The match resumed with FC Kolkheti 1913 now chasing an equaliser.
Conceding had forced them out of their defensive shell.
For the first time all afternoon, they began committing more players forward.
That suited Dinamo Tbilisi perfectly.
More space meant more opportunities to counter.
And more space meant more room for Giorgi Loria.
The sixteen-year-old looked full of confidence.
Every touch carried purpose.
Every movement forced Kolkheti’s defenders to think twice.
The goal had changed the rhythm of the match.
Instead of simply waiting for chances to come…
Giorgi began creating them.
Only five minutes after the opener, he drifted toward the right wing to receive possession from Nika Ninua.
Without even looking up, he flicked the ball behind himself with the outside of his boot before spinning around the defender.
The crowd applauded.
His marker had no idea where the ball had gone.
“Wonderful skill from Loria!”
the commentator exclaimed.
“He makes football look so effortless.”
Approaching the edge of the penalty area, Giorgi spotted Tornike Morchiladze darting between the centre-backs.
He whipped a low cross through the six-yard box.
Tornike lunged.
The slightest touch would’ve doubled Dinamo’s lead.
Instead…
The ball skimmed inches beyond his outstretched boot before rolling harmlessly wide.
The travelling supporters groaned.
“What a chance!”
Minutes later…
Dinamo attacked again.
This time through the middle.
Giorgi received the ball just outside the box with his back to goal.
He shielded it brilliantly before laying it off to Giorgi Gvasalia.
Rather than standing still, he immediately spun into space.
The return pass arrived perfectly.
One touch.
Shoot.
His strike bent beautifully toward the far corner.
The goalkeeper flew across goal.
Fingertips.
Corner.
The Dinamo supporters applauded anyway.
The shot deserved a goal.
Kolkheti struggled to contain him.
Their defenders no longer knew whether Giorgi would dribble, shoot or pass.
That uncertainty made him dangerous.
Another attack saw him burst beyond the defensive line before squaring the ball toward Morchiladze once again.
This time a desperate sliding clearance prevented what looked like another certain goal.
The first half finally came to an end.
Dinamo entered the dressing room leading.
<>FC Kolkheti 1913 0–1 Dinamo Tbilisi<>
Zimmer remained composed during halftime.
“No unnecessary risks.”
“We’re controlling the match.”
“Keep controlling it.”
He praised the defensive shape before reminding the midfield not to leave unnecessary spaces during transitions.
Then he looked briefly toward Giorgi.
“Good movement.”
The compliment lasted only two words.
Yet coming from Klaus Zimmer…
It meant far more than an entire speech.
Giorgi simply nodded.
“Thank you, Coach.”
The second half continued much like the first.
Dinamo monopolised possession.
Kolkheti chased shadows.
The home crowd attempted to lift their players, but every promising attack broke down before reaching the penalty area.
The commentators summed it up perfectly.
“Kolkheti simply cannot get hold of the football.”
“Dinamo are controlling every aspect of this match.”
The stadium clock eventually reached the seventieth minute.
Zimmer turned toward his bench.
“Vakhtang.”
The veteran striker stood immediately.
“Loria.”
Giorgi looked over.
“Good work.”
The teenager nodded before jogging toward the touchline.
As the substitution board rose…
The travelling supporters applauded warmly.
He clapped back toward them before leaving the pitch.
But it had been an intelligent one.
One goal involvement.
Several chances created.
Another solid display.
Zimmer greeted him with a brief handshake.
“Well played.”
Simple.
Professional.
Yet a few months ago…
Those words would never have come from the German manager.
Vakhtang Salia wasted little time making an impact.
Fresh legs proved invaluable.
Only ten minutes after entering…
Dinamo launched another swift attack.
Nika Ninua found Vakhtang between the lines.
Rather than forcing a difficult shot…
The experienced striker slipped a perfectly weighted through ball behind Kolkheti’s defence.
Running onto it…
Tornike Morchiladze.
One touch.
One finish.
Goal.
The away supporters celebrated again.
<>FC Kolkheti 1913 0–2 Dinamo Tbilisi<>
Tornike pointed toward Vakhtang in appreciation before embracing him.
The commentators couldn’t hide their admiration.
“That’s five league goals now for Tornike Morchiladze.”
“What a start to the season.”
A graphic appeared moments later.
League Top Scorers
1.
Bjørn Johnsen (Torpedo Kutaisi) – 6 Goals
2.Tornike Morchiladze (Dinamo Tbilisi) – 5 Goals
The twenty-three-year-old had quickly established himself as one of the league’s most dangerous forwards.
The remaining minutes passed without much drama.
Dinamo comfortably managed possession until the referee finally ended the contest.
Full time.
FC Kolkheti 1913 0–2 Dinamo Tbilisi
Another clean sheet.
Another victory.
Another three points.
The evening’s post-match analysis focused less on Dinamo’s attack and more on Kolkheti’s inability to respond.
One former Georgian international shook his head while reviewing the statistics.
“Two.”
“Only two attempts on goal.”
“In ninety minutes.”
He pointed toward the tactical board.
“That’s simply not enough.”
Another analyst agreed.
“Credit has to go to Dinamo.”
“They suffocated Kolkheti.”
“They controlled possession.”
“They controlled territory.”
“And they controlled the tempo.”
A third pundit smiled.
“People questioned Zimmer’s football.”
“They called it boring.”
“But boring teams don’t usually sit comfortably at the top of the table while conceding so few chances.”
The following day…
Training ended unusually early.
It was Saturday morning.
Most of the squad happily headed home to enjoy the rest of the weekend.
Giorgi, however…
Had another commitment.
A black van waited outside the training ground.
Eric McCain leaned against it with a grin.
“Ready to become an actor?”
Giorgi sighed dramatically.
“I already know I’m going to be terrible.”
Eric laughed.
“We’ll see.”
The filming studio buzzed with activity.
Lighting rigs hung from the ceiling.
Cameras rolled across tracks.
Crew members hurried between sets carrying equipment.
Posters of Mount Kazbegi Cola decorated nearly every wall.
The commercial’s director greeted Giorgi enthusiastically.
“There he is!”
“Our villain.”
Giorgi blinked.
The director nodded excitedly.
“The advertisement is about spies and villains.”
“You’ll see.”
Another familiar face approached moments later.
“Mikheil Meskhi.”
The legendary Georgian actor extended his hand warmly.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Giorgi shook it respectfully.
“The honour’s mine.”
“I’ve watched your films.”
Mikheil laughed.
“And I’ve watched your goals.”
“I’d say we’re even.”
The ice was broken immediately.
Filming began shortly afterward.
The concept turned out to be surprisingly entertaining.
Mikheil played an elite spy attempting to recover a stolen briefcase.
Giorgi portrayed the charismatic young villain responsible for stealing it.
The chase involved dramatic slow-motion scenes, exaggerated fight choreography and plenty of humour.
In the final scene…
Instead of fighting over secret documents…
The briefcase opened to reveal bottles of Mount Kazbegi Cola.
Both characters paused.
Looked at each other.
Then shrugged before sitting down together to enjoy a drink.
The director burst into laughter.
“Perfect.”
The only problem…
Was acting.
At first, Giorgi felt unbelievably awkward.
Every movement felt forced.
Every line sounded unnatural.
After the first take, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I look ridiculous.”
Mikheil chuckled.
“Everyone does on their first day.”
“Relax.”
“Just enjoy yourself.”
The advice helped.
By the third take…
Then the fourth…
His confidence steadily improved.
Soon enough…
The cameras stopped rolling.
The director clapped enthusiastically.
“Excellent!”
He pointed toward Giorgi.
“You’ve got natural screen presence.”
The teenager looked around in confusion.
“Me?”
“You.”
“I expected dozens of retakes.”
“We barely needed any.”
Giorgi smiled sheepishly.
“Maybe football prepared me for cameras.”
After wrapping up, Eric handed him a bottle of water as they walked toward the parking area.
“You did well.”
“I still think I looked awkward.”
“You always think that.”
Eric opened the passenger door.
“The editing team will make everything look even better.”
“When does it come out?”
“Somewhere between three and six weeks.”
Giorgi nodded.
“Nice.”
Eric expected more excitement.
Instead…
The teenager stared absentmindedly out the car window.
“What are you thinking about?”
“The next match.”
Eric laughed.
“I should’ve known.”
“Against Samgurali.”
Giorgi smiled.
“I’ve already started thinking about how they defend.”
Eric shook his head in amusement.
“A commercial.”
“A sponsorship.”
“Your face is about to be on billboards across Georgia…”
“And all you care about is the next ninety minutes.”
Giorgi shrugged.
“That’s because football comes first.”
Eric couldn’t argue with that.
Not when that exact mindset had turned a little-known academy striker into one of the brightest young talents in Georgian football.