The lights at the Estádio Nacional were still flickering as the final echoes of cheering fans slowly faded into the night.
The field, once alive with color, chants, and firework flashes, now lay still under the calm sky—yet for Gabriel, everything inside him was still racing.
At just 15years old, Gabriel had stepped onto the field wearing the green and white Jersey for his dream club, Palmeiras, for the first time in a match and he hadn't just played, he had shone.
Scoring on his debut, gliding past defenders with the kind of footwork that reminded many of a younger Neymar, and pulling off flicks and touches that left the crowd in awe—he had, in many ways, stolen the night.
The fans had come in search of something. A spark. A glimpse of the future. And Gabriel, with a shy smile and lightning in his boots, gave them more than they had hoped for.
Reporters packed the press room moments after the match ended.
Outside, fans were still singing, many of them chanting his name—"Gabriel! Gabriel! O moleque é fera!" Even veteran supporters were seen shaking their heads in disbelief.
One older fan, decked in a Palmeiras scarf that had clearly seen decades of football, said to a nearby TV crew, "He reminds me of Rivaldo when he first started. But with his own flair.
We needed this."
Inside the media room, all eyes were on head coach Abel Ferreira, who entered with his usual calm, though a small grin gave away what he was really feeling.
A journalist from Globo Esporte raised his hand.
"Coach, we saw you lining up in a 4-2-3-1 today, which is a bit of a shift from the traditional 4-3-3 you've preferred.
Is this a new tactical direction?"
Abel leaned back, arms crossed, thoughtful. "Look, we want to win every match.
This year, we'll be competing in several competitions: Copa Libertadores, the Brasileirão, and domestic cups.
The key is flexibility. The 4-2-3-1 gives us a bit more control in the midfield and allows players like Gabriel and Andreas Pereira to operate in those pockets of space where they can be most dangerous. So yes, you'll see variations—nothing is fixed."
Another reporter quickly followed up. "Speaking of Gabriel, Coach, what did you make of his debut performance?"
A knowing smile appeared on Abel's face. "I'm not surprised. Not at all. He's been doing that in training—ask any of the players.
He's young, sure, but he's got an old soul for the game. His movement, his intelligence with the ball, and his calmness in front of goal—those aren't things you see in many teenagers.
I'm happy to have him in my squad."
The next focus of attention was Andreas Pereira, the team's experienced midfielder who had captained the side during the match.
Despite Gabriel stealing the spotlight, Andreas spoke with the maturity that comes with years of elite football.
"Was there pressure on you, Andreas, watching this young talent dazzle like that?"
He chuckled lightly. "There's always pressure in football, but not the kind you're thinking.
No jealousy or insecurity. It's healthy pressure—competition. Gabriel had a great night.
But it's pre-season. There are ups and downs ahead. That's part of it.
What matters now is how we help him grow, stay grounded, and prepare for tougher tests."
Then came the inevitable: "Do you think he can keep up this level when the season starts?"
Andreas nodded slowly. "That's the big question, right? Look, talent is one thing. Consistency is another.
He has both, I believe. But we'll see. The league is tough.
He'll be targeted, tested. But he has the right mentality—and the right people around him."
After the interviews, the players made their way to the team bus, exhausted but in high spirits.
The mood was light. Teammates clapped Gabriel on the back as he climbed aboard. Some made jokes.
Others simply nodded at him with the kind of respect few rookies earn on their first day.
He sat by the window, earphones in, watching the city lights blur past as the bus moved toward the hotel.
His phone vibrated in his pocket—multiple times. Dozens of messages.
Some from friends, many from old coaches, fans, reporters, and former teammates. But one call stood out: "Mãe e Pai."
He answered quickly.
"Parabéns, meu filho!" his mother's voice rang out, joyful, emotional.
Gabriel laughed. "Mãe, calm down!"
"You were amazing, Gabriel. We're so proud of you.
You even scored!" his father added, his voice filled with pride.
His older brother, Lucas, grabbed the phone. "Bro! What the hell did I just watch? You were like R9 out there, man! I don't even like football, but now I might start watching. Seriously—if you keep this up, I'll come to São Paulo and watch your league debut at Allianz Parque."
Gabriel grinned. "Only if you bring that pizza from Curitiba I like."
They all laughed, and for a moment, it was as if he was back in his childhood home, sitting at the dinner table after a local youth match, his boots still muddy, his mom bringing out orange slices.
"You remember when you skipped class to go to that dusty pitch to play football?" his dad said.
"How could I forget? I got detention for a week," Gabriel replied.
"Worth it now, huh?" his mother chimed in.
They laughed again. His parents reminded him to rest, not let the hype get to his head, and stay focused.
"We love you, Gabriel. You made us proud," his mom said before hanging up.
That night, alone in his hotel room, Gabriel sat by the window looking out at the Brazilian skyline.
His body ached from the match, but his heart was full. He scrolled through the messages on his phone.
One from his youth club, FC Coritiba, stood out:
"Parabéns, garoto! We always believed in you. You've got more to offer—this is just the beginning."
He smiled.
Another message came from his former coach, Thiago, who once trained him on dusty neighborhood pitches in Curitiba.
"Remember when you couldn't juggle past 10? Look at you now. Keep going. Stay humble. Proud doesn't even begin to cover it."
Gabriel replied simply:
"Thank you, coach. I won't forget where I came from."
Beyond the Hype
Back in the team's hotel, whispers were already circulating among players and staff.
Some joked about Gabriel's sudden popularity, and others discussed the tactical implications of playing him more often.
But inside the club's technical room, the talk was serious.
Assistant Coach leaned over to Abel Ferreira. "He's special.
But we'll need to manage him carefully. One wrong headline, one bad game, and the media turns."
Abel nodded. "I know. We'll protect him. But we also can't hold him back. Talent like that… it deserves the stage."
As the pre-season rolls on, Palmeiras fans are buzzing with renewed hope.
With Eteveo leaving in the transfer window, many feared a creative vacuum.
Gabriel, in just one dazzling performance, has changed that narrative.
But football is not about one night. It's about what happens after—the long season, the inevitable lows, the resilience needed when the spotlight turns cold.
For Gabriel, though, this night will live forever.
He knows that bigger challenges lie ahead: full-backs who won't fall for the same tricks, defenders who'll study his every move, pressure that mounts with every match.
But something within him—something that was born on those dusty pitches in Curitiba and sharpened in FC Coritiba —tells him he's ready.
He isn't just playing for himself anymore. He's playing for everyone who believed in him when he was just a skinny kid juggling a ball in a parking lot, dreaming of something bigger.
The morning after, social media was flooded with headlines:
"Palmeiras' New Jewel Shines Bright"
"From Curitiba Streets to Palmeiras Glory—Gabriel Begins His Journey"
But the young forward, now rising from bed, didn't check Twitter. Instead, he tied the laces on his boots and headed down to breakfast with the squad.
Pre-season wasn't over. The training was for two hours. And Gabriel—though still glowing from his debut—knew this was only the beginning.