These words struck Paredes’s heart like a heavy hammer.
He did not argue, because the Boca head coach was right.
In the second half of the first half, he had indeed become impatient.
Every time he got the ball, he wanted to shake off Tobías.
Every time his passing lane was blocked, he wanted to solve it with superior individual skill.
As a result, his play became increasingly chaotic.
The Boca head coach patted his shoulder: “A transfer to a big club isn’t decided by a single move.”
“What they look at is whether you can control the game.”
“You need to face that Tobías squarely.”
“He is not some waste packaged by the media; if he can restrict you, that means he has real substance.”
Paredes’s breathing grew heavy.
The Boca head coach’s voice grew deeper: “But you are not an ordinary player.”
“You are the Boca Juniors number ten.”
“In the second half, forget Roma, forget Paris, forget Juve.”
“Pass the ball out, then receive it back.”
“Get your teammates running.”
“Use passing and control to break River Plate apart.”
“Don’t rush into one-on-ones with Tobías, but if you do face him, use your rhythm to beat him.”
Paredes slowly clenched his fists.
The names of those big clubs in his mind were suppressed bit by bit.
Roma, Paris, Juve.
Scouts, media, market value.
All of them could get lost for now.
Today, here, it is a derby.
What he has to face is not a future contract.
It is Tobías, it is River Plate.
Paredes stood up, his voice not loud, but steady: “Coach, I understand.”
The Boca head coach nodded: “Go take the game back.”
On the other side, inside the River Plate locker room, Gil was still emphasizing defensive positioning.
“Boca Juniors will definitely press out in the second half.”
“They won’t accept one-nil.”
“Especially Paredes; there is no way he will just admit defeat like this.”
Gate wiped his sweat and grinned: “Let him come; Tobías and I will continue to lock him down.”
Giovanni immediately interjected: “Just don’t rush in recklessly; who was the one who got dribbled past in the first half?”
Someone in the locker room laughed out loud.
Gate’s face darkened: “Shut up, you wasted a counterattack in the first half too.”
Bebe said from the side: “If you don’t pass to me in the second half, I’m going to curse at you directly.”
Giovanni glared at him: “You get into position first.”
“When have I not been in position?”
The two were about to argue further, but Gil tapped the tactical board directly.
“Enough!”
As soon as the voice fell, the locker room went quiet.
Gil looked at Tobías: “Tobías, in the second half you continue to mark Paredes, but don’t let him drag you too deep to the wing.”
Tobías nodded: “Understood.”
Gil looked at the others: “Listen up, as soon as Tobías intercepts the ball, run forward immediately.”
“Boca Juniors will push up in large numbers; there must be space behind them.”
“What we need to do is not defend until we die.”
“We need to give them a second stab.”
Giovanni’s eyes lit up: “I like that.”
Tobías didn’t speak, just lowered his head to tighten his shoelaces.
The first half had already proven that Paredes was strong.
But the stronger he was, the more predictable his patterns.
All of Boca Juniors’ attacks revolved around him; he was the tempo setter and the outlet for the ball.
As long as he was choked off, no matter how beautiful Boca Juniors’ passing and control were, they would get stuck.
The second-half whistle soon blew.
Boca Juniors kicked off first.
From the very start, their formation had clearly changed.
The two full-backs pressed very high, the defensive midfielder actively moved closer to the center circle, and the three front players constantly switched positions horizontally.
Paredes was no longer rushing to dribble forward like he was in the second half of the first half.
He first dropped back, received the ball, passed horizontally, and then made a forward run.
The ball came out from the feet of the Boca Juniors center back, passed through the defensive midfielder, and then arrived at the wing.
A pass back from the wing, and Paredes appeared in the middle again.
One touch, two touches, three touches.
Boca Juniors’ passing began to accelerate, and the River Plate players were forced to move along with it.
The Boca Juniors fans in the stands started cheering again.
“That’s it!”
“Make them chase the ball!”
“Paredes!
Control the game!”
On the European broadcast feed, the commentary team was reacting.
“Boca Juniors has clearly made adjustments in this second half.”
“This passing and control has a bit of La Masia flavor.”
“Can Tobías still intercept?
They aren’t going head-to-head with you anymore.”
“They hyped him up so much in the first half, hope he doesn’t get run ragged in the second half.”
“Stop hating blindly, his positioning hasn’t been lost.”
“What positioning?
They’ve already passed into River Plate’s half.”
“Slow speed is a fatal flaw; big clubs won’t want this kind of midfielder.”
Some people disagreed.
“Are you all just staring at speed?
He has been blocking the passing lane for Paredes to pass to the middle the whole time.”
“Right, Boca Juniors has been passing for ages, but there aren’t many truly dangerous balls.”
“Don’t just look at who runs fast when watching football.”
But the fiercer the arguments became, the more intense Boca Juniors’ attacks became on the field.
In the 52nd minute, after a dozen consecutive passes, Boca Juniors pushed the ball into River Plate’s half.
Paredes received the ball in the middle, and Gate immediately pressed him.
Paredes didn’t stop the ball; he pushed it with his instep, sending it to a teammate on the right.
Then he immediately bypassed Gate and made a forward run from the other side.
The teammate on the right passed it back, and Paredes distributed it to the wing again.
The Boca Juniors winger went down the flank pretending to cross, but suddenly played a cutback to the half-space.
Paredes appeared there again.
This sequence of passing and running was too fluid.
The River Plate midfield was pulled apart, and a gap finally appeared at the edge of the penalty area.
Someone on the Boca Juniors bench stood up.
“Good!”
“Shoot it in!”
Paredes stopped the ball, and the moment he looked up, the striker had already made a diagonal run, and there was someone supporting in the middle.
But Tobías did not rush at him.
Tobías stood between Paredes and the striker, his body slightly angled, blocking the most dangerous through-ball lane.
Paredes paused for half a beat at his feet, and in that half-beat, the River Plate center back stepped up.
Paredes could only distribute the ball to the wing.
The Boca Juniors winger forced a cross, and the ball was headed out by the River Plate defender.
The Boca Juniors fans let out a collective sigh.
Paredes glanced at Tobías.
Tobías was still standing there, not fast, not aggressive, but he was simply in the way.
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