The alarm rang before the sun. Gabriel groaned, rolling off the thin mattress, his muscles heavy and sore. His body begged for rest, but there was no choice. Two trainings in one day—first with the youth team at Gávea, then later with the professionals.
He brushed his teeth half-awake, pulled on his worn hoodie, and kissed his mother's cheek before leaving. She was already up, preparing for another long day of cleaning houses.
"Vai com calma, meu filho," she said softly, worry in her eyes.
Gabriel forced a smile. "Don't worry, mãe. I'll be fine."
But inside, he wasn't sure.
---
The Double Grind
At the youth session, the drills were relentless. Sprints, passing patterns, small-sided games. The coaches demanded intensity. Lucas pressed him harder than anyone else, every tackle a statement.
By the end, Gabriel's shirt clung to his back with sweat, his lungs burned, and his legs trembled. But there was no time to collapse. He showered quickly, ate a simple meal of rice and beans, and then took the bus across the city to the professional facility.
The contrast was immediate. The pace, the authority, the precision—it was like stepping into another dimension. Arrascaeta's vision, Everton Ribeiro's calm leadership, Gabigol's sharp instincts—all of it forced Gabriel to raise his level or drown.
He stumbled often. His passes were intercepted, his runs cut off. But he never hid. He pressed, he fought, he demanded the ball again.
By the time training ended, his body screamed. Yet, when he sat on the bench, gasping for breath, he felt something deeper: growth.
---
Pressure from All Sides
The attention didn't fade. If anything, it grew.
After sessions, journalists hovered near the gates. "Gabriel! Is it true you're being prepared as Flamengo's next striker?"
At home, kids from the neighborhood waited by the street to see him return, shouting, "Backyard boy! Show us your tricks!"
On social media, debates raged. Some called him the future. Others said he was overrated.
The weight pressed on him everywhere he turned.
At dinner, his mother noticed his silence. "You're too quiet, Biel. What's on your mind?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Just tired."
But the truth was heavier: What if I'm not enough? What if I let them all down?
---
Lessons from Veterans
One evening, after another draining professional session, Gabriel lingered on the pitch, juggling the ball alone. His legs wobbled, but he refused to stop.
Everton Ribeiro approached, hands on hips. "Garoto, rest. You'll burn out."
Gabriel shook his head. "I can't. I need to keep up. If I slow down, I'll fall behind."
The captain crouched to meet his eyes. His voice was calm, steady.
"Listen. Football isn't just about how much you train. It's about how you last. A flame that burns too fast goes out before it lights the world. Pace yourself. Learn. Grow steady."
The words settled deep into Gabriel's chest. He nodded slowly, realizing the wisdom behind them.
---
Balance and Burden
The days blurred into weeks. Training, traveling, eating, sleeping—his life became a cycle of football and fatigue. His body hardened, his mind sharpened, but so did the pressure.
Lucas's rivalry turned sharper, each youth match becoming a personal duel. João stayed close, grounding him, reminding him to laugh, to breathe, to live. The professionals pushed him, tested him, but also guided him in small moments—advice, a pat on the back, a nod of respect.
One night, Gabriel stood at his window, looking at the city lights. The weight on his shoulders felt immense, but so did the fire in his chest.
Between the red and the black, between the boy I was and the man I must become… I'll find my path.
And with that silent vow, he turned off the light, ready to wake again before dawn.