Led by Coletti, the players headed over to the stands to thank the fans for their support.
This Brescia squad lacked any real star power. A few veterans drew the most cheers, but there was no true idol to speak of. Sandro's sudden rise perfectly filled that void.
Limitless potential, brilliant skills, a sunny disposition, sharp looks, and a solo performance that single-handedly saved the team—he checked every box for a superstar idol.
The veterans soon realized with some shock that among the chants echoing from the stands, the shouts of "Xiao! Xiao!" were by far the loudest.
A wave of mixed feelings washed over the squad.
How the fuck long had he even been here, and he was already the crowd favorite?
Sandro scanned the crowd for a good while but couldn't spot his parents. Giving up the search, he focused on flirting with a few gorgeous fans in the front row, only pulling away once he had them thoroughly swooning.
Over in the media zone, reporters from two small local Brescia outlets were conducting interviews. Captain Coletti and Caracciolo, fresh off scoring a brace today, were speaking animatedly to the cameras.
"Yes, we finally secured our first win of the season. It's a natural result because we prepared thoroughly for the match and our teamwork was excellent.
"Sandro? He was certainly an important factor, but the main reason was the coach's tactics, as well as the players' confidence and...
"Why didn't Sandro start? He's only seventeen, and this was his first time stepping onto a professional pitch! Coming on as a substitute is perfectly normal...
"Why did Sandro leave Milan? I imagine it's because they already have Balotelli..."
On the other side, Caracciolo was riding high. After managing only seven goals across thirty-nine matches last season, he already had two goals to his name in just three games this year.
He suddenly felt that becoming the league's top scorer might not be so difficult after all. He was just preparing to unveil his grand ambitions to the media and walk them through every little detail of his two goals, but he unexpectedly ran into the exact same awkward situation as Coletti.
That damn reporter kept hitting him with "Sandro's assist" this and "Sandro's goal" that. Thoroughly annoyed, he simply marched over, grabbed Sandro for her, dropped a curt, "Ask him yourself," and spun around to disappear down the tunnel.
"Sandro, hello! I'm Elisa, a reporter for the Brescia Daily." Elisa's eyes were practically glowing. "Welcome to Brescia! How are you liking it here so far?"
"Thank you, it's an honor to be here," Sandro said with a smile. "I feel great about it. The coach places a lot of trust in me, and my teammates are all incredibly talented and have such a lovely way with words. I really like it here."
"Before the match, did you ever imagine you'd score today?"
"No," Sandro said, shaking his head with mock humility. "I didn't even think Marco would put me on the pitch, but thank God, he gave me the chance."
"And you repaid his trust, didn't you?" Elisa winked at him from off-camera. "It was a spectacular goal. I think it'll go down as the best goal of this round in Serie B—"
Before she could even finish her sentence, the reporter from the other outlet ditched Coletti and shoved his microphone right into Sandro's face. "Sandro, hello! This is the Voice of Brescia Football. Can you answer a few questions? Why were you dumped by Milan? Was it because of a falling out with Inzaghi, or did Milan simply not recognize your abilities?"
Sandro frowned slightly. "Excuse me, what did you ask?"
"I asked if you had a falling out with Inzaghi, or if he just failed to recognize your abilities. Why did he—"
"The question before that. I didn't catch it."
"Oh, why were you abandoned by Milan?"
"The one before that."
"The one before that? There wasn't—oh," the reporter said uncertainly. "Can you answer a few questions?"
"No. Thank you."
Over a decade from now, in a world thoroughly saturated by the internet's information explosion, this kind of exchange wouldn't even elicit a chuckle. But right here and now, facing foreigners who hadn't yet been bombarded by Chinese internet jokes, the effect was immediate.
Elisa giggled outright, and even the cameraman for the Voice of Brescia Football let out a snort, completely ignoring the fact that his own damn reporter's face had turned the color of pig liver.
"Why did you come to Italy to play football? Don't you know the Italian league doesn't welcome Korean players?"
Korean?
Fuck! What a filthy insult!
Sandro leaned close to the camera and pointed at his own face. "Not a single millimeter of this has gone under the knife, thank you."
Elisa actually laughed at her peer's sheer stupidity. She had only done some last-minute research herself, but there was no way she would ever make a mistake that moronic.
Recalling the news she had just read, she quietly held her microphone out again. "Sandro, from what I understand, you recently suffered a severe injury. Your attending doctor even believed you'd never be able to walk normally again. Yet miraculously, here you are, putting on the best performance of anyone on the pitch. Could you share the details of that story with us? Did your departure from Milan have something to do with it?"
This girl certainly knew how to chase a headline.
Nobody cared about Brescia, but dragging Milan into the mix changed everything.
A teenage prodigy, shown the door by the titans of Milan because of a lingering injury, only to find his rebirth in the small city of Brescia... It certainly had a dramatic flair to it, didn't it?
"Yes. I suffered a very serious injury during training. I honestly thought I was going to have to say goodbye to football forever. But Dr. Michel never gave up on me. He kept encouraging me to stay positive and devised a flawless treatment plan... I owe Michel my thanks. He is truly a great man and an outstanding doctor.
"As for why I left Milan for Brescia... it's because this place is much better suited for my growth. I love the football here, and I believe I can find success here. It's that simple."
"Then I wish you the best, and I hope you achieve brilliant things here..."
Concluding the interview, Sandro headed back into the dressing room.
His teammates took the initiative to greet him one after another. Even the ones who had given him the cold shoulder at first were now exceptionally enthusiastic—everyone except Oduamadi.
Giampaolo had been willing to scrap his standard single-striker formation just to put Sandro on the pitch. That blatant favoritism was written all over the coach's face!
If Sandro had gone out there and made a complete mess of things, it would have been one thing. But instead, the guy stepped onto the pitch and immediately stole the show!
If he were the head coach, he would have put Sandro on a pedestal too.
Now, his only saving grace was the fact that Sandro was merely on loan and would be gone in a year. Otherwise, his own career at Brescia would have likely ended today...
After the match, the team hit the bar to celebrate. As for Sandro, since he was under eighteen and couldn't drink, he had no choice but to head back to the dorms alone.
His parents were already waiting for him.
The two of them circled him, looking him up and down as if they just couldn't get enough, practically marveling at their own brilliant genetics.
Sandro didn't feel the slightest bit shy. He just stood there striking poses, letting them admire him to their hearts' content.
In my last life, I failed to become your pride. This time, I hope I can make both of you proud...