with questions. Had he made a mistake? Was he being cut?
Inside, the youth coach sat waiting, arms crossed, eyes steady.
"Gabriel," he said, voice sharp but calm. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be training regularly with the first team. They want to see more of you."
For a second, Gabriel forgot how to breathe. His throat went dry, his heart drummed against his ribs.
"The… the first team?"
"Yes." The coach's tone softened slightly. "Don't misunderstand. This doesn't mean you're part of them. Not yet. But you've earned a chance. Don't waste it."
Gabriel nodded, unable to speak. His chest burned, but this time it wasn't exhaustion—it was fire.
---
Among Idols
The next morning, he stood outside the professional training ground once again. The gates felt taller than before, the crest of Flamengo shining brighter in the early sun.
When he stepped inside, the atmosphere hit him like a wave. The tempo of passes, the shouts, the authority in every movement—it was another universe compared to the academy.
Arrascaeta jogged by, ball at his feet, smiling as though football were the simplest thing in the world. Everton Ribeiro discussed tactics with a coach, his tone calm but commanding. David Luiz barked instructions at the defenders, his presence larger than life. And Gabigol… Gabigol strutted onto the pitch with his usual swagger, hair tied back, eyes sharp, as if the field itself bent around him.
Gabriel swallowed hard. He was among stars.
---
Baptism of Speed
The drill started. Short passes. Fast touches. Constant pressure. Gabriel tried to keep up, his lungs burning within minutes. One misstep, and the ball was gone.
But he didn't stop. He pressed harder, chased longer, fought for every touch. Sweat streamed down his face, his chest felt like it would explode, but he refused to vanish into the background.
During a small-sided game, the ball found him on the left wing. Rossi, the goalkeeper, barked orders as defenders closed in. Gabriel darted forward, heart hammering, cutting inside with a burst of speed.
"Vai, garoto!" Arrascaeta's voice rang out.
Gabriel struck low and hard. The keeper dived, fingertips grazing the ball—but it rolled into the net.
Cheers erupted from a few of the veterans. Gabigol jogged past, smirking.
"Careful, kid. You're making me look bad."
The words were playful, but to Gabriel, they were gold.
---
A New Weight
After training, Gabriel sat on the bench, chest still heaving. His legs trembled, but a smile crept onto his face.
He had survived. More than that—he had scored.
Yet he knew this was only the beginning. Every session would be harder. Every mistake sharper. Every look from the coaches heavier.
As he tied his boots, Everton Ribeiro walked by, patting his shoulder.
"You've got courage, garoto. Hold onto that. Talent is nothing without heart."
Gabriel froze, the captain's words sinking deep.
That night, lying in his small room, the noise of Rio buzzing outside, Gabriel whispered into the dark:
"I'll carry it. All of it. Until the Maracanã roars my name."
And for the first time, he felt not just like a boy chasing a dream—but a player walking toward destiny.