“That’s why we need to make a move early.”
Diego Simeone stared at Tobías.
“If we wait until his physique is fully developed, and until other clubs in Europe see his defensive value, it will be too late.”
He paused for a moment before adding, “Right now, Europe is chasing midfielders who can pass and control, but the ones who can truly suppress pass-and-control are people like him.”
“He doesn’t need to knock you flying.”
“He will make it so you can’t pass, make it so you can’t receive the ball, and make it so your rhythm is broken from the very first touch.”
Diego Simeone took out his phone and dialed immediately.
Once the call connected, he skipped the pleasantries: “Help me contact the River Plate sporting director.”
The accompanying staff’s expression changed.
Diego Simeone continued, “Yes, right now.”
“That midfielder, Tobías.”
“I want his data, contract situation, buyout clause, all the information.”
The person on the other end of the line seemed to ask something.
Diego Simeone’s tone was firm: “It’s not just interest, it’s an offer.”
“In the summer transfer window, I want to bring him to Atlético Madrid.”
On the pitch, in the final minutes of the first half, Boca Juniors were still pushing.
But the more they played, the more anxious they became.
Paredes dropped back to receive the ball, but just as he turned, Tobías had already sealed the central lane.
He had no choice but to pass back.
The Boca Juniors defensive midfielder distributed it to the flank, and the winger tried to play a through ball, but Tobías shifted horizontally ahead of time, cutting off the passing lane.
The Boca Juniors winger was so frustrated that he just kicked the ball forward, only for it to be easily collected by the River Plate center back.
The applause from the River Plate stands grew louder and louder.
“Tobías!”
“Tobías!”
“Tobías!”
This name began to transition from scattered shouts into a rhythm across the entire stand.
Giovanni looked back at Tobías, his face beaming with excitement.
Gate panted as he gave a thumbs up: “Brother, you’ve locked them down!”
Tobías didn’t speak; he just continued standing in midfield.
If Boca Juniors wanted to attack from the left, he shifted left.
If Boca Juniors wanted to pivot from the right, he retreated early.
If Boca Juniors wanted to find Paredes, he blocked Paredes’ most comfortable angle for receiving the ball.
He didn’t steal the spotlight, and he didn’t tackle recklessly.
Yet every single Boca Juniors attack died at his feet.
In the first minute of stoppage time, Paredes finally couldn’t help but force a dribble.
He performed a series of stepovers, trying to slip past Tobías’s right side.
Tobías still didn’t stick out a foot; he just followed by backing up half a step, forcing Paredes toward the sideline.
By the time Paredes tried to turn again, Gate had already rushed up.
The two closed in, and the ball was forced out of play. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
The referee checked the time and blew the whistle for the end of the first half.
River Plate led Boca Juniors 1–0.
The River Plate players gasped for air as they walked toward the locker room one by one.
No one spoke on the Boca Juniors side.
Paredes kept his head down, his forehead covered in sweat.
He hadn’t played poorly in the first half; in fact, for the first twenty minutes, he had almost controlled the match.
But from the moment of Tobías’s first interception that led to an assist, to the subsequent continuous locking down of passing lanes, Boca Juniors’ offense had been completely cut off.
As a talented midfielder chased by European giants, he simply hadn’t been able to get the ball into River Plate’s truly dangerous areas again.
On the sidelines, Gil and other players walked over and slapped Tobías on the shoulder.
“Well done!”
He couldn’t suppress the excitement in his voice, “Tobías, you played so well in the first half!”
Gate laughed and chimed in: “Coach, you should say he locked Paredes inside a locker.”
The locker room was filled with laughter.
Gil didn’t laugh for long; he looked at everyone, and his tone suddenly turned serious.
“Listen, Boca Juniors will definitely be anxious in the second half.”
“They are trailing, their talented midfielder has been restricted by Tobías, and they won’t be content.”
“So, I want each of you to remember: don’t get provoked, don’t lose your cool, and don’t get into conflicts with them.”
He stopped there, his gaze sweeping over Giovanni and Gate.
“Especially you two.”
Giovanni immediately spread his hands: “Coach, I am very calm.”
Gate also nodded: “Me too.”
Gil sneered: “The two of you combined aren’t even half as calm as Tobías.”
The teammates laughed again.
Gil raised a hand to quiet them down and continued: “In the second half, protect Tobías.
Boca Juniors won’t watch him keep playing like this; they will come for him.”
“Whoever dares to make a dirty tackle on Tobías, you surround them immediately, but don’t lay a hand on them.”
Giovanni grinned: “Coach, surrounding them without doing anything, that’s hard.”
Gil glared at him: “If you get sent off, I will call your father personally.”
Giovanni’s face fell: “Don’t, please don’t.”
The laughter in the locker room grew louder.
Bebe chimed in from the side: “Coach, you should say you’ll call your daughter.”
Gil’s face darkened immediately: “Shut up!”
Now, everyone couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Ooh—”
“The coach is flustered!”
“Who doesn’t know that Giovanni wants to meet the coach’s daughter?”
Giovanni immediately jumped up: “Nonsense! This chapter is updated first at g.com.
I don’t!”
Gate laughed so hard he slapped the bench: “You’re blushing!”
Gil was so angry he tapped the locker with his tactical board: “Everyone shut up!
If anyone dares to mess around in the second half, your training volume will be doubled!”
The laughter slowly died down.
Tobías sat in the corner, wiping his sweat with a towel.
The noise outside, the teammates’ teasing, and Gil’s angry shouting all felt distant, as if separated by a layer.
He didn’t join in the horseplay.
In his mind, every touch, every interception, and every piece of positioning from the first half were replaying over and over.
The direction of Paredes’ shoulders before receiving the ball, the running trajectory of the Boca Juniors winger when cutting inside.
The gap left after Gate pressed forward, the timing of Giovanni’s start during the counterattack.
He broke these scenes down bit by bit, reviewing them again.
In the Boca Juniors locker room, no one spoke.
Paredes sat on the bench, the front of his jersey soaked with sweat.
He kept his head down, his hands resting on his knees, but his mind was filled with those moments from the first half.
The first time, he was advancing continuously, only to have the ball stolen by Tobías from the side-rear, followed by a River Plate counterattack that pierced through, leading to a Giovanni goal.
The second time, Boca Juniors had already executed a three-on-two, and the ball was about to reach his feet, but Tobías had stood there half a step ahead and poked the ball away.
The rest was even more painful.
He wanted to receive the ball, and Tobías blocked the passing lane.
He wanted to make a forward run, and Tobías blocked the landing spot.
He wanted to drop back and orchestrate, but Tobías wouldn’t rush him; he just stood in his most uncomfortable position.
This feeling was more suffocating than being taken down by a sliding tackle.
If he lost a physical duel, he could accept it.
If he couldn’t outrun someone, he could also accept it.
But Tobías wasn’t relying on speed, nor was he relying on his physique.
It was as if Tobías had already seen through his thoughts in advance.
The Boca head coach walked over to him, bent down, and spoke in a very low voice.
“Paredes, look at me.”
Paredes raised his head.
The Boca head coach stared at him: “You didn’t play poorly in the first half.”
Paredes’ lips moved: “But I had the ball stolen from me by him twice.”
“That is not the most important thing.”
The Boca head coach interrupted directly, “Your real problem is that from the moment you had the ball stolen the first time, you put your attention in the wrong place.”
Paredes was stunned.
The Boca head coach continued, “You are thinking about Roma, thinking about Paris, thinking about Juve, and thinking about how those scouts see you.”
“You are still thinking that you must prove you are stronger than that River Plate player.”
“That is why every time you have the ball, you want to do something more beautiful, more direct, and more like a core player.”
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