In the Shadow of Recognition

On Monday, after an intense afternoon training session under the blazing sun, Coach Cerqueira gathered all the players in the center of the field for a special announcement. The team, still sweaty and exhausted, approached with curiosity. Anticipation hung in the air, with a few players murmuring among themselves, trying to guess what it could be. 

Cerqueira crossed his arms and smiled before speaking. 

"Boys, I have something important to share with you. As you know, the club has secured a partnership with ActiveHydro, that sports drink brand I mentioned last week. And as part of the deal, they want to sponsor a few of you." 

The field erupted with excited exclamations. Cássio, ever the most enthusiastic, started jumping and shouting: 

"Sponsorship! Finally! This is it—we're rich now, Cleiton! Nathan, how many millions do you think it's worth? Can I order my custom cleats already?" 

The players laughed at Cássio's excitement, and Nathan joined in, saying: 

"Absolutely, Cássio. They'll probably pay you in new cleats so you can stop tearing through them." 

The group relaxed, joking and speculating about the sponsorship. But Cerqueira raised his hand, calling for silence again. His expression turned a little more serious. 

"Hold on, everyone. Unfortunately, the sponsorship won't be for all of you. ActiveHydro selected five players based on their performance and market potential. The names are: Nathan, Pedrinho, Rodrigo, William, and Claudio Sousa." 

A heavy silence fell over the group. The earlier excitement vanished, leaving a noticeably tense atmosphere. Only the five mentioned celebrated, exchanging smiles and small claps. Nathan, however, quickly noticed the shift in mood. His eyes immediately found Cleiton, who wore a faint, strained smile, trying to mask his disappointment. 

"Congratulations, Nathan," Cleiton said sincerely but with a tone that only those close to him would recognize. He extended a hand to congratulate his friend. "You deserve it." 

Nathan shook Cleiton's hand but didn't reply immediately. His celebratory grin had faded, replaced by a concerned expression. He knew how crucial players like Cleiton and even Cássio were to the team, even if they didn't bask in the spotlight. 

Cássio, ever the optimist, found a way to lighten the mood. He clapped Nathan on the shoulder and said: 

"All right, top scorer. But if they're giving you a lifetime supply of energy drinks, I hope you'll share with your teammates. After all, who's holding the fort back in defense so you can shine?" 

The joke earned a few chuckles, easing some of the tension. Still, the disappointment was evident on many faces, though no one openly expressed it. 

Cerqueira noticed the atmosphere and continued: 

"Listen, boys. I know some of you might feel disheartened right now. But remember, this isn't about who's more important to the team. The sponsorship was based on what the brand considers marketable, not your actual value as players. Every single one of you has the potential to go far in football, and I'm here to help you achieve that—sponsorship or not." 

He then turned to the selected five. 

"Nathan, Pedrinho, Rodrigo, William, Claudio—I need you to come to tomorrow's training session with your legal guardians. You'll sign the sponsorship contracts and take part in a photoshoot for ActiveHydro." 

The five nodded, a bit subdued, hesitant to celebrate too much in front of the others. Cerqueira ended the meeting and dismissed the team to the locker room. 

As Cássio walked alongside Cleiton, he let out a deep sigh and muttered under his breath: 

"You know, Cleiton, I won't lie—it stings a little. But I think I'm more worried about my next pair of cleats than a sponsor right now. Let's just keep playing our best, and who knows? Maybe one day, brands will finally see the value of defenders too." 

Cleiton gave a small smile, appreciating Cássio's effort to stay positive. Despite the disappointment, he saw this as just another hurdle in his journey—and he was determined to overcome it. 

Later that evening, Cleiton arrived home, the vibrant atmosphere of the locker room now a distant echo. He dropped his bag on the floor of his room and collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. The day's events swirled in his mind like a storm, leaving a weighty feeling in his chest. 

On one hand, he felt genuine happiness for Nathan. His friend deserved the recognition, and Cleiton knew how hard Nathan worked in every training session and match. But on the other hand, the absence of his own name on the sponsor list planted a sharp sting of disappointment he couldn't shake. 

"Am I not good enough?" he thought, clenching his fists at his sides. "I train every day, give my all on the field, I'm one of the pillars of the defense... yet none of it seems to matter. They only care about who scores goals."

He turned over in bed, trying to push the thought away, but it was impossible. The frustration began to mix with a simmering anger—not at Nathan or the others who were chosen, but at the system itself. The unyielding logic of brands that seemed incapable of seeing beyond numbers and the spotlight.

"Even William," he thought, biting his lip. "A reserve. A RESERVE. And me? I play every minute, fight for every ball, and still, I'm overlooked. It's like being a defender means being invisible. Will my work ever be recognized?"

He took a deep breath, trying to control the rising anger. The disappointment stung even more when he thought about Cássio. Of the three of them, Cássio had always been the one most excited about sponsorships, dreaming aloud about having his name tied to a major brand. Cássio was always the most enthusiastic, the most optimistic. Seeing him mask his frustration with jokes had been like a punch to Cleiton's gut.

"I should be happy for them," Cleiton thought, running his hands over his face. "And I am... truly. But I can't ignore how much this hurts. It feels like all my effort is meaningless."

After a few minutes, he sat up in bed, taking a deep breath. The anger and disappointment were still there, but something inside him began to shift. A fire ignited, a determination he had never felt so intensely before.

"If they can't see my worth now, then I'll force them to. I'll show these brands that a center-back can be just as valuable as any forward. I'll train until I change their view of what's commercially appealing."

Cleiton stood up with a determined look. He turned on the system and entered the virtual training space. In the silence of the digital environment, he began to train with an almost frightening intensity. Every tackle, every pass, every movement was executed with precision and controlled fury.

He wasn't just training to become a better player. He was training to prove a point—to show that defenders could shine, that they too had stories worth telling and skills deserving of recognition.

With each simulation, he found himself in increasingly challenging scenarios, facing virtual attackers that tested his limits. And with each victory, he felt his frustration transform into renewed determination.

"You'll regret ignoring me," he murmured to himself as he intercepted an attacker and regained possession with a flawless tackle. "I'll make the entire world see the value of a defender."

That night, Cleiton trained until his body demanded rest. When he finally lay his head on the pillow, exhausted but satisfied, he knew he had taken an important step—not just for his future as a player but for changing the narrative that had always placed defenders in the shadow of forwards.

---

The next day began with a slightly tense atmosphere at Vitória's training center. The players arrived gradually, carrying their bags and chatting animatedly about the last match and what they expected from practice. But something unusual caught everyone's attention: the five players selected for the ActiveHydro sponsorship arrived accompanied.

Nathan arrived with his father, a tall and cheerful man who shook everyone's hand enthusiastically. Pedrinho came with his mother, who hugged him tightly before he entered the locker room. Rodrigo arrived with both his parents, exchanging a few jokes with his teammates before heading inside. William stood beside his father, a more reserved man who chose to wait outside. But it was Claudio Sousa who truly surprised everyone. Not only did he arrive with his father, but he was also accompanied by an agent.

A buzz of whispers spread immediately. 

"Claudio already has an agent?" Cássio asked, his eyes wide. "He's not even a professional yet!"

Cleiton observed the scene with curiosity but remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself. Claudio, ever confident, looked completely at ease as he chatted with the agent, a well-dressed man with a sharp gaze who seemed to be sizing up everything around him.

Meanwhile, Coach Cerqueira called the five players to the club's legal department, where they would sign the sponsorship contracts with ActiveHydro. The remaining players stayed on the field, ready to begin their practice.

Training started intensely. Without the five selected players, the rest of the group knew they had to stay focused. Cleiton led the defense in a positioning drill, while Cássio stood out in speed exercises on the wings. Despite missing some teammates, the group worked in silence, their concentration heightened.

After about an hour, as the team paused to hydrate and rest, the sound of cameras clicking drew everyone's attention. On the sidelines, the five sponsored players were having their photos taken. Dressed in uniforms bearing the ActiveHydro logo, they posed beside shiny bottles and sports gear as photographers and brand representatives directed them.

Cássio, sitting next to Cleiton, let out a deep sigh. 

"It's strange, isn't it?" he said, his eyes fixed on the scene before them. "Last night, I barely slept. I kept thinking about it—jealousy, frustration, all mixed together." 

Cleiton turned to his friend, noticing the sincerity in his words. 

"I know how you feel," Cleiton replied calmly. "I was thinking about it all night too. It's hard not to feel that way." 

Cássio nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. 

"But you know," he continued, "I decided it's no use dwelling on it. They got picked, and fine, it's their moment. But me... I just have to work twice as hard now. Prove that I'm good enough. Not just to them, but to myself." 

Cleiton offered a small smile, impressed by his friend's determination. 

"You're right, Cássio. And if you think about it, we're all in the same fight. It's frustrating not to get recognized, but I think that frustration can be fuel. We can use it to push ourselves, to go even further." 

The two sat in silence for a moment, watching their friends pose for another round of photos. Nathan seemed the most at ease, joking with the photographers and striking casual poses. Pedrinho was quieter but smiled politely for the cameras. Claudio, on the other hand, looked like he was in command of the situation, clearly comfortable with all the attention. 

Cássio sighed again. 

"Do you think one day it'll be us out there? In the uniforms, with the contracts, the sponsors... all of it?" 

Cleiton looked at his friend and smiled softly. 

"I don't think so. I know it will be. But until then, we'll just do what we do best—work hard, stay dedicated, and let our football speak for us." 

Cássio lightly punched Cleiton's shoulder, grinning. 

"Deal. But until then, I'm holding Nathan to his promise to share all that energy drink." 

Cleiton laughed, and the two returned to their training. The break was over, and it was time to get back to work. While the camera flashes continued in the background, Cleiton and Cássio refocused on the field, determined to turn their frustration into strength. 

The weekend loomed with two crucial matches for Vitória in the Campeonato Baiano Sub-17. The first, against Jacuipense, was scheduled for Saturday, followed by another on Sunday against Bahia de Feira. Two back-to-back games, both challenging and critical to maintaining momentum and their position near the top of the table. The atmosphere at the club was one of intense focus, but for Cleiton and Cássio, these matches held a deeper significance. 

Throughout the week, while their teammates trained as usual, Cleiton and Cássio dedicated themselves to extra sessions. Cleiton, utilizing the system's virtual training space, intensified his defensive simulations and passing drills, refining even the smallest details. Every tackle, interception, and movement was executed with precision, almost like a choreographed dance in the virtual field. Meanwhile, Cássio, in the real world, stayed late at the training center, perfecting his crosses and building his stamina. The fullback wasn't just aiming to improve—he was determined to prove a point. 

Both carried the same motivation: it wasn't just about playing well. It was about showing they were indispensable, that their effort and talent deserved recognition. Being excluded from the sponsorship deal had left its mark, but instead of letting frustration consume them, they channeled it into fuel to shine even brighter. 

When Saturday finally arrived, the sun rose high, bathing the southern field in light. Cleiton and Cássio knew they weren't just stepping onto the pitch for another match—they were stepping up to prove a point. Not to their teammates or Coach Cerqueira, who already understood their value, but to anyone who had ever doubted that defensive and supporting players could be stars in their own right.