The Cidade do Galo was buzzing, a nervous energy vibrating through the air that had nothing to do with the humidity and everything to do with the fact that Grêmio was coming to town. In the world of Brazilian football, Grêmio wasn't just a team; they were a cynical, masterful art project designed to make opponents miserable.
Inside the meeting room, Commander Rocha looked less like a coach and more like a mad scientist trying to solve a Rubik's cube while riding a unicycle. He was pointing at the screen, but his laser pointer was moving too fast to follow.
"Look, look, look!" Rocha shouted, exasperated. "Grêmio doesn't defend space; they defend ankles! They are instructed to commit tactical fouls the moment the ball crosses the halfway line. If we try to play through the middle, we will lose players to injury faster than you can all sip a cup of coffee!"
He shifted the diagram with a violent swipe.
"This is where Thiago comes in. He is going to be the variable. When they crowd the center, we must utilize the inverted wingers to pull their fullbacks inward, opening the channels. Thiago, you are not a midfielder today; they will mark you out of the game. You are a phantom. You appear in the space they decide is too small to matter."
Before they could think about winning, they had to look at the harsh reality of the Série A table. It was tighter than a goalkeeper's jersey after ninety minutes. Flamengo was sitting top of the pile with 23 points, closely followed by Palmeiras on 22. Atlético-MG was lurking in third with 18 points, just one point ahead of Grêmio in fourth.
"We are third," Rocha said, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "Third! That is unacceptable! A win puts us closer to the top, but a loss? A loss puts us behind Grêmio. The table is a knife edge, gentlemen. Don't fall off."
The battle for the top spot was just as chaotic as the top scorers list. Hulk was sitting on 8 goals, tied with Pedro from Flamengo, but a young striker from Fortaleza was breathing down their necks with 7. The assists leaderboard was equally absurd, with Gustavo Scarpa sitting comfortably at the top with 6, proving that even a broken clock is right twice a day—unless that clock is a tactical maestro.
Later, during the light tactical session on the pitch, Thiago was practicing receiving the ball with his back to goal, aiming to turn in one motion—the essence of the Bergkamp Flick. Battaglia, the veteran center-back, approached him slowly, looking like a man who had seen too many wars.
"You have talent, kid," Battaglia said, his voice gravelly. "But against Grêmio, talent gets you a yellow card. You need to know when to play the ball and when to hold it."
"I don't hold the ball, Battaglia," Thiago replied, looking at the System's projection of the turn. "I just move it faster than the defender can think."
Battaglia laughed, a harsh sound. "They'll think for you when they lunge at your knees. Just... keep your eyes up little guy. You see the gaps, but you need to see the fouls, too."
Meanwhile, Tico was dealing with a new crisis. The "Dirt Pitch Flick" video had caught the attention of a major Hollywood production company looking for a stunt double for a football movie, and they were offering a ridiculous amount of money.
"No, I don't care if he only has to kick it into a dumpster!" Tico shouted into his phone, standing in the middle of the training pitch.
"He's not a stuntman! He's a professional! But... if you raise the offer by twenty percent, I might be able to convince him that dumping trash is a form of 'tactical training'."
Thiago looked at his agent, shook his head, and focused on the ball. The Grêmio match was tomorrow. The speculation about the Copa América was still echoing in the media, but Thiago knew that if he couldn't survive Grêmio, the national team was just a daydream.
While Atlético geared up for war, the rest of the league was bracing for impact. Flamengo was facing a tricky away match against a rejuvenated Santos, a game that could determine if they kept their lead. Palmeiras had a relatively easy home game against Cuiabá, a match they were expected to dominate.
The pundits were already calling it a "defining weekend," but Thiago knew that all the table standings and top-scorer debates were worthless if they couldn't handle the cynical gambit Grêmio was about to play.