POV: Demien Walter
The blue bib felt light against his chest. Demien stood in a loose circle with his teammates, passing the ball around to stay warm.
Luca wore the captain's armband on his left bicep. He looked calm, focused. "We stick to the plan. Possession. Control. Don't force anything." He glanced at Demien with a slight smile. "Though after watching you yesterday, I don't think we'll need to force much."
Matteo Ferrari stretched his hamstrings beside Demien. "That lofted chip in the six-versus-six. I was watching from the sideline. Made it look effortless."
"Got lucky with the bounce," Demien said.
"Luck doesn't score two goals and set up two more." Matteo straightened up. "And it definitely doesn't give you a four point eight sprint time."
"The scouts are still talking about that," Luca added. "I overheard them when I walked past earlier."
Paolo Martinez jogged past, clapping his hands. "Let's go, let's go. Stay focused."
The referee checked his watch, then blew his whistle. "Teams to position. Captains, center circle for the coin toss."
Luca and Gianluca met at midfield. The ref flipped a coin. Luca called it. Gianluca's team won the toss and chose to kick off.
Demien took his position in central midfield. Matteo was to his left. Sergio Alvarez to his right. Luca sat just behind them, the deepest midfielder. Paolo and Federico pushed higher, closer to the forwards.
Across the field, Gianluca stood at the center spot, the ball at his feet. His eyes found Demien's.
The referee raised his whistle.
The crowd quieted.
The whistle blew.
Gianluca touched the ball forward to Martinelli, and the match began.
_ _ _ _ _
The first whistle blew sharp and clear.
Gianluca touched the ball to Martinelli, who immediately laid it back to Enzo Bianchi in central midfield. Team 2 probed forward cautiously, testing Team 1's defensive shape.
Martinelli received on the right wing and attempted to cut inside. Esposito read the movement early, stepping across to block the angle. Martinelli passed backward to Liam Hughes at right back.
Hughes played it square to Roberto Costa. The center back looked up and hit a diagonal ball toward Paolo Gallo on the left wing. Federico Rossi, Team 1's left back, jumped to head it clear. The ball dropped to Luca Bianchi in central midfield.
Luca took one touch to control, then passed it backward to Jonathan Müller. The center back looked up, scanning for options. Demien had already dropped deep between the defenders, showing for the ball with his hands slightly raised.
Müller passed it into Demien's feet.
Two defenders closed immediately—Julian Weber from the right, Enzo Bianchi from the left. The passing lanes compressed.
Demien's world slowed.
Andrea Pirlo: Deep-Lying Playmaker activated. Enhanced vision flooded his awareness. He could see the field like a chessboard—every player's position, every gap, every potential movement before it happened.
He touched the ball with his right foot, opening his body to face forward. Weber lunged. Demien shifted the ball left with the sole of his boot, creating half a yard of space.
His eyes tracked Matteo Ferrari making a diagonal run from right midfield into the left channel. The movement pulled Marco Valenti, Team 2's center back, out of position.
Demien applied Curve Run Timing. His body angled slightly, bending his run path to create the perfect passing lane. He struck the ball with the outside of his right boot, threading it between Valenti and Diego Marquez.
The ball rolled perfectly weighted into Matteo's path.
Matteo collected it in stride, his first touch taking him toward the penalty area. He cut inside, but Gianluca Romano had recovered quickly. The angle was too tight.
Matteo laid it back to Paolo Martinez on the left side. Paolo recycled possession with a pass to Luca in the center circle.
"Good vision!" Luca called, raising one hand.
Coach Mancini clapped twice from the touchline. "Exactly! Control the tempo. Build patiently."
Near the fence, the Atalanta scout leaned forward, his pen moving rapidly across his notebook. The Sampdoria scout beside him whispered something, gesturing toward Demien.
The match settled into a rhythm. Team 1 controlled possession with patience and precision. Team 2 pressed in organized waves, trying to force turnovers.
In the eighth minute, Gianluca Romano won the ball in midfield with a strong tackle on Paolo Martinez. He immediately played it forward to Ferrari, the center forward.
Ferrari held the ball up with his back to goal, feeling pressure from Müller. He laid it off to Julian Weber, who attempted a diagonal pass toward Martinelli on the right wing.
The pass was slightly underhit.
Demien read it two steps early. He intercepted cleanly near the center circle, his first touch taking the ball forward.
Three strides. Four. He drove into space.
Ahead, Alessandro Moretti peeled away from Marco Valenti, making a run toward the right channel. The gap between Valenti and Diego Marquez opened like a door.
Demien applied Curve Run Timing again, his body shape creating the angle. He struck the ball with the outside of his right boot, bending it around Enzo Bianchi and into Moretti's path.
The through ball was perfectly weighted.
Moretti latched onto it, his pace carrying him clear. He cut inside toward goal, one-on-one with Bellini.
He pulled his foot back and shot.
The ball flew just wide of the far post, kissing the outside of the net.
Moretti dropped his head, hands on his hips.
Coach Mancini clapped hard. "Better! Keep finding those pockets, Walter!"
The Atalanta scout stood slightly, his phone now out, recording the next sequence.
Near him, another scout—James Riccardo from Parma—leaned forward and scribbled rapidly in his notebook. He underlined something twice, then circled Demien's number: 18.
"Did you see that body shape?" Riccardo whispered to the scout beside him. "That's not something you teach. That's instinct."
"Or experience," the other scout replied quietly.
The match settled into a rhythm. Team 1 controlled possession with patience and precision. Team 2 pressed in organized waves, trying to force turnovers.
In the fifteenth minute, Team 1 built from the back. Marco Leone rolled the ball to Müller. The center back passed it square to Rinaldi, who played it forward to Luca in midfield.
Luca turned and threaded a pass to Demien between two pressing defenders. Demien received it just inside Team 2's half, thirty yards from goal.
Julian Weber and Enzo Bianchi closed on him immediately, trying to trap him between them. Demien touched the ball right with the outside of his boot, then dragged it left with his sole. Half a yard of space opened.
He saw the gap—Roberto Costa had stepped up too high, Marco Valenti was ball-watching. The penalty area sat exposed for one second.
Demien activated Lofted Dink. His right foot struck under the ball with perfect backspin. The ball lifted delicately, floating over Weber's outstretched leg, curling slightly as it sailed toward the far post.
Bellini, the goalkeeper, scrambled backward. His fingers stretched. Too late.
The ball dipped under the crossbar and kissed the inside of the net.
The crowd erupted.
Demien turned, his chest tight with adrenaline. His teammates swarmed him. Luca grabbed his shoulder. Paolo ruffled his hair.
"That was filthy," Matteo said, grinning.
From the stands, Marco Benetti was on his feet, clapping hard.
James Riccardo, the Parma scout, circled something in his notebook and leaned over to whisper to the man beside him.
Coach Mancini stood with his arms crossed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
On the opposite touchline, Coach Ricci, Team 2's manager, shook his head and barked at his defenders. "Valenti! Costa! You gave him the space! Tighter!"
Demien jogged back to his position. His heart pounded, but his mind stayed clear. One goal. One step closer to the mission.