Sandro officially reported for training the next day.
The moment he stepped into the dressing room, every eye turned toward him.
Captain Coletti was the first to walk over, extending a hand. "Sandro?"
"Yes," Sandro said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Welcome to Brescia," Coletti said, smiling as he patted Sandro's shoulder. "Come on, introduce yourself to the lads."
He clapped his hands to get the room's attention. "Let's welcome our newest member, the lad from Milan."
"Hello everyone, I'm Sandro Xiao, but you can just call me Sandro. I'm thrilled to be here and become a part of Brescia. I'm a forward, I'll be wearing number 11, and I hope we can have a successful season together..."
Handsome and polite, he made an easy first impression. Aside from those competing directly for his position or the natural curmudgeons who disliked everyone, the rest of the squad welcomed his arrival with enthusiastic applause.
Coletti had no intention of introducing everyone individually. After leading Sandro to his locker, he wandered off to mind his own business.
Sandro stowed his things and started changing. Suddenly, a large face leaned in close. "Hey, mate. I heard you absolutely tore apart the lads on the youth squad?"
Sandro glanced up to check the man's shirt number.
Number 22. That meant this was the midfielder, Grossi.
He smiled. "Just a friendly exchange."
"Haha, I heard all about it. Four plus four—oh, very friendly." Grossi flashed a cheeky grin. "Not just anyone can bang in four goals in a single match. I've got high hopes for you, mate. Welcome to the squad."
"Thanks."
The squad soon made their way out to the training pitch.
Giampaolo wore a stern expression. Skipping any unnecessary chatter, he immediately ordered everyone to warm up.
Matchday three of Serie B was the day after next. Giampaolo was under immense pressure, and his match preparation was meticulous.
Though he didn't exchange a single word with Sandro, his attention was fixed squarely on the new signing.
Assistant coach Amonda had also been monitoring Sandro's form, growing increasingly satisfied the longer he watched. "He doesn't look like someone fresh from the youth squad at all. He's keeping pace with every training drill, and..."
"And completing them brilliantly," Giampaolo finished. "Better than most of the lads out here."
"Looks like we won't need to draw up a custom training regimen for him," Amonda chuckled. "A few more team sessions and we can send him onto the pitch."
"A few more sessions..." Giampaolo muttered thoughtfully.
He knew, of course, that the safest option was to let Sandro train with the squad a few more times and properly gel with his teammates before playing him. He just feared he didn't have the luxury of waiting that long.
Having worked with him for so long, Amonda could tell from that look alone that the manager was plotting something. "You want to take a gamble on him?"
"Not quite yet, but I think this kid might just give us a massive surprise."
"Then we give him a few minutes to test the waters next match?"
"Let's test the waters, then." Giampaolo didn't sound entirely certain. "His playing style is already very mature, and there are clearly no issues with his technique. It all comes down to his mentality now..."
In truth, Giampaolo couldn't be blamed for his impatience. Brescia simply had too few viable forwards. They were still relying on the soon-to-be thirty-two-year-old Caracciolo to lead the line—and even as the team's top scorer, Caracciolo had only managed seven league goals last season.
With the decision made, Amonda immediately called Sandro over.
Sandro wiped the sweat from his forehead.
The intensity of first-team training was truly on another level compared to the youth squad. If it weren't for the System's help, he probably wouldn't even have the stamina to remain standing right now.
"How are you feeling?" Amonda asked. "Can you handle the pace?"
"Feeling great," Sandro smiled. "It's actually a bit easier than I imagined."
"Then get ready," Giampaolo said. "I'll put you in the matchday squad for the next fixture so you can experience the atmosphere. Of course, there's also a chance you'll play. Either way, you need to be mentally prepared to take the pitch at any moment."
Sandro's eyes lit up. "Understood, Boss."
After training ended, Sandro immediately called his parents with the news.
Neither quite believed it, but both promised they would be at the stadium to watch the match.
Xiao Zhe's first reaction mirrored Amonda's.
"This manager... is taking quite a gamble."
They naturally kept a close eye on Brescia's situation. They knew the club wasn't in great shape, but two consecutive draws hardly amounted to sheer desperation. Yet Giampaolo had rushed to put Sandro into the matchday squad anyway; it definitely felt like a gamble.
Olivia was both delighted and worried, even dropping a Chinese idiom. "Aren't they pulling up the seedlings to help them grow?"
"Not necessarily," Xiao Zhe said. "You didn't see Xiao Yang's trial match. If you had, you wouldn't bear to leave him on the bench either."
"Wasn't the trial just against the youth team?" Olivia still harbored some misgivings on that point. "What kind of benchmark is that?"
"Heh, even if you threw Kaka into a youth match, he wouldn't perform much better than that..."
Sandro's inclusion in the matchday squad also caused a stir within the team.
Brescia primarily played a 4-2-3-1 formation, meaning there was only one starting striker spot. The competition was already fierce enough. Now, with an unexpected newcomer suddenly stepping in to fight for minutes, it would be a miracle if the other forwards were in a good mood.
Time quickly advanced to September 8.
Matchday three of Serie B. Brescia hosted Novara.
Sandro stepped into the Mario Rigamonti Stadium for the first time.
The stadium was named in memory of Mario Rigamonti, a former Torino defender who perished in the Superga air disaster of May 1949. It had a modest capacity of just over 27,000 spectators.
Attendance was decent. At a glance, the seats looked to be about seventy to eighty percent full. For a standard league fixture, drawing this kind of crowd was quite impressive.
Novara had finished fifth in the league last season, exactly one spot higher than Brescia. Their current season record stood at one win and one loss, giving them exactly one more point than Brescia's two consecutive draws. It created the impression that while both teams belonged to the same tier, Novara were just a fraction stronger.
Inside the dressing room, Giampaolo reiterated his tactical instructions and delivered a quick morale-boosting speech before the players took the pitch.
Sandro took his seat on the substitutes' bench, patiently waiting for his chance.
"Brescia will continue to utilize a 4-2-3-1 formation.
Goalkeeper: 1-Arcari;
Defenders: 24-Paci, 6-Di Cesare, 15-Zambelli, 30-Camigliano;
Defensive Midfielders: 3-Coletti, 22-Grossi;
Midfielders: 4-Saba, 17-Benali, 5-Budel;
Forward: 9-Caracciolo."
"Novara fields a 4-4-2 formation.
Goalkeeper: 1-Kosicky;
Defenders: 3-Bastrini, 4-Salviato, 25-Mori, 6-Ludi;
Midfielders: 20-Lazzari, 23-Buzzegoli, 12-Farago, 7-Pesce;
Forwards: 9-Gonzalez, 27-Comi."
"The referee blows his whistle, and the match begins..."