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Back in Madrid, Atlético reset their mindset. The Champions League disappointment was behind them. Only the league remained.
The twenty-eighth round of La Liga arrived.
André channelled every ounce of his frustration into Athletic Bilbao. Starting the match, he completed a hat-trick before halftime, sending Atlético into the break with a 3-0 lead.
In the second half, he turned provider—assisting Griezmann in the sixty-fourth minute for the fourth goal. Eight minutes later, Simeone withdrew him to a standing ovation.
Near full-time, Costa—André's replacement—added a fifth.
Final score: Atlético Madrid 5-0 Athletic Bilbao.
A statement performance. But the league table remained unchanged—Barcelona and Real Madrid had both won their fixtures too.
The following day, André flew from Madrid to Portugal.
The European Championship qualifiers were about to begin. Portugal's Group B campaign would start with two home matches: Ukraine first, then Serbia three days later.
At Lisbon airport, a familiar figure waited at arrivals.
"How are you feeling? Still upset about the elimination?"
Cristiano's opening words made André roll his eyes.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly annoying?"
"I came all the way to pick you up, and this is the thanks I get? I'm trying to comfort you."
"I didn't ask you to come. You just wanted an excuse to skip training."
"You little—"
"Easy now." André held up his hands, grinning. "There are cameras everywhere. If I accidentally knock you down, you'll look bad. Santos will never let you hear the end of it."
Cristiano's expression soured at the mention of his son. "Don't get me started on that boy. After you beat us in the first leg, he told me his Uncle André would definitely get revenge. Hasn't spoken to me properly in days." He shook his head in disbelief. "Mãe being biased toward you, I understand—you're younger. But my own son? That I can't explain."
He slung an arm around André's shoulder as they walked.
"So you came to pick me up but won't carry my bags?" André smirked. "Santos admires me because I'm more handsome than you. Obviously."
"He's attracted to your shamelessness, more like." Cristiano paused. "Speaking of which—you're seventeen now. Found a girlfriend yet? Want Georgina to set you up?"
Are you really this bored?
"I'm only seventeen. What's the rush?"
"Who's rushing? Have you forgotten asking me for advice on how to chat up girls back in school? You weren't worried about age then."
Can you stop digging up ancient history?
André was beginning to suspect Cristiano had come purely to wind him up.
"Alright, alright." Cristiano's tone shifted, suddenly serious. "Listen—Fernando probably won't start you for these two matches. You'll come off the bench. Your adaptation time is too short for anything else. Be mentally prepared."
The conversational whiplash with this man...
"I figured as much."
Cristiano drove them to the Portugal national team training base in Lisbon.
The Seleção's history was rich but complicated. Seven World Cup appearances, stretching back to 1966—the tournament that had defined Portuguese football's greatest legend, Eusébio. In that campaign, Portugal had won all three group matches, including a victory over Pelé's Brazil, before reaching the semi-finals and ultimately finishing third. Eusébio claimed the Golden Boot with nine goals.
Then came twenty years of failure to qualify.
The 1986 World Cup brought elimination at the group stage. The famed Golden Generation—winners of back-to-back World Youth Championships—missed three consecutive World Cups entirely.
The Cristiano era brought mixed fortunes. Group-stage exits in 2002 and 2014. A semi-final run in 2006. A Round of 16 departure in 2010.
But in 2016, everything changed.
Portugal defeated France on home soil to lift the European Championship trophy—the first major honour in the nation's football history.
Now, Cristiano's legacy rivalled Eusébio's. But time was running out. The upcoming Euros would almost certainly be his final tournament. The Cristiano era was entering its twilight.
Fernando Santos's plans for André matched Cristiano's prediction exactly.
The seventeen-year-old was assigned to the substitute squad—but it was clear Santos held him in high regard. Just as Hierro had done at Oviedo, Santos frequently stopped training sessions to explain tactical concepts directly to André.
The learning continued.
A week after joining camp, Portugal's first qualifier arrived.
The venue: Estádio da Luz, Lisbon. The opponents: Ukraine.
Ukraine were relative newcomers to European football's elite, having only existed since the Soviet Union's collapse in 1991. Before 2006, they had never appeared at a major tournament. That year, led by their talismanic striker Andriy Shevchenko, they reached the World Cup quarter-finals—announcing themselves on the global stage.
Now Shevchenko sat in the opposing dugout as head coach, tasked with guiding the next generation.
The stage was set for André's international debut.