As Sandro turned to receive the ball, the opposing number 8 pressed him immediately, getting physical.
It was a rough challenge, but Giampaolo looked entirely satisfied.
He wanted to see if the high-pressure defending would distort Sandro's technique or crack his composure.
Sandro's response was exactly what he had hoped for.
Sandro forcefully batted the defender's hands away and used his body to shield the ball. Waiting for the perfect moment, he flicked it toward the goal and exploded forward.
With the first team's head coach watching from the sidelines, there was no way the youth squad was going to hold back. Seeing the fierce display from this outsider, another player immediately lunged in with a sliding tackle.
The reckless challenge made both head coaches frown. Startled, Xiao Zhe threw a displeased glare at the youth team coach, only to find the man's eyes wide with astonishment.
Xiao Zhe quickly turned back to the pitch. Sandro had already sidestepped the sliding tackle and was driving the ball straight toward the Blue Team's penalty area.
The onlookers simultaneously recalled Sandro's previous long-range shot. Macado couldn't help muttering under his breath, "Take the shot. You can do it. You're in range..."
Sandro glanced toward the goal, quickly assessing the goalkeeper's positioning, and wound up for a shot.
The Blue Team's number 4 was brave. Instead of turning his back or side to block the ball, he threw himself forward to challenge the shot head-on.
Standing 1.83 meters and weighing less than 75 kilos, Sandro didn't look anything like a power forward. It was hard to picture him as a long-range specialist, so the number 4 gambled that this was a feint.
He bet the kid was faking it!
Sandro really had meant to feint, intending to break into the penalty box and find a more reliable angle before shooting. But seeing that the defender wasn't biting, he turned his fake into the real thing and struck the ball.
The football flew past, nearly brushing the number 4's ear.
The number 4 shuddered in fright, immediately whipping his head around to watch helplessly as the ball carved a beautiful arc and buried itself into the top corner of the net.
The goalkeeper stood rooted to the spot. He stared blankly at the ball resting in his net, then shifted his dumbfounded gaze to Sandro, who was already smiling outside the penalty box.
Intuition told him he was in for a massive headache today.
Sandro trotted over to the touchline.
No teammates came over to celebrate with him, so he headed straight for his old man, reaching out for a heavy high-five.
Before Xiao Zhe could say a word, Macado lunged forward and threw his arms around Sandro. "Hahaha! Beautiful! I knew you had it in you!"
Giampaolo offered Xiao Zhe a smile and an approving nod.
The youth team head coach looked at his crestfallen players, then back at Sandro. He wanted to curse, but the words wouldn't come out.
Only when Sandro had returned to the pitch did he turn to Giampaolo. "Is Milan's talent pool really that overflowing? A kid of this caliber was left rotting in their reserves, and they're even trying to sell him off?"
"Who knows?" Giampaolo's smile was growing uncontrollably wide. Hitting the nail right on the head regarding Allegri's mindset, he added, "Maybe they think they've already brought back the real Kaka and don't need a second one?"
Macado couldn't help but lean forward to interject. "Correction. He only joined the reserves this season and has played just one match for the U19s. Before that, he was stuck in the U17s..."
"The guys at Milan are completely fucking blind!"
The curse was aimed at Milan's youth academy directors, but Macado still shrank back in embarrassment.
He had watched Milan's U17 matches on more than one occasion and had known about Sandro for a long time. But he could swear to God, the kid back then hadn't shown even a trace of the brilliance he possessed now...
The match continued.
Sandro naturally became the focal point of the defense.
Almost the instant he touched the ball, two or three players would swarm him. Even the Blue Team's forwards joined the aggressive press, as if shutting him down was their sole mission for the entire match.
Sandro didn't stubbornly try to do everything himself. Instead, he actively sought out his teammates for link-up play.
In the fifth minute, he executed consecutive one-two passes with his teammates, driving the ball to the edge of the penalty area before drawing his leg back for a shot.
The opposing defenders jumped like startled birds, swarming forward to block him.
Sandro kept his eyes fixed on the goal, but the instant his right foot met the ball, he slipped a gentle through ball forward.
The ball pierced the defensive line and rolled into the penalty area.
The Yellow Team's number 5 cleanly beat the offside trap and easily slotted the ball into the net.
"Incredible vision! Pinpoint passing!" the youth team head coach exclaimed. "Is he really just a forward?"
"He is indeed just a forward," Xiao Zhe replied with a proud smile. "Because he loves the feeling of putting the ball into the back of the net."
Giampaolo's mind was already racing, visualizing exactly what role Sandro would play once he joined the squad.
It wasn't until the twelfth minute that the Blue Team finally managed to string together a decent attack. However, their final shot was parried away by the goalkeeper, sparking a rapid Yellow Team counterattack.
Sandro dropped back to midfield to receive the ball. Taking a heavy touch forward, he sprinted after it.
Three Blue Team players stepped up to challenge him in quick succession, only for him to dribble past every single one of them.
As he broke into the penalty area, the goalkeeper decisively rushed off his line. Sandro swiftly pulled the trigger, delivering a fatal strike.
Five minutes later, a similar scene played out all over again.
Sandro slashed into the penalty box with the ball and squared it across the face of the goal, setting up his teammate for another goal.
The teams swapped sides for the second half, but Sandro remained just as unstoppable.
Like an absolute god of war on the pitch, all he needed was a sliver of space to carve out a bloody path, terrorizing the defense with long-range strikes and threaded passes.
The match consisted of two thirty-minute halves, and before the final whistle even blew, the scoreline had reached an utterly psychotic 8-2!
While high scores were to be expected in a small-sided practice match, everyone on the pitch had received professional training. This kind of lopsided massacre was something you'd normally only see if a first-team squad was mercilessly bullying a youth academy side!
Sandro had fifteen dribbles with twelve successful take-ons, and four long-range shots with two finding the mark. He had also executed two solo runs directly into the penalty area before slotting low finishes into the net. On top of that, he had racked up four assists.
Four goals, four assists!!!
A terrifying 4+4 performance!!
"Damn it! He can't keep playing! My boys are going to suffer a mental breakdown!"
He didn't even need to yell; Sandro had already come to a stop on his own.
It wasn't that he was exhausted; it just felt like he was humoring a bunch of kids. There was zero challenge left.
He was now absolutely certain that the Template he had inherited was prime Kaka, rather than just the Kaka of this current age group as he had initially suspected.
Xiao Zhe quickly reined in his astonishment, pretending to be perfectly calm as he turned to Giampaolo. "So, Coach Marco, did we pass the trial?"
The question was directed at Giampaolo, but the sheer absurdity of it made all three men roll their eyes hard.
"What do you think?" Giampaolo shook his head and extended his hand once more, his tone more solemn than ever before. "I know I've already said it once, but I can't help but say it again. Welcome to Brescia."