Chapter 9: Messi… That Guy Is a True Genius
If the Copa Libertadores was comparable to the Champions League, then the Copa Sudamericana was its counterpart—second only in prestige, but no less demanding.
As the defending champions from last season, São Paulo still had a chance to compete for silverware.
After their elimination from the Libertadores, the team entered a short adjustment period.
It wasn't a vacation.
Training never stopped.
Ken had been with the first team for nearly a month now. As a product of São Paulo's own youth academy, he blended in quickly. More importantly, he earned respect the Brazilian way—through ability.
Because he was the youngest, the veterans naturally took care of him.
And because his performances were solid, no one questioned his place.
This was Brazil.
Talent mattered.
But strength mattered more.
---
"Alright, that's enough for today."
On the training pitch, Ramalho brought the session to a close.
"Everyone come over."
The players gathered lazily.
"The league kicked off today," Ramalho said. "Tomorrow, it's our turn."
Most players showed little reaction.
But Ken's eyes brightened slightly.
Ramalho noticed.
"Our first match is away. Same routine—meet at the club tomorrow morning, bus to Campinas."
He paused, then took a list from the assistant coach.
"I'll announce the squad now."
"Goalkeepers: Denis, Léo.
Defenders: Juan, Paulo, Thiago, Edson, Lúcio, Pereira.
Midfielders: Wellington, Maicon, Denílson, Rodrigo, Jadson.
Forwards: Silvinho, Fabiano, Osvaldo, Aloísio… Ken."
Ken released a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Dismissed," Ramalho said, then added, "Ken—no extra training today. Match tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
---
Ken walked back toward the dormitory in a good mood, already thinking about calling home.
"Ken?"
A voice stopped him.
He turned toward the youth training ground.
A boy—small, sharp-eyed, clearly younger than the others—ran toward him.
"It really is you!" the boy said excitedly. "You're back at the club?"
Ken smiled politely.
"Do I know you?"
"Of course!" the boy nodded vigorously. "I joined the academy hearing stories about you. When you left, I was really disappointed. I'm glad you're back."
He straightened his back.
"My name's Antony. Antony Matheus dos Santos. I joined the academy in 2010."
"Nice to meet you," Ken said, ruffling his hair lightly. "How old are you?"
"I'm thirteen."
Ken blinked.
Thirteen?
He'd assumed ten at most.
Still—anyone who survived in São Paulo's youth system had something special.
Antony seemed to sense Ken's surprise and lifted his chin stubbornly.
"I know you're a genius—on the same level as Neymar. But I'm not bad either. One day, everyone will know my name."
Ken laughed softly.
"That's good. Remember—if you want to reach places others can't, you have to work harder than everyone else."
Antony nodded seriously.
"I will. Coach said you were the most talented and the hardest-working back then. I've always used you as my target."
Ken paused.
So he had fans already.
"Then keep going," Ken said warmly. "You'll make it."
As he walked away, Ken glanced back.
Antony was practicing alone—ball glued to his foot, spinning effortlessly in place.
Ken smiled faintly.
---
Back in his room, Ken was about to call Uncle Smith when his phone rang first.
An unfamiliar number.
He hesitated, then answered.
"Oi! You disappear for two years and don't even call once? Some friend you are!"
Ken froze.
"…Neymar?"
"Hah! You still remember me!"
Neymar laughed loudly.
"You went off for two years, then suddenly reappear in São Paulo without a word. Do you even consider me a brother?"
Ken smiled wryly.
There had been reasons he never called—grief, distance, and pride.
One of them had soared.
The other had vanished.
Neymar seemed to sense it and didn't push.
"It's good you're back," Neymar continued. "Play well in Brazil for a couple of years. Once I'm fully established in Europe, I'll pull you over. Then the São Paulo twin stars can dominate together."
Still the same.
Confident. Loud. Unfiltered.
Ken chuckled.
"By the way," Neymar added, his tone shifting, "before coming to Europe, I thought you and I were the best. Messi, Ronaldo—just media hype."
There was a pause.
"But after training with him every day… that guy Messi is something else."
Ken listened quietly.
"I don't bow to many people," Neymar continued seriously. "You were one of them. But Messi? He's different. A real genius."
Ken leaned back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"In the future," Neymar said, "Argentina will be our biggest rival."
Ken closed his eyes.
For the first time—
The road ahead felt real.