I arrived in South Korea and Japan with the weight of a nation on my shoulders. Coach Scolari was worried about my fitness. I just smiled.
The Group Stage:
Against Turkey, I felt the Supernatural Ball Sense kick in. I could see the trajectory of the ball before it even left Rivaldo's foot. I lunged, my "glass knee" now a weapon of steel, and poked the ball into the net. Against China and Costa Rica, I played with the defenders like they were ghosts. I wasn't just fast; I was a blur of peak human efficiency.
The Knockouts:
The Quarter-final against England was a chess match. When Ronaldinho sent that looping free kick over Seaman, I was the first to embrace him, but I knew the final was my destiny. My patriotism burned like a furnace. Every time I pulled on the Amarelinha (the yellow jersey), I felt the soul of Brazil pulsing through me.
The Final: June 30, 2002 – Yokohama, Japan.
Brazil vs. Germany. The legendary Oliver Kahn stood in the way.
In the 67th minute, Rivaldo unleashed a fierce strike. Kahn fumbled. Most strikers would have been a second late. I was already there. My Supernatural Recovery meant my muscles never felt the "lag" of a sprint. 1-0.
In the 79th minute, Kleberson crossed the ball. Rivaldo let it dummy through his legs. I rercieved the ball at the edge of the box. Using my Ball Sense, I felt the vibration of the turf—I knew exactly where the defender was without looking. I took one touch, a perfect setup, and slotted the ball into the bottom corner. 2-0.
The whistle blew. Brazil were Pentacampeões—five-time champions. I had scored 8 goals. The world wept for the "comeback kid," but I just looked at the trophy and thought: This is only the beginning. I will never break. I will never stop.