Chapter 20: The Art of an Attacking Midfielder

Kaka finally got his wish to start his third match.

The recent pay raise was a signal that the club had fully recognized his abilities. This meant that Kaka had not only firmly established himself in the first team but was also likely to be nurtured as the club's future star.

However, the future star's starting performance did not continue the magical displays of the previous two matches.

It wasn't because the opposition was particularly formidable or Kaka was out of form; he simply made a foolish mistake.

In this game, Kaka played in his usual attacking midfield role, or as a second striker.

At his peak, Kaka was considered the benchmark for modern attacking midfielders – precise passing, dribbling like the wind, and a thunderous shot. When in full flow, he could single-handedly orchestrate attacks from midfield all the way to the opposition's goal, making his team's strikers look redundant, dominating the game with utter arrogance.

Before Kaka, the keywords associated with attacking midfielders were elegance, artistry, effortlessness, midfield generals, and devastation with a touch of nonchalance.

Of course, from a modern perspective, barring a few greats, the daily routine of most classical attacking midfielders was more akin to frenzied chaos, struggling to advance more than a meter and a half, showcasing intricate skills while essentially moving in circles – far less impressive than the legends suggest.

In contrast, modern attacking midfielders possess superior athleticism, explosive pace, and a broader range of movement, but they are also more susceptible to injuries.

The system remained silent, and Kaka was still relying on his physical attributes to perform, some distance away from the art of longevity in football. However, in this match, he consciously reduced his high-speed dribbling and attempted to break through defenses, link up with teammates, and progress attacks through passing and subtle footwork.

The result was a humiliating defeat.

The fans who had come specifically to watch him play shook their heads in utter disappointment.

Kaka knew he was still far from the realm of Riquelme, Zidane, Totti, and others who could transform the mundane into the extraordinary, but he didn't expect the gap to be this vast.

Lofty ambitions and foresight are essentially the same thing. The idea of harmonizing strength and flexibility, or using patience to overcome speed, was clearly beyond his capabilities.

Time after time, he lost possession, leading his team's attacks into dead ends. The prodigious image Kaka had swiftly established in people's minds was crumbling at an even faster rate.

"Hey, kid, is that all you've got?"

Trash talk is not exclusive to the NBA; it exists everywhere, including football fields, though it's less common there. Evidently, Pereira, the player tasked with marking Kaka and wearing the number 8 jersey, was one such individual.

It's unclear whether Kaka's face was too provocative or if the opponent was employing mind games, but from the start, this tall Black man wouldn't stop running his mouth. And after successfully defending against Kaka a few times, he quickly became full of himself, seeming to revel in his perceived success.

He simply wouldn't stop.

Kaka didn't detect any hint of the legendary rap talents amidst the barrage of slang; he just found it annoying.

Like the incessant buzzing of a fly.

"Kaka! What are you doing? Run! Run, damn it! If you don't want to run, then get off the pitch!" Even the usually composed Alvarez lost his cool, shouting at Kaka from the sidelines.

While Kaka couldn't make out the head coach's exact words, he understood his frustration and could roughly guess what he was yelling.

If he continued like this, he'd likely be substituted.

Forget it, no more pretense; I'll show my true colors.

"Indeed, relying less on physicality and more on technique... requires actual technique." Kaka lowered his head, avoiding the livid Alvarez on the sidelines, and turned to run.

The ball was coming.

Admittedly, having pace but not using it was quite perplexing. Being too far ahead of one's time isn't always a good thing.

"Kaka has caught up with the ball. It's now the 43rd minute of the match, likely São Paulo's final attacking opportunity of the first half. I can already envision the outcome of this attack.

"Kaka, making his first start, has crumbled under the pressure. He's a completely different player compared to when he came on as a substitute. We had hoped to see a fully fueled Ferrari, but what we're witnessing is...

"Kaka is accelerating! The Kaka we're familiar with is back."

The commentator was clearly talking nonsense. Even including his two substitute appearances, Kaka had barely played a full match's worth of minutes. If he felt unfamiliar with himself, it would be even more unlikely for others to be acquainted with him.

The only accurate statement was that, at this moment, Kaka had finally become the player everyone hoped he would be.

Dribbling like the wind.

Pereira reacted quickly, reaching out to grab him, but he didn't even touch Kaka's jersey.

Instead of standing still and watching Kaka's back in a daze, he stubbornly gave chase, unwilling to accept defeat.

He had seen many players with blistering pace, but even the fastest runners would slow down while dribbling a ball.

He didn't believe the nonsense about certain prodigies being quicker with the ball than without it. Anyone with a modicum of common sense knew that was impossible.

If such a player existed, it would only mean their running technique was flawed.

This reasoning was sound, but even with the ball, Kaka was simply too fast for Pereira to catch up.

After all... how could a fly ever outrun a shooting star?

(End of Chapter)