The sun climbed higher over Munich, casting long shadows across the training fields.The morning's grueling physical evaluations were over.
Now came the second and equally important phase:
Technical Evaluation.
The boys were divided into small groups and rotated through different stations, each one designed to measure essential skills:
Control of the ball
Dribbling under pressure
Passing accuracy
No matter how fast or strong a player was, in Germany, if you couldn't master the ball at your feet, you would never wear a professional jersey.
First Station: Ball Control
The drill was simple — or so it seemed.
Coaches launched passes from different angles, varying speeds, and different heights.The players had to control the ball cleanly on the first touch, maintaining balance and fluidity.
Mateo stepped up.
The ball came fast — he cushioned it with his thigh, let it drop, and trapped it underfoot smoothly.
The next pass came higher — he mistimed slightly, needing an extra touch to bring it down.
Another came low and fast — he adjusted, but barely.
He completed the exercise competently, but not spectacularly.
He knew it.
His touches were clean enough to pass — but lacked the refined polish of boys who had been groomed in technical drills since they were six years old.
One coach scribbled something on his clipboard, neither overly impressed nor disappointed.
Second Station: Passing Precision
The players stood at varying distances from small, moving targets — poles, mini-goals, small markers — and had to hit them with passes both on the ground and in the air.
Mateo inhaled deeply and focused.
Short passes — decent.Mid-range passes — a few off-target.Long passes — passable, but lacking the perfect weight and spin of more polished academy players.
Again — average.
Efficient.Acceptable.
But not shining.
Third Station: Dribbling Under Pressure
Here, everything changed.
The setup was a narrow course of cones, obstacles, and defenders, designed to simulate navigating tight spaces during a real match.
Mateo tightened the laces of his cleats.
He could feel it — the Dribbling Instinct skill humming beneath his skin, waiting.
The whistle blew.
Mateo moved.
And for the first time all day — the world around him slowed down.
The ball stuck to his foot like it was tied by an invisible string.He weaved through the cones with subtle body feints, gliding smoothly between narrow gaps.He accelerated past mock defenders with sharp, explosive bursts of speed, shifting weight effortlessly, changing direction in ways that made it seem like he was skating on air.
Other boys kicked the ball too far ahead, stumbled, or hesitated.
Mateo?He danced through the obstacles with grace that seemed almost unnatural.
The coaches along the sideline watched silently — eyebrows rising, eyes widening.
"Look at that control," one of them muttered, barely above a whisper.
"That change of pace... the way he keeps the ball glued to his foot..." another said, scribbling furiously.
A third, older coach — stern and grizzled from decades of scouting — squinted closely at Mateo and grunted:
"It reminds me of Messi."
The others turned to him, surprised.
He nodded seriously.
"Not the full version, of course. Not yet. But the way he carries the ball... the instinct... it's the same feeling."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.
Mateo finished the course, chest heaving slightly but face calm.
He didn't celebrate.He didn't pump his fists.
He simply turned, retrieved the ball, and waited for the next instruction — steady, focused.
Inside, though, he felt the system hum approvingly:
[Dribbling Instinct: +3% Mastery Progress]
He smiled inwardly.
The system's gift — Messi's dribbling — was real.
But he also knew the truth:his control and passing were still only average.
He had built his body into a weapon.He had polished one shard of his technical game to brilliance.
But he wasn't complete yet.
Not even close.
And that realization only sharpened his hunger.
As the coaches reorganized the players for the final phase — the small-sided match simulations — Mateo bounced the ball lightly between his feet, feeling its weight, its rhythm.
He was ready.
He had shown a glimpse of what he could become.
Now, it was time to show if he could turn brilliance into victory.