The contents of the report Hierro received from Sánchez left him genuinely stunned. Although Hierro had known this kid was a genius back at Castilla, the various data points in Sánchez's extremely detailed physical assessment still gave him a sense of pleasant shock.
"Are you sure you didn't make a mistake, Miguel?"
"You're doubting my work, Fernando. Please do not insult my profession."
"Alright, alright. But this is just too hard to believe. You're telling me a guy who's 1.9 meters tall and weighs 91kg clocked a 10.9-second hundred-meter sprint? This is simply inconceivable."
"I know you don't believe it. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me at first too. But you know what, Fernando? I measured it three times. Seriously, do you know what I was thinking when I saw him sprinting? It's like someone installed a bloody jet engine on a heavy tank. Do you know he was flying? Can you understand the feeling of a tank flying? Honestly, Fernando, imagine what the situation would be like in a match. For a defender, André is an absolute nightmare."
"Have the other tests been done?"
"No, I couldn't wait to bring this to you, Fernando. No matter how his subsequent tests go, we cannot miss out on a genius like this. Otherwise, we'll both be the villains of Oviedo's history."
"Okay, Miguel. We won't be villains—we'll be the heroes of Oviedo. Since I brought him here, it means he's definitely staying. Let's go. No need for the other tests. Organize a training match. Let's see this genius's actual performance on the pitch."
While Hierro and Sánchez were discussing André, he was standing bored on the sidelines watching the Oviedo players train. Sánchez had just put him through a physical assessment, and after it was over, the old man had sprinted off like he'd found a winning lottery ticket, leaving André behind without a word.
"Saúl, why does that guy look so familiar?"
Angresola, a defender for the Real Oviedo first team currently training on the pitch, spoke to the team's main striker, Saúl, beside him.
"Where?"
"There. Standing over there watching us train."
Following his teammate's gesture, Saúl turned his head toward André's direction.
"Bloody hell, what's he doing here? Angre, you don't remember this guy?"
"Can't recall. He just looks somewhat familiar."
"Isn't this that red card expert from Castilla? You forgot? In our last match against them, this guy hadn't even been on the pitch for five minutes before he knocked his own teammate unconscious with a punch, then spat directly in the referee's face."
"Oh, right, right! I remember now. It's him. We were completely gobsmacked last time. Why is he here at our place?"
"I heard our new head coach, Mr. Hierro, went to Castilla today saying he hoped to find some young players. He couldn't have brought this guy back, could he?"
"No way, right? I heard this guy fights like an absolute madman—even beats up coaches. If he's brought here, won't he beat us up too? Looking at him, I couldn't take one of his punches."
"My old bones couldn't handle it either. I heard this guy is Cristiano's cousin, and that's the only reason he stayed at Castilla for so long. I don't want to play with someone like that. It's too dangerous."
"Mr. Hierro's here."
The Oviedo players who noticed André weren't just those two. Mainly, his physique stood out like a lighthouse—it was impossible not to notice him. Furthermore, since Oviedo and Castilla were both in the Segunda División, André's previous antics had made him a minor celebrity in the league. It could be said that more than half of the Oviedo players knew him. And while a few younger players hadn't seen him personally, they'd definitely heard of the name 'Segunda División Red Card Expert'.
Beep! Beep!
Sánchez blew his whistle to signal the players to gather, then beckoned to André standing on the sidelines.
Once the players had assembled and lined up, André stood beside Hierro.
"Lads, the new season starts soon. Our Real Oviedo is a club with a long and proud history. Of course, we're facing some difficulties now, but I believe that as long as we work together, we can definitely restore Oviedo's former glory. Today, we have a new teammate joining us. Everyone, welcome him. André, say hello to everyone."
André looked at the way these people were staring at him and knew clearly that these guys probably recognized him—no, wait, they recognized the old him. Damn. His reputation really was notorious.
"Hello everyone. I'm André Cristiano dos Santos Cleto. You can call me André."
He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't exactly tell these people that the past was over and he was turning over a new leaf starting now. Probably not many would believe that anyway. Damn. The road ahead was long and arduous.
Hierro and Sánchez could also see that the squad was a bit resistant. After all, in their eyes, André was equivalent to a team cancer. As professional players, they didn't want someone like that as a teammate.
"Next, we'll play a training match."
Hierro spoke up. He knew that to get André integrated into the team, the only way was to let him use his ability to win these people over. In football, everything ultimately comes down to talent and performance. Everything else is just noise.
Next, Hierro and Sánchez divided the players into groups: the starters against the substitutes. Hierro would lead the substitute team, and Sánchez would lead the starting eleven.
"André, you'll play striker. The rest of you, play entirely around André. Pass and support based on his movement. Is that clear? I'll substitute anyone who doesn't follow my tactics."
Looking at the faces of his new teammates, André finally understood why Hierro had desperately gone to Castilla searching for reinforcements. This bloody team was truly suffering from a talent crisis. Most of the starting team looked to be in their early thirties, and the substitute team was even more absurd—a collection of veterans, with only the goalkeeper looking to be around twenty years old.
While André was lost in thought, several players on the starting team were currently plotting how to give André a hard time and make him quit.
Even the team captain, the 35-year-old Colares, didn't stop them. That showed just how much of an impact the original André's reputation had created.
"I heard this guy has a very short fuse," said the starting team's goalkeeper, Juan Carlos. "If you provoke him even a little, he'll explode immediately. Later, whoever matches up against him, goad him. I guarantee the match will end right then and there."
"Yeah, I've heard that too."
"But won't this guy start throwing punches? Won't the person who provokes him get hurt?"
"What's there to fear? When it happens, the rest of us will jump in together. With so many of us, why should we be scared of him alone? It's settled then," Saúl said, finalizing the plan.
Since he was a striker, he wouldn't be matching up against André anyway. Even if someone got hit, it wouldn't be him.
However, several starting defenders looked distinctly uneasy after hearing Saúl say that.
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