Watching that figure streak across the pitch with those practically identical movements, Inzaghi found it hard not to think of the man who had worn Milan's number 22 all those years ago.
Honestly, plenty of kids had tried to imitate Kaka over the years.
From São Paulo to the San Siro, from street pitches to professional academies, who hadn't gone through a wannabe phase of mindlessly knocking the ball past a defender and pointing both fingers at the sky?
But as one of the people who knew Kaka best, Inzaghi could easily tell that those kids were only mimicking the surface details. When they ran, they looked like lame ostriches or drunk flamingos.
Kaka's Meteor Stride wasn't just about taking massive strides, nor was it merely about moving with the speed of a falling star. Its true essence lay in his absolute mastery of rhythm: the timing of his directional changes, his path selection, and his sharp anticipation of an opponent's shifting weight. That was the hardest aspect of his game to replicate, and the exact reason world football had only seen a single Kaka after all these years.
Yet at this very moment, Inzaghi truly felt like he was watching Kaka all over again. He was witnessing that very same meteor streak through the atmosphere, tearing straight across the pitch...
At Sandro's feet, the ball acted like an obedient puppy. It seemed to bounce playfully, but in reality, it stayed perfectly within reach with every single stride.
Whenever his long legs opened up into a sprint, the entire pitch seemed to shrink, and everyone around him appeared to move in slow motion.
Mbaye chased after him with everything he had, but could only eat his dust.
Sandro glanced over his shoulder, but he didn't see anyone there.
Well, it was just Mbaye, not Mbappé...
Little did he know, that simple glance was absolutely lethal. It sent the Milan fans in the Curva Nord into fits of roaring laughter and shattered Mbaye's ego completely.
Gritting his teeth, the defender launched into a sliding tackle. But it was as if Sandro had eyes in the back of his head—he suddenly slammed on the brakes and changed direction.
Mbaye tried to hit the brakes too, but his momentum carried him forward. He skidded across the turf on his knees, looking exactly like a poor bastard who had just fumbled a marriage proposal.
"Hahaha!"
The Milan fans in the stands roared with laughter before cheering wildly for Sandro.
"Go! Keep going! Don't stop!"
"Damn! He's back! Kaka is back! Kaka is really back!"
"How the hell is he so fast?!"
Sandro continued to drive the ball forward.
Every touch knocked the ball several meters ahead, his legs churning like pistons to catch up.
The Inter Milan defensive line instantly tangled into a chaotic mess.
"Stop him!" the Inter goalkeeper screamed, his voice cracking from the strain.
Ever since Sandro's near-miss long shot earlier, the goalkeeper had been eyeing him like a ticking time bomb.
By now, Sandro had already charged into the penalty area.
Facing the oncoming defender, he relied on just two moves: accelerate and change direction.
His movements looked raw and practically devoid of technical flair, yet they carried a uniquely domineering rhythm all their own!
After leaving Mbaye in the dust, he breezed past two more defenders in exactly the same way, drawing ever closer to the goal.
The goalkeeper decisively rushed off his line to meet him.
Fans on both sides were already on their feet, their eyes locked on the rapid collision course between the two players.
Sandro kept his head up, his gaze fixed forward without a single glance down at the ball. But the split second a shooting angle opened up, he opened his body and calmly slotted the ball with the inside of his right foot.
At some point, Inzaghi had bent forward at the waist. His unblinking eyes were glued to Sandro's feet as he muttered frantically under his breath.
"Hold on, don't shoot yet... alright, now's the time... beautiful!"
The Ninth Master leaped into the air in excitement just as the ball slipped past the goalkeeper's outstretched foot. It rolled into the left corner of the goal and slammed into the netting with a crisp swish.
The white netting rippled violently, like a skirt caught in a strong gust of wind.
In the Curva Nord, the Rossoneri reacted as if a switch had been flipped, leaping to their feet in sheer ecstasy.
"GOOOOOOOOL!
"Sandro Xiao!
"A seventeen-year-old kid!
"He just scored a Kaka-esque goal!
"We all knew that after four years and three months away, we would finally get to witness this one-of-a-kind performance once again. Kaka has returned to us! He's returned to the San Siro! Once more, we'll see him tear apart defenses and breach the opponent's net in his own signature way!
"But nobody could have predicted that before Kaka even scored his return goal, a young kid from the Milan youth squad would score in the most 'Kaka' way possible during the youth Milan Derby!"
Bursting with adrenaline, Sandro sprinted toward the corner flag and thrust both index fingers toward the sky.
He didn't believe in God; he only believed in the System. This gesture had nothing to do with religious faith—he was simply thanking fate for the blessing it had bestowed upon him.
His teammates rushed over, intending to celebrate. But upon seeing his back, practically bathed in a sacred light, they all instinctively stopped in their tracks. They simply stood behind him, watching in quiet awe.
They had only pulled one goal back. Logically, he shouldn't have been celebrating quite so wildly. Yet, in a rare display of empathy, the fans completely understood.
He was a seventeen-year-old kid who had just scored an incredible goal in a massive match. Anyone else in his shoes would have been even more ecstatic...
Up in the stands, Xiao Zhe and Olivia wrapped their arms around each other, tears welling in their eyes.
"My son..."
Xiao Zhe started out murmuring to himself, but his voice grew louder and louder until he was screaming like a madman to everyone around him.
"That's my fucking son! My son!"
Olivia couldn't hold back her tears either, covering her face as she wept.
Less than two weeks ago, their family had been agonizing over whether Sandro would ever be able to walk properly again. Seeing that high-spirited, endlessly energetic figure racing across the pitch now made it all feel like an impossible dream.
The surrounding crowd turned to look at them.
The moment they got a clear look at Xiao Zhe's face, nobody doubted his claim for a second.
Their facial features were undeniable proof. This was absolutely the biological father; there was zero need to waste money on a paternity test...
Xiao Zhe was a classically handsome Asian man. He had sharp, striking features, thick eyebrows, and large eyes. With his tall, elegant frame and an aura that was equal parts brooding artist and refined rogue, he looked like a walking John Lone. If he hadn't been so good-looking, there was no way he could have won over a blonde, blue-eyed beauty like Olivia.
Sandro had inherited all of his father's best features, seamlessly blending them with the sculpted bone structure from his mother's side. His aura carried a tough edge that his father lacked, creating a perfect fusion of Eastern and Western aesthetics. After all, if he hadn't been that good-looking, the System never would have let him awaken Kaka's Template.
The surrounding fans offered a round of applause, happily congratulating the couple on raising such a talented son.
Down on the sidelines, the corners of Inzaghi's mouth twitched upward before spreading across his face into a brilliant smile. "Call Allegri! Right now! Immediately!"
"Call him? And say what?"
"Ask him if he wants another Kaka." By now, Inzaghi had forgotten the score entirely. He had even forgotten the derby. His eyes were locked solely on Sandro. "A young Kaka!"
The assistant coach nearly choked on his own spit. "Boss, he's only played well for ten minutes..."
"Ten minutes?" The Ninth Master raised an eyebrow, forcing himself to cool down. "Alright, ten minutes. Let's watch him a little longer. Let's wait. Go on, kid, prove it to me. Prove that you can go for more than ten minutes..."
The assistant coach gave him a very strange look.
That sounded incredibly easy to misinterpret, Boss...