"Petagna takes the shot... and it's in! Sandro found the only seam in the Inter Milan defense and delivered a piercing through ball!
"Petagna doesn't waste the brilliant pass, easily slotting the ball into the net.
"2–2!
"2–2!
"In the 85th minute, AC Milan has leveled the score!
"And all of this happened after Sandro came onto the pitch!
"One goal, one assist! Milan's number 11 has put in a savior-like performance to help his team draw level!"
Petagna ran into the back of the net, scooped up the ball, and sprinted toward Sandro.
The two shared a hard high-five before jogging back to their own half together.
Petagna was the one who had scored, but Inzaghi's gaze was locked firmly on Sandro.
Had he been using the kid wrong all along? Was his best position actually attacking midfielder?
But that didn't make sense either. With speed, dribbling, and passing like that, he shouldn't have languished in obscurity even if he was playing out of position.
His assistant coach suddenly spoke up, looking worried. "Do you think... he might have taken something he shouldn't have?"
Inzaghi let out an exasperated laugh. "You're saying he's doping? If there's a stimulant with this kind of effect, name it. I'll be the first in line to buy it."
The assistant offered a sheepish smile. "But this improvement is just ridiculous."
"We'll know once we check what he did over the holidays," Inzaghi said. "Maybe while everyone else was on vacation, he was doing some special training."
The assistant quietly rolled his eyes.
What kind of special training yields results like this? Name it, and I'll send my son there too...
Ultimately, they were never going to learn the answer. Even Xiao Zhe and Olivia, amidst their pleasant surprise, could only chalk the transformation up to the unexplainable.
Up in the stands, the few scouts who had initially played it cool could no longer sit still. They rose one by one, scrambling to report back to their managers.
In truth, many of them represented mid-to-lower-table teams in Serie B or even Serie C. With tight club finances, they had no choice but to go bargain hunting in the youth leagues. Who could have guessed they would strike such massive gold?
One guy in a suit was so excited his tie had gone crooked. Whether because the stadium was too loud or because he was just that thrilled, he practically roared into his phone: "What? Budget? You still care about the budget right now? Here's a suggestion—sell the water cooler in the office to scrape the money together! Trust me, he's worth it!"
Not far away, another man was staring right at him while shouting into his own phone: "Yes, I see Marino. He's on the phone too... Who's Marino? My counterpart, the scout for Bari! So we need to move fast..."
The match resumed.
Inter Milan clearly fell into a panic.
They were just young players, after all. When the game was going their way, they acted like fierce wolves, cocky and unstoppable. But the moment things went south, they fell into disarray.
Mbaye had already been running for most of the match, and facing a fresh Sandro had utterly tormented him. Right now, he was resting his hands on his knees and panting heavily, looking like a husky that had just finished a marathon.
Sandro, however, only grew more pumped as he played.
He felt as if his body held an inexhaustible supply of energy. The ball grew increasingly obedient at his feet, the goal seemed a few inches wider to his eyes, and his teammates' positions and running paths were imprinted in his mind like a printout...
Regular time was drawing to a close. Though Inter Milan was unwilling to let their guaranteed three points turn into just one, facing an AC Milan team that had already found its momentum, they had no choice but to sit back and play on the counter.
In the 86th minute, an AC Milan defensive midfielder sent a long pass forward. The ball seemed to have eyes as it found Sandro.
The moment Sandro trapped the ball, three Inter youth players immediately swarmed him.
He never dreamed he would one day receive this kind of treatment.
"Sandro drops deep! Facing a three-man pincer, he drives forward!
"He's past one!
"And another... A beautiful pass!
"AC Milan has another chance!"
Kaka's style of breaking through required space and wasn't well-suited for a set defense. So, after beating the first defender, Sandro threaded the ball straight through the gap between the other two.
The ball once again entered the penalty area, but unfortunately, his teammate fired it straight into an opposing defender's legs.
The ball was cleared out of the box, and Inter Milan launched a sharp, rapid counterattack.
The ball was quickly advanced to the left side of AC Milan's penalty area, but the cross lacked proper weight and flew directly into the goalkeeper's arms.
The match soon reached the 89th minute. Including stoppage time, there were only about five or six minutes left to play.
AC Milan was still dictating the play, and their attacks were growing increasingly urgent.
Sandro had become the primary target of the defense, leaving him almost completely boxed out. He had no choice but to retreat from the comfortable center and shift out wide to the flank, where he finally managed to receive a long ball over the top from his own full-back.
The ball dropped, and Sandro brought it down cleanly.
The opponent's defensive midfielder, Inter's number 6, closed in immediately.
With his back to the touchline and facing infield, Sandro nudged the ball forward, shaping up for a long pass.
The charging number 6 involuntarily slowed his pace, sticking a foot out to intercept. However, right as Sandro's right foot touched the ball, he abruptly chopped it toward the byline and exploded past the defender.
Cursing under his breath, the number 6 gave chase relentlessly, while Inter's full-back stepped up for a frontal challenge.
Sandro changed direction again. Taking long strides, he accelerated madly, smoothly cutting inside before continuing his dribble straight down the middle.
"Sandro shifts to the flank—a fake pass, and he takes it past him!"
"...He's absolutely flying! He's past him again!"
"Sandro beats two men and is back in the center, still accelerating!"
After yet another long-distance run past three players, Sandro approached the penalty area.
The captain of the Inter Milan youth team, Crisetig, pressed forward to challenge him.
He had already anticipated Sandro's next move and taken preemptive measures.
It was just a change of direction... right?
The thought had barely crossed his mind before Sandro brushed right past him.
Looking as if he had seen a ghost, Crisetig turned and stared at Sandro's retreating back, momentarily forgetting to even give chase.
His reaction had been fast enough. The moment Sandro drew near, he had stretched out his foot to intercept, but he was still half a step too slow!
Having shaken off Crisetig, Sandro glanced at the goal. He decelerated slightly, letting the ball roll forward about two meters before exploding forward once more.
The fans in the stadium had long since stood up in nervous anticipation.
"Sandro with the run-up... he shoots!"
With a resounding thud, the ball took flight.
Inside the penalty area, the Inter Milan defenders threw their feet and heads in the way, desperately trying to block the shot. Yet the ball seemed equipped with auto-navigation, precisely bypassing every obstacle one by one before hurtling toward the right side of the goal.
The goalkeeper took two quick adjustment steps and launched himself into a diving leap.
He stretched his arm to the absolute limit, fingers tensing forcefully as he reached to block the ball, but in the end, he grasped nothing but thin air...