The Brasileirão had just begun, and Flamengo's first big challenge was at home, against Palmeiras — the reigning champions, known for their solid defense and unforgiving midfield. The match was broadcast nationwide, the entire country eager to see if Gabriel Silva's brilliance was real or just Carioca hype.
For Gabriel, the pressure was doubled. He had spotted her.
In the stands, among thousands of red-and-black fans, Mel Maia waved discreetly when their eyes met. It was just a second, but enough to send his heart racing.
Focus, Gabriel. Focus.
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The Whistle
The Maracanã roared as the referee blew the whistle. Palmeiras pressed early, their midfield led by Raphael Veiga, their defense marshaled by Murilo and Gustavo Gómez. They weren't like Volta Redonda or Fluminense. This was elite football.
In the opening minutes, Palmeiras suffocated Flamengo. Veiga's passing carved spaces, Dudu's speed threatened the wings. Flamengo held, but Gabriel touched the ball only twice.
The critics were waiting. Cameras zoomed in on him, commentators muttering: "The jewel needs to shine now."
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The Spark
At the 20th minute, the ball finally reached his feet.
A Palmeiras defender lunged in. Gabriel stopped dead, dragging the ball back with his sole, then flicked it sideways. A quick step-over, then another — the defender froze. Gabriel exploded forward, cutting inside, leaving him behind.
The crowd jumped to its feet. He slipped a pass to Gabigol, who shot just wide.
Even without a goal, the Maracanã roared: "Olé!"
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The First Strike
In the 33rd minute, Arrascaeta floated a delicate through ball into the box. Gabriel darted between Murilo and Gómez, timing his run perfectly.
The keeper rushed out. Gabriel didn't panic. With one touch, he dragged the ball wide, then calmly slotted it into the net.
GOAL. Flamengo 1–0.
The stadium exploded. Fans screamed his name, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her — Mel, standing, clapping, smiling wide.
His celebration was simple: arms open, eyes to the sky. But inside, his heart was on fire.
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The Dribble Show
The second half was a war. Palmeiras equalized with Veiga, a thunderous shot from distance. Tension rose.
But Gabriel wasn't done. At the 70th minute, he picked up the ball near midfield. Three defenders closed in.
He slowed, rolled the ball under his foot, then unleashed a flurry of step-overs. One defender lunged — nutmeg. Another tried to block — Gabriel spun around him with a roulette. The last man stood frozen as Gabriel darted past, roaring into the box.
He didn't shoot. Instead, he cut back calmly and laid it off for Gabigol, who smashed it in.
2–1 Flamengo. Assist by Gabriel Silva.
The crowd was delirious. His teammates swarmed him, Arrascaeta shouting: "You are different, garoto!"
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The Decider
Near the end, with Palmeiras pressing hard, Gabriel received one last chance. A quick counter, João launched him forward.
Face-to-face with Gómez, Gabriel feinted left, exploded right, and curled the ball from the edge of the box. It bent, dipped, and nestled into the corner.
GOAL.
3–1. Flamengo. Game over.
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The Aftermath
When the final whistle blew, the Maracanã was still trembling with chants: "Gabriel! Gabriel!"
In the stands, Mel's hands came together in applause, her smile brighter than the stadium lights. For a brief moment, Gabriel's eyes found hers again, and he knew—he hadn't played just for the Nação tonight.
In the locker room, journalists swarmed. Teammates praised him. The coach simply nodded, satisfied.
But when Gabriel lay in bed that night, his body aching, his heart was steady. He wasn't just the backyard boy anymore. He was the boy carrying Flamengo forward.
And maybe, just maybe, someone special was watching him rise.