To the frantic Fiorentina fans, Ethan Cross had done nothing since coming on.
No spark.
No threat.
Just safe, forgettable passes.
But from the touchline, Montella saw something else entirely.
“Too composed.
This kid is way too composed.”
Montella kept the thought to himself, but he couldn’t stop marveling.
Amateurs watch the ball.
Coaches watch everything else.
When Ethan first stepped on, Montella had been worried about how the midfield would hold up.
Now that worry was gone.
Ethan’s handling of possession was rock solid.
He demanded the ball from teammates without hesitation.
But once he had it, he never held it too long.
He released it before defenders could close him down.
In the 4-3-3 shape, Ethan sat in the middle of the midfield three.
Even with attacking responsibilities, the first job in that position wasn’t creating chances.
It was protecting the ball.
Because directly behind that spot stood the back line.
Any sloppiness there invited the deadliest kind of counterattack, one that threatened the defense immediately.
Ethan had handled that responsibility perfectly since stepping onto the pitch.
A sixteen-year-old, his team trailing, and he stayed calm.
Clear-headed.
Especially for an attacking midfielder.
He didn’t rush forward trying to prove himself, didn’t add chaos to an already unstable match.
That kind of maturity was rare.
Ethan Cross played with his brain.
Montella had never expected a player with zero professional experience to look this steady in his Serie A debut.
Ethan had already blown past every expectation.
And there was more.
His movement off the ball was relentless.
Even without possession, Ethan kept working to create opportunities for the team.
Dropping to support teammates.
Dragging defenders to open space in midfield.
Fiorentina’s entire midfield looked more alive because of his running.
And for Ethan, every minute on the pitch built more confidence.
He had prepared for this moment.
Serie A was one of Europe’s top five leagues.
Ethan felt that pressure the second he stepped on.
But it didn’t break him.
He adjusted fast because he stuck to one core principle.
Play to your strengths.
Hide your weaknesses.
His greatest weapon right now was short passing.
So he leaned on it completely.
Amplify the strength.
Conceal the flaw.
That discipline created the image of a player who simply couldn’t lose the ball.
One touch, gone.
No risk, ever.
His Fiorentina teammates noticed it too.
He’d barely been with the squad.
This was his first real match alongside them.
Yet nothing felt off.
The team’s rhythm stayed smooth.
And his constant movement had injected life into a midfield that had been stagnant all match.
In training, Ethan’s style had always felt composed, far beyond his age.
But training intensity and match intensity were different worlds.
No one knew how he’d handle the real thing.
Now every doubt had vanished.
That growing trust meant his teammates passed to him more often.
And with more touches came more chances to make something happen.
76th minute.
Aquilani fed Ethan the ball.
Without breaking stride, Ethan fired a first-time pass forward.
Salah, cutting in from the wing, collected it and ripped a shot.
The keeper saved it, but it was Fiorentina’s best chance of the second half.
The pass was sharp.
Genoa didn’t think much of it.
But it stirred something in the away section.
“That wasn’t bad at all.”
“Finally, a dangerous ball after all those safe ones.”
“Probably just got lucky.”
“Has to be.
He’s done nothing all match.
Feels like a fluke.”
Seeing Fiorentina’s wing play flicker back to life, Genoa refocused on protecting the flanks.
But Ethan’s next cut went straight through the middle.
And this time, the blade tore everything apart.
79th minute.
Genoa’s defense saw nothing coming.
Ethan collected the ball in midfield and drove his instep through it, firing a stabbed pass forward.
A scalpel of a through ball that sliced Genoa’s midfield and defense wide open.
It threaded a gap between three defenders.
Even Mario Gomez, making his run, felt his heart jump.
This kid…
through that?
With the middle that packed?
Gomez wasn’t about to waste a chance like that.
He took the ball in stride, spun, and charged into the box.
Facing the Genoa keeper, he unleashed a brutal, no-nonsense strike.
The ball ripped into the net.
2-2.
Fiorentina had equalized.
The pass had come so suddenly that almost no one was ready for it.
Not the Genoa defenders.
Not even most of Ethan’s own teammates.
Only Mario Gomez had been alive to it.
The Fiorentina fans sat frozen for a second.
Then, a beat after the ball hit the net, the away section exploded.
“It’s in!
It’s in!
We’re level!”
“Gomez!
What a finish!”
“That’s our top scorer!”
“Great strike, but the real credit goes to whoever played that pass.”
“Who even made that?
I didn’t see it coming.
Unreal!”
“Wait…
that assist came from the Chinese kid?”