Pastore's tackle was surgical — a clean, precise interception that stripped the ball from the Chilean attack. In a flash, he was back on his feet and slotted a perfect diagonal pass down the flank.
It was so smooth, it looked choreographed. But it wasn't. It was instinct. Rhythm. Tempo.
Marcelo, who had been shadowing Mascherano, found himself wrong-footed. Mascherano accelerated, gained control, and the Argentine trident surged forward.
But just as the crowd braced for the first real Argentine wave, Bayern's Vidal and Leverkusen's Charles crashed into midfield like a collapsing wall. Their pressure boxed Mascherano in, stopping the momentum before it even started.
Marcelo reacted fast, closing in from the left.
But Mascherano wasn't trapped.
He glanced left — and there he was.
Romeo Teixeira.
The black-haired teenager cut a striking figure — composed, unreadable, yet brimming with intent. His black curls bounced with each movement as he flowed into space. Mascherano slipped him the ball with trust.
Romeo's feet danced.
A shoulder feint. A sudden drop in balance. A disguised flick. Vidal and Charles hesitated for just a beat — and Romeo struck. The ball zipped between them.
"Beautiful footwork!"
The broadcast room ignited.
But the moment Romeo touched the ball, the stadium turned.
Boos. Loud and aggressive. The Chilean fans wanted to rattle him — a teenager starting for Argentina? In the number 7 shirt?
Even some Argentine supporters watched with crossed arms, unconvinced. A kid from the U.S. second division, leapfrogging their homegrown stars?
Romeo didn't flinch.
He cradled the ball with his right foot, pivoted smoothly, then pushed forward with his left. His movements were clean, efficient — no wasted motion.
But Chile was coming.
Marcelo trailed behind, closing in.
And now — Yisla.
The Chilean right-back was fast. Not flashy, not technical — but a tackling machine. His defensive instincts were sharp enough to make top-tier attackers hesitate.
Yisla's eyes locked on the ball. He dove.
Sliding tackle.
From the commentary box, the broadcasters held their breath. The tackle was textbook — even Messi had lost the ball to this guy.
But Romeo?
Romeo flicked the ball up with the toe of his right boot.
Using the momentum of his sprint, he sprang forward — soaring just above Yisla's desperate slide.
The ball dropped. Romeo touched it with the inside of his left foot mid-air. It was balletic — clean, effortless.
"Magic!" roared the commentator. "That's top-tier composure from the teenager!"
Romeo surged into the final third.
Charles lunged, trying to recover. Romeo skipped by him with a quick juke.
He lifted his eyes.
A passing lane appeared in his mind — success rate: 91%.
He fired.
The ball carved through the Chilean defense, slicing between Hara and Medel.
On the edge of the offside line, Aguero had been waiting — patient, locked in.
He reacted instantly.
He dashed behind the line. Romeo's pass met him in stride.
"Aguero is through!"
Goalkeeper Bravo — alert but flawed — came off his line.
Aguero shaped to shoot left.
Bravo lunged.
But Aguero didn't shoot.
He dragged with his left, shot with his right.
Net.
1–0.
The crowd at Reeves Stadium erupted.
"Argentina scores! Four minutes and fifty-four seconds — the fastest goal in Copa América history!"
Carloni, the Argentine coach, screamed and hugged Aimar on the sideline.
Romeo turned and jogged calmly back toward midfield, his eyes steely.
This was no fluke.
It was a statement.
And it had only just begun.