Under the bewildered stares of the Novara fans and the ecstatic gazes of the Brescia supporters, the ball rolled dead center into the net.
"GOAL!!!!!! Sandro comes off the bench to deliver a sharp through ball, and Caracciolo pokes it into the net!!!"
"Sandro changed the dynamic of the match with his very first touch. First, a clever dummy to fool Lazzari, then a nutmeg to get past Buzzegoli, and finally a textbook through ball from outside the penalty area to assist Caracciolo's goal."
Giampaolo took a hard look at Sandro, as if confirming this wasn't a hallucination, before throwing his arms up and cheering loudly.
His internal monologue rapidly swung from self-doubt to self-affirmation.
One second ago: Was I crazy to send him on at a time like this?
The next second: I was still too conservative. Why did I wait so long to bring him on?
In the stands, Xiao Zhe and Olivia were already on their feet.
Unlike the jumping, dancing crowd around them, they simply wore smiles on their lips, quietly watching that figure on the pitch who seemed to practically glow.
Olivia originally had her fingers intertwined in a prayer gesture, but then, perhaps remembering something, she pressed her palms flat together, muttering under her breath...
It wasn't that she changed her faith too casually; she had simply grasped the essence of Chinese metaphysics: worship whoever gets results!
Macado continued to neurotically mutter things like, "I knew you could do it," and, "It's not over yet, keep it up," his face brimming with a delighted smile.
Caracciolo was the one who scored, but the broadcast camera locked onto Sandro for a long time, feeding viewers extreme close-ups.
Sandro's looks could withstand the scrutiny. Even with the lens right in his face, he had no bad angles. Coupled with the stellar impression left by his performance, more than a few hearts likely skipped a beat in that moment.
No matter the field, good looks were a bonus. Often, a problem you couldn't solve with all your might could be handled by a handsome face just acting cute or striking a pose.
This match did not attract much attention back in China.
These days, even Serie A was in decline, let alone Serie B.
But there were still quite a few hardcore fans watching the scene unfold via online streams.
"Damn, these looks... he's subtly threatening my status as the local Yanzu."
"The Fujian branch of Louis Koo respectfully disagrees!"
"That goal had shades of Kaka..."
"Is my draw-win bet back from the dead?"
"This guy didn't run track and field before, did he?"
"Fuck, are you guys focusing on the wrong thing? Is this motherfucker from China or not?"
"The hell he is! I just saw the news a few days ago. He was loaned out from the Milan youth academy. He's mixed-race, a banana—what's he got to do with us?"
"So half-Chinese blood doesn't count as blood anymore, right?"
"I don't care about bloodlines, I only look at nationality!"
"Lol, lead the national team to win the World Cup?"
"You still have to have dreams. What if... a hundred million to one... even if it's a billion to one chance, what if it actually happens?"
"You're arguing too early. Let's see him get into the Italian national team first."
"Heh, you say that as if he could get into the Chinese national team just by having a Chinese passport..."
Caracciolo ran into the goal, picked the ball out, and jogged over to Sandro. The two shared a hard high-five.
"Beautifully done!" Caracciolo shouted. "I didn't expect that pass to make it through!"
"If we're being honest..." Sandro replied. "I didn't expect you to catch up to the ball, either."
"Hahaha, I almost couldn't. I was half-tempted to give up on the shot and just try to draw a penalty," Caracciolo admitted frankly, lowering his voice. "But I didn't expect him to spread his legs so wide—just enough room for the ball to slip through."
"Well, with luck like that, you deserved to score."
"Keep it up, Xiǎo!" Caracciolo tossed the ball to the opposing forward. "Keep this up, and the good times are about to roll."
"I think so too," Sandro said. "Also, it's Xiāo, first tone, not Xiǎo, thank you."
"Alright, Xiào, I'll remember it."
"You know what, just keep calling me Xiǎo..."
One side wanted to press their momentum, while the other was unwilling to watch their secured three points turn into one. Neither side had any intention of delaying, and play quickly resumed.
The Novara players clearly intensified their pressing.
Captain Lazzari had a dark expression on his face. He kept clapping his hands to encourage his teammates. "Look alive! Don't let a rookie ruin our match!"
As he spoke, he also shot a fierce glare in Sandro's direction.
Listening to those hostile shouts and meeting that defiant gaze, the corners of Sandro's mouth curled up slightly.
'I don't want you guys ruining my debut either.'
Novara launched the first attack.
Midfielder Pesce found Gonzalez with a long pass. The latter fired a volley from the edge of the penalty area. Fortunately, Arcari reacted swiftly, diving to tip the ball over the crossbar.
"Watch your marks!"
Captain Coletti shouted loudly, looking completely exasperated, but all he got in return were eye rolls from his teammates.
He was supposed to be the first barrier in the team's defensive line. If he had just been a bit more capable, that ball never would have made it through.
The corner kick swung into the box. Di Cesare leaped high and cleared it with a header. The ball fell to Grossi's feet. Sandro immediately sprang into action, charging up the left flank like an arrow from a bow.
Grossi was quick-eyed and quick-footed, immediately threading a diagonal through ball into Sandro's path.
"Sandro is on the move again!" the commentator's voice suddenly spiked. "Lazzari once again... he's past him?!"
There was no flashy footwork. The moment Lazzari stepped up, Sandro simply knocked the ball far ahead and blew past him!
Lazzari was completely dumbfounded, but instinct took over and he immediately turned to pursue. The longer he chased, however, the more despairing he felt.
Buzzegoli came over cursing to cover for his captain. Sandro immediately cut inside, executing a sharp change of direction to shake him off in an instant.
A wave of exclamations swept through the stands.
If the first time was due to Novara not taking him seriously enough and being caught off guard, what could they say about this?
Caracciolo quickly pulled wide to create space, but Mandorlini and Lasik were still sluggishly jogging up from behind; they definitely wouldn't make it in time for this attack.
Novara's center-back Salviato stepped out of the penalty area to engage him. Sandro threw a fake shot, quickly selling the dummy and skipping past.
Giampaolo clenched his fists tightly. "Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"
As if hearing his coach's inner voice, Sandro immediately wound up and unleashed a blistering strike.
Kosicky threw himself into a dive, stretching his right arm out, his palm spectacularly parrying the shot.
With a loud smack, the ball deflected over the crossbar and out of play.
A chorus of disappointed sighs echoed throughout the stadium.
"What a pity!! Sandro started his run from the left wing, bypassed three players in a row, and unleashed an incredibly high-quality long shot. Unfortunately, Kosicky was fully concentrated and deflected the ball with one hand. Brescia wins a corner..."
Although it didn't go in, the fans still offered Sandro a round of enthusiastic applause.
The broadcast director queued up three consecutive replays of the attack. From Sandro's breakthrough to his shot, the entire sequence was seamlessly executed from start to finish without a single hitch.
The blazing speed, the elegant movements, the upright posture, and the surging vitality radiating right through the screen made it an absolute feast for the eyes.
It had to be said, although the result was lacking, the entertainment value of this attack was absolutely maxed out.
"Isn't this just the spitting image of Kaka?"
"Congratulations to Kaka for winning second place in the Kaka impersonation contest."
"This goalkeeper is a beast too, managing to pull off a save like that."
"Fuck, so close!"
"A 100% take-on success rate?"
Let alone the Novara players, even his Brescia teammates were stunned.
What normal seventeen-year-old plays football like this?
Was Milan so flush with talent that they'd just loan out anyone??