Montevideo kicked off with renewed energy. Roque touched it back to Matías, who immediately looked for Che on the left. The pass came quickly, and Che controlled it facing forward. But this time, Suárez and Peralta were already closing—both of them, coordinated, no longer casual in their approach.
Two defenders committed to your position, the System noted. Passing lanes opening: Matías center, Cabrera right.
Che played it back to Matías before the pressure arrived. The midfielder took one touch and tried to switch play to Cabrera, but the pass was slightly overhit. It rolled out for a throw-in.
The pattern had changed. Maldonado was tracking Che now—not just one player shadowing him, but their entire defensive shape adjusting whenever he touched the ball. When he dropped deep to receive, Romero followed. When he positioned himself wide, their full-back tucked in and their winger tracked back to provide secondary coverage.
But that awareness created opportunities elsewhere. Montevideo's other players suddenly had space they hadn't enjoyed all match. The problem was what they did with it.
Pereira won possession in the defensive third and immediately played it forward to Che. Two Maldonado players closed on him instantly. Che took one touch to control, felt the pressure converging, and laid it off to Cabrera, who was completely unmarked fifteen meters away on the right side.
Cabrera's first touch was heavy. The ball bounced off his boot awkwardly, rolling three meters ahead of him instead of staying close. By the time he recovered it, Ibarra had closed the space. The right midfielder tried to cross, but the delivery was poor—too high, too floated. Méndez collected it easily.
Moments later, Che received the ball in the center circle with his back to goal. Romero pressed immediately, but Che had already felt him coming. He turned, using his body to shield the ball, and played it wide to Silva, who had space on the left flank.
Silva took two touches—one to control, one to set himself—and in that time, Costa had recovered into position. The left midfielder tried to dribble past him, but his touch was too far ahead. Costa intercepted cleanly and Maldonado countered.
Teammates' technical limitations visible, the System observed. First touch quality: below threshold for effective possession in final third. Recommend continuing to attract defensive attention, creating space for higher-percentage opportunities.
Che understood it without the System telling him. His teammates were trying, their effort undeniable, but the technical gap between what he could do and what they could execute was enormous. Passes he weighted perfectly arrived at their feet, but their first touches let them down. Spaces he created with his movement went unexploited because they couldn't read the game quickly enough.
But he kept trying.
Álvarez won a header in the defensive third, directing it toward midfield. Che collected it under pressure from Peralta, turned, and immediately saw Roque making a run through the center. The passing lane was tight—Ramos was positioned to intercept—but there was a window if the ball was weighted perfectly.
Che played it with the outside of his right boot, curling it around Ramos's positioning. The pass threaded between two defenders and arrived at Roque's feet just as he reached the edge of the box.
The striker took one touch to control it, but the touch was heavy. The ball bounced ahead of him, and Navarro recovered into position, dispossessing him before he could shoot. Another opportunity wasted.
Roque slammed his fist against his thigh in frustration. "I know! I know!" he shouted, to no one in particular.
Che jogged back into position, feeling the weight of it. He could create chances, could see the patterns developing, could execute the passes that unlocked defenses. But if his teammates couldn't finish the sequence, it didn't matter.
Maldonado was still dangerous. They'd absorbed Montevideo's brief surge and were reasserting control. Romero dropped deep to collect a pass from Ramos, turned away from Matías's press, and played a diagonal ball to Ortiz on the right. The winger drove at Pereira, forcing the left-back to backpedal, then cut inside and struck from distance.
The shot was rising, curling toward the top corner. Rodríguez dove, getting fingertips to it, deflecting it over the crossbar. The small crowd behind the goal exhaled collectively.
From the resulting corner, Machado got his head to it, but Álvarez was positioned perfectly to clear. The ball went out to the edge of the box where Suárez was waiting. The defensive midfielder struck it first time on the volley. The shot was powerful but lacked precision—it sailed two meters over the crossbar.
Close. Too close. Maldonado was reminding Montevideo that despite the goal, they were still in control.
Then Che found another opening.
Fernández intercepted a pass intended for Machado, heading it forward into midfield. The ball landed in space between Che and Peralta. Che reached it first, his positioning a half-step better, and immediately turned. Peralta tried to recover, but Che was already accelerating.
Three defenders ahead, the System showed him. Suárez closing from right. Ramos stepping forward. Acosta shifting central. Gap exists between Ramos and Navarro if exploited within two seconds.
Che pushed the ball forward with his right foot, drawing Suárez toward him. The defensive midfielder committed to the challenge, stepping in aggressively. Che chopped the ball back with his left, reversing direction, and Suárez's momentum carried him past.
One beaten.
Ramos was closing now, the center-back stepping out of his defensive line to stop Che's advance. To Ramos's left, Navarro was shifting to cover. The gap between them was narrowing—maybe two meters of space and closing fast.
Che pushed the ball through that gap with the outside of his right boot, then accelerated after it. Ramos tried to adjust, reaching out with his leg, but Che slipped past his shoulder. Navarro lunged, trying to intercept, but Che had already touched the ball past him.
Two beaten. Three beaten.
Now Che was in the box, eighteen meters from goal, with only Méndez to beat. The goalkeeper was positioned well, cutting off the near post angle. Che took one touch to set himself, his right foot preparing to strike.
Shooting angle: 23 degrees. Goalkeeper positioning: optimal for near post. Recommendation: far post placement, low.
Che struck it with his right foot, aiming for the far post, keeping it low. The contact felt good—clean, powerful, the ball leaving his boot with purpose.
But the angle was too tight. The ball rolled past the far post by half a meter, missing by inches.
Che stood there for a moment, hands on his head. So close. The Montevideo fans behind the goal groaned. Matías was shouting encouragement—"Next one! Next one!"—but Che could feel the missed opportunity settling in his chest.
He'd beaten three players. Had created a genuine scoring chance from nothing. But he'd missed. The System could show him the angles, could calculate the optimal placement, but execution was still his responsibility. And he'd failed.
Shot accuracy requires refinement, the System noted. Finishing attribute currently B-. Under pressure in tight angles, precision drops to C+ range. Recommend continued practice in one-on-one situations.
Che jogged back into position as Maldonado's goal kick was taken. He understood something now that he hadn't fully grasped before. The System could show him everything—the gaps, the angles, the timing—but it couldn't make him perfect. His first touch was excellent. His vision was advanced. His ability to read the game was beyond his years.
But his finishing needed work. His physicality was still a limitation. His stamina, while improved, wasn't infinite. He had so much still to develop, so many areas where the gap between what he could see and what he could execute remained wide.
But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, his team needed him to help them win.
The game compressed into a tighter pattern. Both teams creating chances, neither converting. Montevideo's confidence had grown, but their technical limitations remained. Maldonado was still more skilled, still more organized, but they were visibly frustrated by Che's ability to disrupt their rhythm.
Che received the ball near the touchline with Ortiz pressing him immediately. He played it inside to Matías, who tried a first-time pass to Roque. The weight was wrong—too hard—and the ball rolled out for a goal kick.
Maldonado built from the back, patient and controlled. Romero collected the ball in space and tried to turn, but Vargas was pressing him harder now, energized by Montevideo's resurgence. The attacking midfielder played it backward, and Maldonado reset.
Che tracked back, helping defensively, his legs burning from the constant sprints. The System was monitoring his stamina—still in the acceptable range, but declining. Every run, every press, every dribble was costing him energy that would be harder to recover as the match continued.
But he kept moving. Kept demanding the ball. Kept creating opportunities that his teammates couldn't quite finish.
Cabrera won possession on the right and immediately looked for Che. The pass came across the field, and Che controlled it with Peralta closing from behind. He turned, drawing the midfielder toward him, then played a quick pass to Roque, who had dropped deeper to receive.
The striker tried to play Silva through on the left, but the pass was intercepted by Ramos. Another sequence that had started with promise but ended with a turnover.
Che bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. His teammates were trying. They were fighting. But the technical gap was real, and no amount of effort could completely bridge it.
Still, they were competing now. They were creating chances. And that was something that hadn't seemed possible fifteen minutes ago.