The air in Rio changed when clássicos arrived. Youth matches didn't matter as much in the standings, but when it was Flamengo against Fluminense, Vasco, or Botafogo, the blood ran hotter.
For Gabriel, these weren't just matches. They were stages. And everyone was watching.
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Fla-Flu – The First Test
The match against Fluminense's base team filled the small stadium with noise. Parents waved flags, kids shouted chants, and scouts filled the stands with notebooks ready.
Across the pitch, Gabriel recognized faces he had seen in headlines: Matheus Reis, Fluminense's tall forward known for his aerial dominance, and Arthur Wenderrosky, the midfield jewel with precise passing.
Lucas leaned toward Gabriel before kickoff. "Try not to embarrass yourself, backyard boy. These aren't nobodies."
Gabriel just tightened his laces. His answer would come on the field.
The game began, and Arthur Wenderrosky dictated play early, threading passes like a puppet master. Fluminense scored first, Matheus Reis heading past Flamengo's keeper. Their bench roared, the pressure mounting.
But Gabriel didn't flinch.
Minutes later, João intercepted a pass and launched a counter. Gabriel sprinted into the gap, his run perfectly timed. The ball arrived, defenders closing fast. He dragged the ball with his right foot, spun, and with his left curled a shot from the edge of the box.
It soared. It dipped. It hit the top corner.
The crowd gasped, then erupted. A goal of pure genius.
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Fla-Vasco – The War
A week later came Vasco. Their captain was Rayan Vitor, a striker already tipped for stardom, and beside him, GB, the powerful forward who bullied defenders with size and speed.
The match was a battle. Tackles flew in, shouts echoed, and every touch carried venom. Vasco struck first through Rayan, a clinical finish that silenced the Flamengo fans.
But Gabriel's fire burned brighter under pressure.
In the second half, he picked up the ball near midfield. GB charged at him, trying to muscle him off, but Gabriel slipped past with a quick feint, leaving the forward stumbling.
He surged forward, nutmegged a defender, and reached the box. Rayan slid in desperately, but Gabriel chipped the keeper coolly, the ball floating into the net like it belonged there.
The stands exploded. Even rival fans clapped. Genius had spoken.
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Fla-Bota – The Statement
The last clássico was against Botafogo. Their midfield was anchored by Kayque Soares, quick and fiery, and their defense by Wendel, a wall at the back.
The game was tense, tied 1–1 with minutes remaining. Botafogo's supporters sang loud, believing a draw would be enough.
But Gabriel wasn't there for a draw.
João cleared a desperate ball into space. Gabriel sprinted after it, heart pounding, chased by Wendel. They clashed shoulder to shoulder, but Gabriel kept balance, kept the ball alive.
The keeper rushed out. Gabriel stopped suddenly, letting Wendel stumble past, then chipped the ball lightly over the onrushing keeper. It floated in slow motion, dropping behind the line.
Goal. Winner. Silence from Botafogo. Ecstasy from Flamengo.
Gabriel raised his arms to the sky, sweat dripping, chest heaving. He wasn't just surviving clássicos—he was conquering them.
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The Birth of a Name
That night, the headlines blazed:
"Gabriel Silva shines in all three clássicos."
"From backyard boy to Flamengo's promise."
"A genius in front of goal."
At home, Gabriel scrolled through the articles. His mother hugged him tightly, tears in her eyes.
And as he lay in bed later, Gabriel whispered to himself:
"This is only the beginning. One day, I'll show this genius under the lights of the Maracanã."
And for the first time, he truly believed the world would see it.