The next day, at the Barra Funda training ground.
Carlos gathered the players and began speaking.
"From now on, our priority is stopping Corinthians's Pato."
Alexandre Pato.
Anyone who does not know the boy's name should not speak about the future of Brazilian football.
That was what Socrates, the greatest star ever produced by SC Corinthians, once said about him.
Despite his young age, Pato was already a sensational prospect who was well known throughout São Paulo.
Ho-young also knew much about him.
The young breadwinner who would one day lead AC Milan. They said Messi was Argentina's future and Pato was Brazil's.
In his youth, Pato's potential was considered comparable to Messi's.
The difference was that Messi continued an upward path, while Pato eventually declined.
Anyway, Pato is only three years older than me. I think I can handle it.
Football was a team game.
With enough preparation, he believed they could win.
Carlos continued as he explained the upcoming match.
"Pato joined Corinthians at the end of April this year and has already played fourteen matches. He scored eighteen goals. He is the strongest candidate for the league Golden Ball. But because he hasn't been with the team long, their chemistry is not perfect yet."
It was his way of telling them not to be intimidated.
"Remember, the team that wins is the better team, not the team that looks better."
Meaning, they also had more than enough chance to win.
"And we only need to be the team that wins."
It was a slightly cringe-worthy line, but none of the players reacted outwardly.
Carlos's expression was too stern for that.
"But we are not going to lock the game down and drag it to penalties. Even if we tried, we still wouldn't be able to stop Pato that way."
The final was a rare stage for youth players.
Carlos wanted to give the team meaningful experience while applying detailed tactics.
"That doesn't mean we are planning to lose. We will prepare as best we can. So lift your heads and have confidence."
"Yes!"
"In ten minutes we start position-specific training. Warm up until then."
After giving his instructions, Carlos pulled aside his assistant coach.
"It is obvious that Corinthians will use a 4-3-2-1. Any ideas on how to stop Pato?"
"The best option is a 4-1-4-1 to funnel their second line inside from the wings. But we don't have the players to do that."
"Exactly. That would be suicide."
The problem was, as expected, Pato.
Whether they could stop him or not would decide the match.
"And defensively we have another problem. Ho-young. Corinthians will definitely order heavy pressing on him."
The Corinthians coach surely felt the same way.
How to stop the troublemaker named Ho-young.
So they also needed a plan to break through the opponent's defense.
"I have an idea for that. In the next match, Ho-young will not play up front."
"You are dropping him to the second line? An attacking midfielder?"
"No. He will play as the defensive midfielder in a 4-1-1-2-1."
"What?"
It was a shocking decision.
Not only were they removing the attacking midfielder role entirely, but they were putting their main goal scorer at defensive midfield. It made no sense.
"Coach, I know Ho-young has decent tackling and interception skills, but isn't that position for a regista?"
A regista was a deep-lying playmaker who controlled the match from midfield, linking passes between attack and defense.
Meaning, this was a system completely dependent on the defensive midfielder's ability to distribute the ball.
It was a tactic tailored entirely to Ho-young.
Carlos replied.
"Pato's speed is on another level in this league. There are countless players who cannot stop him even if they know what he will do. Who in our team can keep up with him?"
"Only Douglas and Ho-young. But Douglas's defensive ability is weak."
"Exactly. That leaves only Woo."
"If it works, it will confuse the opponent, but will our ball distribution be stable? If not, we will have to give up possession."
"Did you not see his passing in the last playoff match? He has talent."
"I saw. But can he distribute the ball reliably under heavy pressure?"
"That is why we trained him intensively. His fundamentals."
"Hmm..."
Maybe it was possible.
If Ho-young could handle that enormous responsibility.
"I am playing defensive midfielder?!"
As position training was about to begin, Carlos's announcement left Ho-young frozen.
"You can do it. Don't be afraid."
"Um... yes."
He trusted that Carlos had a plan.
And he also agreed that this match needed a tactical surprise.
"Follow me."
"Training?"
"You are exempt."
"Exempt?"
"Special training."
Ho-young was not alone.
Six players were grouped for special training, including Casemiro, who would play centre-back, and Douglas, who would be the lone striker.
Carlos spoke to Ho-young.
"When Casemiro gives you the ball, you have to connect it forward to Douglas. But the distance will be long."
"Yes."
"So what should you do?"
"Either connect short passes to the wide midfielders and build up gradually, or have the wingers drop deep to receive."
Unless he had passing mastery like Xavi or Alonso, that was the only option.
"Correct. So from now on, we will practice ball distribution patterns."
Training continued for days.
Carlos ordered them to practice each pattern until the link-up became natural.
They reduced basic drills significantly to focus entirely on distribution.
Because Ho-young's role as the linker was that important.
Thanks to that, his talent improved rapidly.
[Precise Ball Distribution (C+) ↑]
The day his talent grew was also the day Carlos finally nodded with satisfaction.
It was also the day they started full training on how to stop Pato and how to develop their own attacking play.
After that, full team sessions began, and the remaining three days were filled with intense practice.
They could have complained, but instead, every player stayed focused.
They wanted to end the season in style.
And today, they came to lift the Campeonato Paulista championship trophy.
"We are the team that wins today."
Inside Estádio do Pacaembu, Carlos spoke in the São Paulo FC locker room.
He had said the same line before, but today it felt heavier, igniting their desire to win.
Ho-young placed his hand in the team huddle, recalling the past week of training.
"The king's majesty, on the field!"
Goosebumps rose on his arm.
It wasn't embarrassment.
They always shouted this chant before a match, but it had never felt this serious.
And Corinthians was one of their biggest rivals.
The atmosphere was nothing like a normal match.
Before leaving the locker room, Carlos added one last message.
"The pitch is where you show what you have trained. Show everything. That is all you need to do."
"Yes."
His heart felt like it was going to explode.
Ho-young calmed his nerves as he walked onto the field.
He shook hands with the opposing players, checking each one's abilities.
Which ones he needed to watch out for.
Which ones he might be able to devour.
Then.
His eyes froze.
A boy around 160 cm with thick eyebrows.
[Alexandre Pato]
[Possessed Talents: Football Genius (A-), Legs Faster than a Lamborghini (A+)
Delicate Ball Touch (B), Flashy Individual Skills (B-), Composed Finishing Ability (C+3)]
(You may acquire one talent by meeting the required conditions.)
(Condition 1: Win the Campeonato Paulista Championship final.)
(Condition 2: Be selected as the Campeonato Paulista São Paulo state Golden Ball.)
(Condition 3: Record two attacking points.)
The 1989-born boy who would later be called the Little Pelé.
They finally met.
A genius.
Not a football prodigy, but a football genius. His heart, which he had forced to stay calm, began pounding again.
What would happen if he could devour that talent?
Could he become a genius too?
It was truly a clash between a talent-filled genius and a demon who devoured talent.
With both fear and excitement, Ho-young stepped onto the field.
Then it happened.
"...?"
Corinthians players suddenly stiffened.
The atmosphere shifted sharply.
Their manager shot up from the bench with a grim expression.
"What is that?"
He was stunned by Ho-young.
The boy who should have been up front was standing as a defensive midfielder.
"Why is he there?"
"I... I don't know either."
If the head coach didn't know, the assistant surely couldn't.
There was no way they could expect Carlos's surprise attack.
(To be continued.)