A Preseason Journey
The morning sun peeked over the horizon in São Paulo, casting golden hues across the glass facade of the team hotel.
The hum of excitement in the air was undeniable.
It wasn't just any ordinary day—it marked the beginning of something new, something fresh.
The time to fly to Brasília had finally arrived. For Palmeiras, this wasn't just about pre-season drills or tactical briefings.
It was a chance to shape the team's identity for the long months ahead, to test new combinations, and perhaps most importantly, to unleash their most talked-about young talent—Gabriel Silver.
Down in the hotel lobby, the players gathered slowly, some sipping on protein shakes, others chatting in quiet tones with staff members. Dressed in matching green travel kits, their presence commanded attention.
Among them, Coach Abel Ferreira stood near the exit doors, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning his players one by one.
He wasn't just ensuring everyone was present—he was reading body language, checking mental readiness.
This was the start of their journey, and it had to be done right.
"Boys," he called out, his Portuguese accent sharp and clear. "Once we step on that bus, we're officially in preseason mode. Focus. Unity. Discipline. And above all—family. Let's make this count."
Outside the hotel, a different kind of energy was brewing.
Hundreds of fans had gathered early, some as early as 6 a.m., hoping to catch a glimpse of their idols before they headed off. The crowd was alive with chants, flags waving, and voices raised in the club's anthem.
Children sat on their fathers' shoulders. Teenagers waved homemade banners. Some signs read **"G. Silver: Our Messi"**, **"Number 46, Our Hero"**, and even **"Gabriel, Born for the Ball."**
But one name dominated all the shirts, posters, and conversations: *Gabriel Silver*.
Just fifteen years old, Gabriel had become a sensation overnight. It wasn't just because of his age—it was the way he played.
With a swagger, a grace, and creativity that reminded many of legends long past. Fans compared him to Kaká, Neymar, and yes, even Messi. His number 46 jersey had sold out across most of São Paulo in the past month alone.
As the players stepped outside, they were met with roars. Some waved back, others went straight into signing autographs.
Gabriel, ever the humble teenager, approached the fans with a wide smile. He bent down to sign the shirt of a boy who couldn't have been more than 10.
"Obrigado," the boy said with bright eyes.
"De nada," Gabriel replied, tousling the boy's hair.
Despite trying his best, Gabriel couldn't sign for everyone.
The crowd pressed forward, and security had to step in to keep things calm. Still, the atmosphere remained electric.
Coach Abel glanced at his watch.
"Alright, everyone! Let's move!"
The team boarded the sleek, green-and-white bus bearing the Palmeiras logo, waving to the fans as the engine roared to life.
As the vehicle pulled away, a sizable number of fans began to walk along with it, keeping pace for a good twenty minutes before they reached the main road.
Among the fans walking back, conversations buzzed.
"I wish I could follow them to Brasília," one man said, clutching a green scarf.
"Yeah," his friend replied, "especially that Gabriel guy. I just like him.
You know, I swear he was playing football in his mother's womb before he was even born!"
They both laughed.
"Did you see that goal he scored in training last week? Unreal.
A backheel volley from the edge of the box. Not every player can pull that off—not at fifteen."
"Exactly. He's special. I think he's going to give us something to really cheer about this season."
"But don't forget," the first man added, "he's got serious competition. Pereira is no joke."
"True, that's going to be a hot position battle. I even heard they had a bit of an argument in training about who starts."
"Let's hope it stays competitive, not toxic. This is a make-or-break season."
Meanwhile, the team bus was already halfway to the airport.
The players chatted softly, music played from the speakers, and a few of them caught quick naps.
Gabriel sat near the back, earbuds in, nodding to a soft beat, his gaze out the window.
His mind was racing—not with fear, but with anticipation. He knew eyes were on him. This preseason would define his place on the team.
Two hours before their flight, they arrived at the airport, only to find another surprise.
Fans had beaten them there.
Security personnel were overwhelmed by the sheer number. While they tried to maintain control, several fans broke through to get close to the players. Again, autographs were signed, selfies snapped. But time was short.
Coach Abel gave the signal.
"We need to move, boys."
The team offered quick waves and goodbyes, disappearing into the terminal.
The flight took off on schedule, and after a smooth journey, they landed in Brasília around 4:30 p.m.
Waiting at the airport was a barrage of media personnel, all ready to catch soundbites and shots of the team's arrival.
Flashbulbs lit the air like tiny fireworks. No one could miss the cameras zooming in on Gabriel Silver the moment he stepped off the plane.
He gave a polite nod, said nothing, and joined his teammates on the team bus to their hotel. They needed rest. Training begins tomorrow.
At breakfast the next morning, the dining hall was quiet. The air smelled of eggs, coffee, and anticipation.
Gabriel sat beside Gomez, the team captain, and across from Pereira.
They didn't speak much. Not because of tension—but because the day ahead demanded focus.
The first training session was entirely physical. The players jogged laps, lifted weights, performed stretches, and pushed through high-intensity interval drills.
The coaching staff monitored everything closely. No balls touched the grass that morning.
This was about building endurance, about understanding whose body was truly ready for the long grind of the season.
After training, the team lined up for media responsibilities.
Coach Abel Ferreira and captain Gustavo Gomez were selected to answer questions.
The press conference was held in a brightly lit room at the training ground.
Dozens of journalists filled the chairs, recorders and cameras pointed straight at the duo.
"Coach Ferreira," a reporter began, "do you feel the team is ready for the season, or are you planning more signings?"
Abel smiled.
"I believe we have balance. Our squad is strong. We won't be adding any more players this window. The talent we need is already here."
"What about Gabriel Silver?" another asked. "He's become a sensation. How is he performing in training?"
"He's doing very well," Abel replied without hesitation. "He has something rare. Talent, yes, but also intelligence. He listens. He learns.
He's making a strong case to be in the starting lineup. We didn't sign him as a record investment to sit on the bench. He's earned minutes, and he'll get them."
Attention then turned to Gomez.
"As captain, how do you see the team dynamics—especially between young players like Gabriel and experienced ones like Pereira?"
Gomez chuckled.
"People love to create stories. But honestly, things are great. Gabriel's a nice kid. He brings joy to the team.
Pereira's a competitor, and that's good for everyone. You want that in a club pushing for trophies."
"Who would you compare Gabriel to?" another journalist asked.
Gomez paused.
"I won't compare him. He's unique. He doesn't need to be the next anyone. He's the first Gabriel Silver. And we're lucky to have him."
After the media session, the players returned to the hotel for a brief rest before their evening training.
This time, the balls would come out. Tactics. Shape. Movement. Position battles would begin.
Gabriel Silver knew it.
So did Andreas Pereira.
And so did every player fighting for their place in Abel's team.
This preseason wasn't just about fitness. It was about identity.
Brotherhood. Earning your spot, and proving you belonged.
And as the sun set over Brasília that evening, casting long shadows across the training ground, one thing was certain:
The real season had already begun.