When the lights go on, shadows grow too.
Sunday Night – The Quiet After the Storm
After the derby, Enzo couldn't sleep.
Not from excitement — but noise.
Noise in his head.
Social media exploding with clips.
Notifications buzzing non-stop. The glowing screen offered praise, applause… but it also felt like it was swallowing him whole.
He threw his phone under the pillow and turned over.
In the silence, something whispered at him from the darkness.
"You're only 13. Why does it already feel like the world expects everything from you?"
Monday Morning – Back to Reality
Enzo walked through the school gates of Scuola Media Leonardo da Vinci with his hoodie up and bag slung over one shoulder.
Some students greeted him with cheers.
Others snapped photos from afar.
A few teachers clapped him on the back.
"Grande, Enzo! Goal of the season!"
He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
By the time he reached his classroom, he'd heard the same thing five different times:
"You're famous now!"
But inside, he didn't feel famous.
He felt exposed.
Classroom Tension
During math class, Signora Bellini asked him to solve a basic equation on the board.
Normally, Enzo would've done it easily — but his mind wandered.
"Why is my name trending on Instagram?"
"Should I reply to that French agent?"
"Did I mess up my first touch on that second goal?"
"Enzo?" Bellini called.
Still staring at the board, chalk in hand.
Nothing came.
Some students giggled. Bellini sighed.
"Let the campione sit down."
Laughter.
Heat rose to Enzo's cheeks as he returned to his seat, staring at the page, unable to focus.
He wasn't living in the classroom anymore.
His mind was stuck on the pitch — and the spotlight that now followed him everywhere.
Cafeteria Escape
At lunch, he sat with Tommaso and Ayoub.
"Why do you look like you just missed a penalty?" Ayoub asked, unwrapping his sandwich.
Enzo shook his head. "It's too much. It's like I'm not me anymore. Everyone wants something."
Tommaso pointed with his fork. "Yeah, but you love football. That's you. That's always been you."
Enzo looked away. "But I'm starting to feel like I'm doing it for them now. Not for me."
Home – The Noise Grows
That evening, Enzo returned to a house filled with football chatter.
His father sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open, reading emails from European scouts. His mother was on the phone with a local sponsor who wanted Enzo to appear at a youth event. His brother Luca was watching a YouTube video titled:
"Enzo Sky Vito – The Next Ronaldo?"
Enzo dropped his bag and went straight upstairs.
His room, once a sanctuary, now felt like another stage.
His phone buzzed — again.
"We'd love to send free boots if you tag us!"
"Can you do a Q&A for our youth podcast?"
"You're blowing up, man! Don't forget us!"
He turned it face down. Then picked it back up.
And turned it off completely.
The Breaking Point
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Then came the voice he didn't want to hear:
"What if you're not good enough next game?"
"What if they forget you?"
"What if you fail?"
He blinked fast.
And then — to his own surprise — he felt tears rise.
Silent ones.
The kind that aren't about losing a game, but losing yourself.
Luca's Visit
That night, after dinner, Luca entered his room quietly and sat beside him.
Enzo didn't move.
They sat in silence until Luca spoke:
"You know, I always thought your power was in your legs. The speed. The dribbling."
He paused.
"But it's not."
Enzo turned slightly, confused.
Luca smiled.
"It's in your joy. When you play with that smile, that freedom — that's when nobody can touch you."
Enzo exhaled. "I'm scared, Luca."
"Of what?"
"Of disappointing everyone."
Luca placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Then stop playing for everyone. Start playing for the kid who used to juggle in the driveway for hours. That's the one who started all this."
Rediscovery
The next day, Enzo skipped his usual after-school nap.
Instead, he grabbed a ball and walked down the street in a hoodie, away from the houses, toward a small patch of grass behind an old church.
There was no crowd.
No coach.
No tactics.
Just silence and space.
He placed the ball down and started juggling.
One foot.
Then the other.
Step-overs. Flicks. Rain kicking up off the grass. Wind brushing through his hair.
His smile returned — slowly at first. Then fully.
For the first time since the derby, he felt alive.
He felt free.
Coach Ferretti's Words
The next day at Milanello, Coach Ferretti noticed the difference.
Enzo was laughing again. Making nutmegs in training. Trying backheels that nobody else would dare.
After practice, the coach walked beside him.
"Feeling better?"
Enzo nodded. "I remembered why I play."
Ferretti grinned.
"Good. Now let's build something that lasts longer than fame."
That Night – The Journal
Enzo sat on his bed, scribbling into his notebook.
Under "Why I Play", he wrote:
"To feel light."
"To smile like a kid again."
"To bring joy to others — without losing mine."
Then he drew a small cartoon of himself — doing a rainbow flick over a defender with a huge grin on his face.