Manchester United U18’s attacking shape sat very high up the pitch.
Which meant the most important thing on a counter-attack wasn’t accuracy.
It was making the right decision fast.
If the pass came even a beat too slow, the older, more experienced U18 side would shut the counter down without breaking a sweat.
Tomás’s fake pass a moment ago had fooled McTominay and the rest of the U18 defense.
They had all leaned toward Rashford, the biggest threat on the pitch.
Then Tomás went the other way.
It looked like a pass hoofed into a crowd of players, but in reality, it was into a pocket of space where the U18 defenders were scrambling to recover, all bunched together.
Sam Smith made his run with a specific purpose.
Smith was tall, and he was fast.
Usually, anyone taller than him was slower, and anyone faster was shorter.
The U16 striker, nicknamed “the Scout Plane,” was excellent in the air.
Nick Cox, the academy director, knew this.
Paul McGuinness knew this too, having watched him closely in trials over the past two days.
Passing to Rashford on the left or Tosin Kehinde on the right looked like the obvious choices.
In reality, passing to Rashford would force him into a packed defense, and Tosin was too far from the box to be an immediate threat.
Passing to the attacking midfielder, McNeil, would give the U18 defense time to set up and kill the counter.
Those options looked reasonable on paper, but they were safe, middling choices.
Any decent player could have made one of those three calls.
But Tomás made a brilliant choice.
Up in the attacking third, Sam Smith kept accelerating as the ball dropped.
He wanted to bring it down and go one-on-one with the keeper.
He couldn’t manage a clean touch, and only managed to flick it on with his head.
Smith frowned, frustrated he’d missed his chance to show off his finishing.
But for the U16 side, that little flick was enough.
Rashford, who had been offside a second ago, tore toward the loose ball the moment he was clear.
“So fast!”
“Rashford’s going one-on-one with the keeper!”
The crowd gasped at his sheer explosiveness.
He brought the ball down, touched it forward, and surged past the back line in one powerful run.
Even the U18 defenders could only watch him pull away.
U18 goalkeeper Dean Henderson came off his line the second Rashford entered the box.
Henderson had joined the academy in 2011 and gone through the youth trial camp alongside Tomás.
He had joined the U16 side with Tomás, Rashford, and McTominay.
He knew Rashford’s game too well.
Leaving Rashford unpressured in a one-on-one was suicide.
He had to force a shot immediately.
Arms out, legs spread, Henderson slid straight at him.
Rashford didn’t even bother shooting.
A quick feint, a shift of weight, and Henderson was beaten.
“Genius!”
“That’s the most confident choice possible! That’s Ronaldo, that’s what that is!”
The crowd gasped again.
Rashford walked the ball into the open net.
1-0.
United’s U16 side had the lead.
The parents in the stands erupted.
If the U16 side could beat the U18 team, there would almost certainly be more promotion spots available.
Beating them was in everyone’s interest.
“How did we go from getting battered to leading?” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“I can’t believe this.”
“Marcus is a genius!”
And their opponents were U18 players, a whole level above them.
“Marcus is a genius, sure, but the real key was the pass,” Aunt Melanie said, smiling.
She knew half the crowd was looking her way.
The envious glances shifted from Aunt Melanie to Nuno and Mrs.
Ferreira.
The mood in the stands stayed oddly quiet for a moment.
Nobody could quite accept that Tomás might be a genius too.
But for his parents, that was enough.
“Tomás is amazing,” Nuno muttered, his voice thick.
He and his wife were beside themselves.
Too reserved by nature to celebrate louder, they just gripped each other’s hands.
Next to them, Mrs.
Palmer’s face soured.
“If that pass was planned, then Paul was right. He really is a genius,” Nick Cox said, sitting back in his seat.
Ed Woodward nodded.
He hadn’t understood it at first, but now he did.
Rashford had scored the goal, but the other kid had broken the deadlock, cracking the U18 defense open with one pass.
Was it a lucky break, or a planned move?
He was curious now.
“The brilliance of two geniuses.” Liverpool’s technical director, Michael Edwards, leaned forward.
“What’s the name of the kid who made that pass?”
Out on the pitch, Rashford didn’t celebrate alone.
He sprinted back to the U16 half to celebrate with Tomás and the rest of his teammates.
“Tomás, you’re a genius!”
“You too, Marcus!”
Getting thrashed 10-0 by a U18 side wouldn’t have been shameful.
The gap in physical levels was massive.
Which made scoring even once worth everything.
The rest of the team piled on, praising Tomás.
Tomás ducked his head, embarrassed by the attention.
Passing always triggers a notification from the system.
Will defending or shooting trigger one too?
“Hey, hey, you’re all praising Marcus and Tomás, but did you forget the assist came from me? The great Manchester United striker, Sam Smith!”
Rashford stared at Smith.
The rest of the team did the same.
Tomás cleared his throat.
“Sam’s touch was the key part of that.”
“Did you hear that? The great Tomás said I was the key!”
Tomás blinked.
Since when did I become “the great Tomás”?
Smith stood tall, thoroughly pleased with himself.
“I always said the reason I struggled wasn’t that I couldn’t play, it’s that nobody passing me the ball was good enough. Now that Tomás is feeding me? This striker is shining brighter than ever!”
That was enough.
He was already bragging.
If he kept going, it would cross the line into disrespecting Joe Palmer.
“We scored first. The U18s are going to be furious, and this match just got harder. Everyone on defense, lock in! As for attack…” He looked at Tomás and smiled.
“Anytime we win the ball back, it goes straight to Tomás. Tomás, once we have possession, you run the attack. Take your time, don’t give it away cheap. We can’t afford a turnover.”
Nobody argued with Tuanzebe.
Respect wasn’t given; it was earned.
From here on out, Tomás was the undisputed heart of the midfield.
“Tomás, that work for you?”
Tomás took a deep breath.
He nodded firmly.
“No problem.”
The match restarted.
Tuanzebe realized he had underestimated just how angry the U18 side would be.
After bringing Pereira down to stop a run, Tuanzebe used the dead-ball stoppage to gather his teammates.
“Forget the attack! Everyone drop back to defend! We aim for Counter-Attack play”
Counter-Attack?
Is this really the time?
Tomás, Rashford, Sam Smith—everyone dropped back.
“Sam, drop in as the third center-back!”
“You have to let the great striker—”
“Shut it!” Tuanzebe cut him off.
The hot-tempered Smith went quiet and jogged back into the defensive line.
Once Smith dropped in as the third center-back, the shaky U16 defense held together.
Breaking down a packed defense was its own complicated skill.
Tomás breathed easier.
“Tomás, catch!” Tuanzebe shouted, winning the ball back again.
“Leave it to me!”
Tomás took the ball and lifted his head, looking for his next pass.
A huge shadow fell over him.
“Tomás. Nice work out there.”
Tomás looked up.
He froze.
“Captain?”
It was Joe Rothwell, the U18 captain and former U16 captain, more than two years older than Tomás.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Joe Rothwell: a dangerous elite monster, fully professional in ability and physique, specifically targeting you!
Ding, do you want to take him on?
Ding, every forward passing lane is blocked.
Ding, in 0.5 seconds, you will lose both the ball and your footing.
The captain has me targeted?
Take him on?
Yeah, right.
Tomás’s reflexes weren’t exceptional, but he turned immediately to shield the ball.
Running away might be shameful, but it worked.
In the same instant, Tomás took a heavy hit from behind.
Pain flared across his shoulder.
They had nearly conceded possession right there.
He stayed low, body turned inward to protect the ball, his eyes wide.
He felt like he had just opened the door to an entirely new world.