The humid Miami air was thick with anticipation.
A soft ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and sunscreen as the Palmeiras team bus rolled up to the modest media venue set up just blocks from their beachside hotel.
The players had landed only hours earlier, but there was no time for relaxation.
There were expectations, both from fans and within the team itself.
Inside the conference room, cameras clicked and murmurs filled the space.
This was more than just another preseason tour — it was a statement of intent. Palmeiras weren't in Miami to play tourists.
They came to work, to sweat, and to build something meaningful.
The club's head coach, **Abel Ferreira**, entered first, sharp in a clean white polo shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his face betraying a calm intensity.
Beside him sat the team captain, **Gustavo Gómez**, his posture as commanding as his presence on the pitch.
Together, they represented the mindset Palmeiras had carried into the United States: serious, focused, and unapologetically ambitious.
The press didn't waste time.
The first question was sharp: "Abel, where is Raphael Veiga?"
Abel nodded, his face unmoved.
> "Raphael will join us soon. He has some personal issues, family-related.
We support him, and it's nothing long-term. He'll be here in 48 hours.
But in the meantime, the work doesn't stop. We train, we prepare. That's what a team does."
His answer was firm but fair, a tone he often used when deflecting distraction.
A short pause followed before another reporter leaned in, voice eager.
> "You've always emphasized mentality over just raw talent.
What's your approach here in Miami, with such limited time to adjust?"
Abel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice lowering just slightly.
"You're right. Talent wins games, but mentality builds champions.
We're not just here to play. We're here to grow.
Every session, every match, every meal — it all matters.
Tomorrow morning, we start early. The players will sweat, not as punishment, but to remind themselves of the level we must reach. No time to waste."
There was a clarity to his words, an almost militant edge, but not without heart.
That balance was what made Abel Ferreira such a magnetic figure in South American football.
He didn't just coach football — he coached human beings.
The next question turned toward a name increasingly whispered in international football circles: **Gabriel Silver**.
The young attacking midfielder had burst onto the scene with a string of brilliant performances back in Brazil — goals, assists, creativity.
A new star in the making. The journalist pressed:
"With Gabriel Silver's form — if it stays this way, scoring and assisting — will you build the team around him?"
Abel didn't flinch.
"We don't build teams around one player. That's dangerous.
If that one player drops form or gets injured, what happens then? No — Gabriel is important, of course.
Sitting beside him, Gustavo Gómez gave a subtle nod.
It was a sentiment he clearly agreed with — a philosophy that had turned Palmeiras into a winning machine.
One reporter turned to the captain.
"Gustavo, what's your relationship like with Gabriel Silver?"
Gómez cracked a rare smile.
"He's like my little brother. He respects me, not because I wear the armband, but because we understand each other. He listens, he learns.
He's smart — on and off the pitch. I feel proud of him.
And when I see him next to me in the locker room, I feel confident.
That's the kind of player he is — one you want by your side."
It was an answer that spoke volumes — not just about Gabriel, but about the culture within Palmeiras. Respect wasn't commanded; it was earned.
The final question was more local.
> "Captain, any message for the Palmeiras fans here in Miami?"
Gómez didn't hesitate.
"Football without fans is nothing. We came here for them.
I want to see them at training, at matches — cheering, singing. We want to give them pride.
This badge means something, not just in São Paulo, but around the world. So to our fans here — thank you.
We feel your support. And we're going to make sure you don't regret it."
With that, the press conference wrapped. Cameras kept flashing as players filtered out.
Some stopped to smile, others were eager to get back to the hotel and rest. But not Gabriel Silver.
The 15-year-old midfielder lingered, spotting a young Brazilian boy pressed against the barriers, holding up a Palmeiras jersey with Gabriel's name crudely written on the back in black marker.
The boy had been waiting since sunrise. Gabriel walked over, crouched down, and signed the shirt without saying a word.
Then he smiled, patted the kid on the head, and slipped back into the building.
As the team settled into their hotel in Miami after the press conference, there was a sense of quiet anticipation in the air.
The long flight, the attention from the media, and the weight of expectations hadn't dulled the buzz of being in one of the world's most iconic cities — especially for a young player like Gabriel Silver.
While most of the players were unpacking or ordering food, Gabriel slipped away to his room, pulling the curtains wide open.
The view from his window was breathtaking: golden-orange streaks of sunset painting the Miami sky, palm trees swaying lightly in the ocean breeze, and the city glowing as night slowly arrived.
He couldn't stop thinking about it: Messi.
In just a few days, Palmeiras would face Inter Miami in a high-profile friendly. And with luck, Lionel Messi would be on the pitch.
Gabriel couldn't stop replaying that possibility in his mind — sharing the field with one of the greatest in football . The idea seemed surreal.
*"I might play against Messi… I might defend the same ball, chase the same pass… what if I nutmeg him? What if he nutmegs me?"*
He laughed quietly to himself, but then his expression sobered.
He took out his phone and called home. His mother picked up immediately.
**"Oi, mãe,"** Gabriel said with a smile, walking over to the window.
**"Gabriel! Como você tá, meu filho?"** She answered, her voice warm and familiar, grounding him.
"Tô bem. Você precisava ver isso aqui... Miami é linda demais. Parece coisa de filme, sabe? O céu, o mar, os prédios, tudo brilha. É diferente do Brasil, não melhor... só diferente. É muito bonito, mãe."**
His father joined in the call a few moments later, and Gabriel told them everything — about the flight, the hotel, the media attention, and the fans waiting outside.
Then his voice dropped slightly, becoming softer, more thoughtful.
**"Pai... mãe..."** he hesitated, lying back on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Vocês acreditam que eu vou jogar contra o Messi? O Messi, mãe.
Aquele que eu via na televisão desde pequeno, que tinha pôster no meu quarto. Agora... eu posso estar na mesma grama que ele. Eu ainda não acredito."**
There was a long pause. His parents stayed silent, just listening.
**"Eu sei que ainda tenho que treinar muito pra entrar no time titular nesse jogo.
Mas eu tô pronto pra trabalhar. Não quero só ver ele de longe... quero jogar, quero competir. Mesmo que seja por poucos minutos. Quero merecer isso."**
His mother responded quietly, her voice almost trembling.
"Filho, você já é um orgulho. E Messi também é só humano.
Ele só chegou lá porque trabalhou muito. Igualzinho você tá fazendo agora."**
Gabriel smiled. He stayed on the phone a while longer, talking about the food, the way the air smelled near the beach, the fans who called his name outside the venue.
He mentioned signing a jersey for a young Brazilian boy who reminded him of himself years ago.
After he hung up, the room was quiet.
He lay back on the bed, hands folded behind his head.
The city buzzed softly outside the window, but inside his room, everything felt still.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind — the past, the sacrifices, the loneliness of being far from home, the thrill of this new chapter.
But above all, one thought sat firmly in his chest:
I'm here. And I belong here.
Tomorrow morning, training will start early. Abel would push them hard, just as he said. But Gabriel didn't mind.
He wanted to be ready. He had a dream to chase — and now, Messi was part of that dream.
He closed his eyes, not just to rest, but to visualize. The field.
The roar of fans. The ball is at his feet. And the greatest of all time just meters away.
Tomorrow was just training.
But tonight, it felt like everything was possible.