Chapter 12: Soaring Like a Shooting Star

Bosco and Simone, the parents of Kaka, exchanged an incredulous glance before staring at the figure on the pitch, arms raised toward the sky in celebration.

Playing football was a formal profession in Brazil, but for Kaka, it wasn't his only choice, let alone the best one. The green turf might be a shortcut to fame and fortune, but it was also a fiercely competitive and sometimes brutal path. For many Brazilian players, professional football was their only way out, but Kaka was different. His good education and upbringing meant he had more options and a more comfortable life, so his parents disapproved, even rejected, the idea of him pursuing football as a career. They had envisioned consoling and encouraging him to regain his confidence after a failed football journey.

But the scene unfolding before them shook their beliefs. Perhaps their son was indeed a football prodigy?

The young players from the São Paulo youth team were also cheering for their equalizing goal, but their smiles carried a different undertone. Just days ago, they were all teammates in the youth squad, uncertain about when they would take the field as professionals. Yet, in a matter of days, Kaka had already made his mark in the first team.

Envy crept in, especially for the captain, Harrison. He clapped his hands, but his heart wasn't entirely in it. This opportunity, this glory, should have been his.

To hell with the Youth Cup!

Falcao watched Kaka, the center of attention, his heart burning with determination. Both were professional footballers, but futsal and eleven-a-side football were different beasts. Not to mention, such a roar from thousands of fans was rarely heard in futsal arenas.

This was just an ordinary cup match, but the uproar was greater than a futsal final. No professional player could remain unfazed by such a spectacle.

Falcao knew Kaka's abilities – undoubtedly strong – but he didn't consider himself weaker. In many aspects, he was even better. If Kaka could succeed, then why not him?

Falcao, with plans to transition to eleven-a-side football, clenched his fist discreetly.

The excitement on the stands was matched on the coaching bench.

Álvarez, who had just returned to his seat after a substitution, didn't see the goal's entirety. By the time he noticed the celebrations from the substitutes and coaching staff, the ball was already in the net.

"What happened?"

"A goal, Valdo! We scored!"

"Of course, I know we scored. I'm asking who... no, how did it happen?"

Álvarez's tone carried surprise and disbelief as he watched the celebrating Kaka.

"That kid! That Ricardo, no, Kaka! He dribbled past the defenders and scored. It was brilliant!"

"Haha! I knew he was a genius! I knew he could do it!"

"Yes, yes! You knew, you have the best eye."

You're the coach, you're amazing.

Fabiano rushed towards Kaka, jumping onto his back excitedly. "Brilliant, Kaka!"

The other teammates surrounded him, patting his shoulders or ruffling his hair.

"Haha, brother, you're awesome! Scoring on your debut, let me share in your luck."

"Not just his debut, his first touch! Damn, I've been playing for three years and haven't scored once."

"So, are you too bad, or is Kaka too good?"

Botafogo's coach swore from the sidelines and began making substitutions.

"Botafogo has replaced a midfielder with a striker, it seems they're not content with a draw. São Paulo needs to be careful. This goal was brilliant but had an element of luck. They must suppress Botafogo's attacks, or Kaka's goal will be meaningless."

After the restart, Botafogo increased their offensive pressure, putting São Paulo's defense under strain. Kaka had to drop back into his own half to defend, and his recent heroics drew tighter marking, limiting his chances on the ball.

However, the Botafogo player assigned to mark him didn't have an easy time.

This kid could really run.

Left and right, slippery as an eel.

For a midfielder, the most important thing was making himself available to teammates, then linking the attack through passes or dribbling, not running aimlessly like a striker to create space. Such movement wasn't entirely necessary and could disrupt the midfield's organization. Fortunately, São Paulo spent most of the time defending, so Kaka's frantic runs didn't cause chaos in their ranks.

His running soon paid dividends.

In the 80th minute, Botafogo played a long ball down the wing, reaching São Paulo's penalty area. Their number 9 darted in like a rocket, heading the ball towards the goal.

"Beautiful header! Oh no! Cheni was alert, and São Paulo's captain leaped to punch the ball clear. Let's see if Botafogo have another chance."

São Paulo's center-back Lugano charged out to win the loose ball ahead of Botafogo's midfielders, preparing to clear it upfield. Suddenly, he heard a voice call out, "Here!"

It was the young prodigy's voice.

In normal circumstances, Lugano would have followed the plan and cleared the ball upfield. But Kaka had already earned his trust through training and matches. Without hesitation, Lugano kicked the ball in the direction of the voice.

A Botafogo midfielder was right in front of him, so Lugano had no opportunity to look up before passing. The ball traveled rapidly, and as he turned around after passing, he felt ashamed.

Listening for positioning clearly wasn't for everyone. Lugano's pass was at least three meters away from Kaka and nearly rolled out of bounds.

"Lugano passes... oh, it's a clearance, he's kicked it out... Kaka! He's sprinting! The ball has been retrieved, São Paulo have possession, another counterattacking opportunity!"

Kaka chased after the ball, just managing to flick it back into play with his heel before it went out, then surged a few steps forward before stopping.

Baptista received the ball from his own penalty area.

Kaka, who had run beyond the touchline, quickly returned to the pitch. Baptista dribbled along the line before encountering Botafogo's fullback and passing back to Kaka.

Kaka didn't control the ball, simply pushing it forward before breaking into a sprint.

This seemingly ordinary move would later appear in countless football narratives , earning a badass and fitting name.

The Meteorite Stride.

(End of Chapter)