"That's it! Full time!"
"Manchester United have done it! A 3–0 win in Amsterdam, and they move on to the Europa League Round of 16!"
"But make no mistake—the biggest takeaway from tonight isn't the result. It's the rise of a new star. A diamond. A midfield general."
Tony Longstaff, longtime commentator for MUTV, was nearly breathless.
He'd covered United for nearly a decade.
He'd seen young talent come through the system—Rashford, Januzaj, even Pogba.
But tonight felt different.
"Alessandro," he said into the mic, "this lad… he's cut from a different cloth."
---
The broadcast focused in.
A slow close-up.
Alessandro's back turned to the camera. His jersey soaked with sweat. The bold white #39, with ALESSANDRO printed above it, filling the screen.
The message was clear.
This was his night.
His arrival.
---
"This is the magic of football," Longstaff said, voice thick with emotion. "One game. One chance. One name that'll now echo across England."
He chuckled softly.
"I'll be honest—I didn't even have much data on him when the lineups came in. Seventeen years old, no senior appearances, barely any media coverage. And now?"
He laughed again.
"Now we'll be watching him for years."
---
Back in Asia, the Chinese broadcast was more direct.
"What a debut!" Zhang Jun shouted. "Alessandro starts, scores two, assists one, and completely takes over the midfield. Under his leadership, Manchester United just dominated Ajax at home!"
Zhang Lu nodded. "This is it. This is the moment he breaks through. He's earned his place in United's first team."
"And next…" Zhang Jun added, "we wait to see him in the Premier League."
---
Fans were already buzzing.
> "When's his league debut?"
> "He has to get minutes against someone soon…"
> "Surely not against Liverpool, though? Right?"
---
The conversation shifted to the Double Red Derby.
Manchester United vs. Liverpool.
The biggest domestic clash in England. Intensity. Rivalry. Pressure.
"Too early for him to start that," one fan wrote.
"He should get eased in—maybe against a mid-table side."
Logical takes.
Because even the best managers think twice before throwing a teenager into England's national derby.
But then again… Alessandro had just bossed Ajax off their own pitch.
---
In the away stands at the Cruyff Arena, United's traveling fans were still chanting.
They weren't singing about Rooney.
Not even Welbeck or Hernández.
They were chanting his name.
"Alessandro!"
The way they said it blurred into "Leo"—a smoother, more familiar chant.
And it stuck.
Just like that, he had a nickname the fans could latch onto.
---
Alessandro applauded with his teammates, saluting the away end.
Because to him, it was simple.
Without the fans, there is no football.
And he meant it.
---
Then came the real test.
The media.
The moment he finished with the fans, Alessandro was surrounded.
Cameras. Mics. Journalists from every direction.
Domestic reporters. British press. International correspondents.
All pushing toward the same thing.
The kid in the No. 39 shirt.
He stood in front of the backdrop, the sponsor logos behind him forming a wall of color.
His hair was drenched, sweat still dripping from his brow.
But there was no nervous energy.
Just focus. Calm. Clarity.
---
"Did you expect to start tonight?"
"Of course," Alessandro said, matter-of-fact. "We've been working on the tactical shape all week. The manager gave me confidence. So I prepared like I was starting."
---
"How did it feel to make your debut?"
"Ajax are a good side," he said. "They pressed hard. But for me, it's just football. Eleven versus eleven. I try to help the team, and tonight that meant goals and an assist."
---
"What about your teammates?"
"They're brilliant. Great chemistry. Great support. They made it easy to settle in."
---
The reporters pressed on.
"How'd it feel to score twice?"
"I'm happy about the goals, yeah," he said with a small nod. "But what matters most is that we advanced. That was the objective."
---
Every answer?
Measured. Grounded.
Not too polished. Not arrogant.
Just… solid.
Like someone who'd been doing post-match interviews for years.
---
The Chinese reporters at the back of the scrum exchanged glances.
They hadn't expected this.
Not this level of poise.
Back home, too many players fell apart under basic questions. Fumbled words. Avoided eye contact. Made excuses.
But Alessandro?
Seventeen years old—and he sounded like a seasoned international.
---
"He's got captain's DNA," one of the journalists muttered.
Others nodded slowly.
They were right.
There was something unmistakable about him.
Not just the performance.
The presence.
---
But then came the question no one wanted to ask—yet everyone needed to hear.
"If the national team reached out," one reporter asked, "would you return to represent your country?"
The room went still.
And Alessandro's expression didn't change at all.
---