The referee's whistle blew to end the match, and a roar thundered around Stadion Galgenwaard like never before that season. Utrecht 4-3 NAC Breda - Final Score. Amani collapsed to his knees on the turf, chest heaving, as the reality washed over him.
Teammates ruffled his hair and patted his back while the home crowd continued to chant his name in adoration. Many fans had their hands on their heads in disbelief, others were dancing, embracing strangers - the joy was unbridled. From despair to triumph, engineered by a teenager making his second appearance - it was a story for the ages.
Amani finally got back to his feet, and as he did, the Utrecht captain Alje Schut pulled him into a tight hug. "Incredible, jongen. You saved us," Schut said into his ear. Amani shook his head, still breathless, "We…we did it together."
But Schut just laughed and raised Amani's arm in the air triumphantly, turning him toward the main stand. The fans responded with a fresh wave of applause. Amani felt heat in his cheeks, a mix of pride and bashfulness. He scanned the stadium and spotted a familiar face hanging over the railing near the players' tunnel - Malik, who must have sprinted from the academy to the stadium the moment the match ended.
Malik's grin was so wide it looked like it hurt. He bellowed at the top of his lungs, voice cracking: "HAMADI MAGIC! LEGEND ALREADY! They're writing songs about you, bro!" This drew laughter from the nearby supporters, and even Amani had to laugh, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend's exuberance.
As Amani walked around the pitch, clapping in thanks to the fans, a local TV reporter approached, eyes alight. A cameraman trailed him, already broadcasting live. "Amani! Amani Hamadi!" the reporter called, and Amani paused, wiping sweat from his brow, before stepping over.
The reporter thrust a microphone forward. "First off, congratulations on an astonishing second appearance. A goal, two assists, you turned the game on its head! How do you feel?" Amani swallowed, aware of thousands of eyes and the camera lens on him. He spoke humbly, voice steady:
"Thank you. I feel… amazing. It was a team effort. The coach trusted me, my teammates believed in me, and the fans…," he glanced up at the still-cheering crowd, "The fans gave me energy. I'm just happy I could repay that faith." The stadium responded with a cheer at his words.
Another question came: "At 15 years old, you played with such composure and vision. People are already comparing your style to some of the great playmakers. How do you handle that?" Amani shook his head modestly. "I'm honored, but I'm just starting. I have a lot to learn. I'll keep listening to the coach and working hard. Two games don't make a career - I want to keep improving and help the team more."
His answer earned applause from a group of fans nearby, impressed by the youngster's grounded attitude. The reporter wrapped up with, "We'll be watching your future closely. Congrats again, Amani." With that, the camera light went off. Amani bowed his head politely and jogged off toward the tunnel, where Malik and Tijmen (who had joined him) were waiting behind the barrier, nearly vibrating with pride.
Before he disappeared down the tunnel, Amani gazed once more at the stands, soaking in the moment. In one corner, he noticed some children in Utrecht jerseys jumping up and down, pretending to re-enact his goal, their faces alight with inspiration.
It struck him deep - he had become the kind of player he himself used to look up to. He was not there yet, but this was real. He waved to those kids, then pointed to the club crest on his shirt. The gesture sent them into delighted squeals.
Under the stadium, as he made his way to the locker room, Amani's hands were still trembling ever so slightly with adrenaline. The corridor was filled with the echo of celebratory shouts from the home dressing room ahead. Suddenly, a soft ding sounded - a noise only Amani could hear.
He slowed his pace, eyes widening slightly as a familiar faint blue glow flickered in his peripheral vision. The System had a notification for him, right on cue after a landmark performance. He lingered in a quiet corner of the tunnel and focused, allowing the translucent interface to materialize privately before him.
***
System Alert:Mission Complete
Performance Summary:
Key Passes: 5
Assists: 2
Goals: 1
Comeback Victory Achieved (from 1-3 down)
Rating: ★★★★☆ (Excellent)
Rewards:
XP Gained: +150
Trait Growth: Visionary Pass +5%, Weighted Through Pass +5%
Bonus: Skill Upgrade Token Earned!
***
Amani blinked at the floating text, heart still thumping. A skill token! The reward glowed enticingly, reminding him of the Advanced Dipping Shot technique he'd been eyeing to upgrade. But that would wait for later tonight.
He allowed himself a tiny smile - not of arrogance, but of satisfaction that his hard work was being recognized by the mysterious System as well. Quickly, he swiped the notification aside; it dissolved into nothingness.
The echoing celebration from the locker room refocused him on the present. Tucking this private triumph into his heart, Amani jogged the rest of the way down the tunnel to join his team.
In the dressing room, pandemonium reigned. Music blared from a speaker, and players were chanting a makeshift song - his name woven into an old Utrecht fan melody. As Amani stepped in, a cheer went up. Veteran players like Schut and Mark van der Maarel beckoned him into the circle.
Someone dumped a bottle of water over Amani's head in playful baptism, and he sputtered, laughing. He was in the center of it all, dripping and grinning ear to ear. Coach Wouters approached, and the commotion quieted just enough for his gravelly voice to be heard:
"Young man," Wouters said, resting both hands on Amani's shoulders, "that was fantastic. You changed the game. Keep your feet on the ground, but be proud tonight." Amani nodded vigorously, "Thank you, coach. I will." His teammates ruffled his hair again as Wouters turned the music back up, allowing the celebrations to continue.
Later that night, long after the stadium had emptied and the cheers had faded to memory, Amani found himself lying in bed at the small apartment. Malik was already asleep in the next room, utterly exhausted from excitement.
But Amani stared at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the match in his mind: the weight of the through-ball, the curve of his shot, the thunder of the crowd. He finally closed his eyes, and in the darkness behind his eyelids, the bright lights of the stadium still glowed.