Both his parents wanted Sandro to go out on loan and gain experience. Even Inzaghi, though he hadn't said it outright, clearly hoped he would go somewhere else to level up first. After all, top-tier clubs rarely provided the right environment for young players to develop.
It would have been a different story if Sandro had been groomed as the club's future star from a young age. The problem was that, until now, he had been little more than a background NPC. He had only gotten into the Milan youth academy thanks to his parents' connections in the first place. Had it not been for his striking good looks, he would have been completely invisible.
Sure, he had just played one brilliant half of football, but expecting the club to suddenly treat him like their crown prince was an absolute delusion.
Of course, from Sandro's perspective, things looked a little different. Knowing he had a System cheat, he was absolutely certain he could secure a spot in the first team. The only thing tying him in knots was the Baggio Template.
After all, this was the man who had dazzled an entire era while playing on one and a half legs...
He could always return to Milan later. He could always play in the Champions League later. What terrified him was the thought of missing this opportunity and losing the Baggio Template forever.
No one knew a son better than his mother. One look at his face, and Olivia could tell he had made up his mind.
"Have you decided?" Olivia asked, flicking him lightly on the forehead. "Brescia?"
"I've decided," Sandro said, stretching lazily. "Brescia it is."
"Why not Sampdoria?" Xiao Zhe asked curiously. "They're in Serie A, after all..."
Before he could even finish, Olivia swatted his arm. "Do you have any idea how far that is from Milan?"
Sampdoria was based in Genoa, over 140 kilometers away from Milan, whereas Brescia was only about 80 kilometers out. According to the universal maternal law of "the closer to home, the better," Brescia naturally blew Sampdoria out of the water.
Xiao Zhe shook his head, utterly failing to comprehend her logic, but he offered his support all the same.
The three of them quickly launched into a deep dive on Brescia. Yet, the deeper they dug, the more alarmed they became, until even the "closer to home is better" argument started losing its charm.
Brescia had put up a decent fight last season, finishing sixth in Serie B to secure a spot in the upper half of the table. Serie B had a quirky set of rules: the top two teams were automatically promoted to Serie A, while third through sixth place battled it out in the play-offs. If they could maintain a steady performance this season, their chances of promotion were actually quite high.
Milan, on the other hand, was currently overflowing with problem children. Between the Wash, Cut, and Blow-Dry Trio of Balotelli, Niang, and El Shaarawy, and the endlessly troublesome Robinho, the squad hardly looked like a team ready to buckle down and focus on football.
But reading further into the data revealed a striking similarity between Brescia and the current Milan: neither club harbored idlers.
Over the course of the 2012–2013 season, Brescia had chewed through three head coaches. Each one had been more unhinged than the last, and all of them had left behind a bizarre legacy.
The first guy, for instance, had experimented with three different formations in a single match, culminating in a disastrous 4–0 defeat. The second guy had been obsessed with making the goalkeeper practice penalty kicks—not saving them, but taking them. The third had fielded three defensive midfielders in a single game, dubbing the tactical monstrosity "the artistic defense of the Renaissance."
Beyond that, the team's top scorer for the entire season had only managed a meager seven goals. Meanwhile, goalkeeper Minelli had been forced to make the most saves in all of Serie B—working so hard that he had actually requested a transfer during the winter window purely out of exhaustion (his request was denied)...
Olivia's resolve wavered. "Are you absolutely sure you want to go there?"
"I'm sure..." Sandro trailed off, suddenly uncertain. "I think?"
What the hell? This place sounded even more chaotic than Milan.
Xiao Zhe twisted the knife. "Their current head coach doesn't look like he'll be sticking around for long, either..."
Brescia's current manager was Marco Giampaolo, who had just taken the reins on July 3. His track record was quite colorful: he had cycled through six different teams in the span of seven years. That included a couple of return stints and short-term gigs that lasted barely four months...
Actually, Sandro knew a thing or two about Giampaolo, largely because the man was destined to manage Milan in the future.
Granted, he would be sacked in less than six months, and his results during that stint were better left unspoken.
What Sandro did not know, however, was that in the original timeline, Giampaolo's current stint at Brescia would last just over two months before he was unceremoniously shown the door. And the man who would replace him was none other than Stefano Pioli.
The very same Stefano Pioli who would eventually lead AC Milan to a Serie A title...
Olivia rubbed her forehead. "Actually, I think Sampdoria sounds lovely right about now..."
Sampdoria was a fine option, but it all depended on the comparison.
Mancini versus Baggio? It was a no-brainer.
"Let's look into them a little more first," Sandro said. "We at least need to know their budget for the season and how strong their current squad is. If they look decent, we'll give it a shot. It's only a one-year loan anyway. Who knows? I might accidentally drag them back up to Serie A and become a local hero overnight."
The couple exchanged a glance, choosing to keep their thoughts to themselves.
Sometimes, it was a good thing for a child to have confidence. It was better not to shoot him down; once he hit a brick wall, he would realize how laughable he actually sounded.
"I've already asked around. Brescia's transfer budget ranks fourth in Serie B this season, and their overall squad strength is solid. The owner is still incredibly ambitious," Xiao Zhe said seriously. "As long as we can guarantee your playing time, it's not a bad choice."
"Then let's talk to them," Sandro said. "Call Mr. Macado. As long as the terms are right, I can report to the club tomorrow."
Macado hadn't left Milan just yet. Instead, he was waiting anxiously in his hotel room for news.
He had already found out that Sampdoria was interested in Sandro, and he'd assumed his own chances were shot. He certainly hadn't expected Xiao Zhe to actually call him back.
Fighting the urge to leap out of his chair, he forced himself to stay calm. "Hello, Professor Xiao."
"I think I need to have a proper conversation with Mr. Marco," Xiao Zhe said. "Face to face."
"Of course," Macado replied. "This is about Sandro's future, after all. We can't be too careful."
"Then set up a time for us. We can head over to Brescia whenever; time really is running short."
"I can call Coach Marco right now," Macado said. "Because you're right, we really don't have much time. Finalizing the terms, the medical, the signing... we have to get all of this done in under two days."
Macado was a man of action. Wasting no time, he made the call and secured an appointment with Giampaolo, then immediately whisked Xiao Zhe and Sandro away toward Brescia.
Brescia's training facility was the Mario Rigamonti Sports Center, sharing a name with their home stadium.
By the time they arrived, Marco Giampaolo was already waiting for them in his office.
He had already reviewed the match footage of the Milan Youth Derby—though, of course, he had only watched the final thirty-something minutes.
Which was why, the moment Xiao Zhe and Sandro stepped into his office, they were met with an almost disturbingly enthusiastic grin...