Chapter 21: I Never Saw the Old Ronaldo, but I saw the Old Ken
Sprinting forward with the ball at his feet, Ken quickly noticed Corinthians fullback Santos rushing in from the right. Instead of slowing down, he tapped the ball lightly with the inside of his right foot and cut sharply toward the center, aiming for the half-space just outside the penalty area.
Gil, the central defender, immediately stepped forward to close the angle, forming a tight double team together with Santos.
"Double team!" shouted streamer Liam in the livestream room. "Pass it quickly!"
But pass to whom?
Fabiano ahead was tightly marked by André, leaving almost no passing lane. The midfield support was still several meters behind. In that brief instant, Ken understood that he had only two choices—force a dribble, or create something entirely unexpected.
Then suddenly, Ken swung his left leg back as if preparing for a powerful long-range shot.
Santos reacted instantly, committing his body to a sliding tackle, hoping to block the strike before it even began. Many defenders relied on instinct at such moments, and Santos was no exception. From his angle, he was certain Ken would either shoot or hesitate—and either outcome would favor the defense.
But what happened next stunned everyone.
The left leg that had been raised high did not strike the ball with force. Instead, Ken's ankle softened at the last moment, gently lifting the ball upward with a delicate flick.
The ball rose just high enough to clear Santos's sliding body.
At the same time, Ken pushed explosively off the ground with his right foot, his entire body rising with the ball in one fluid motion. In one breathtaking instant, he leapt over the defender, clearing the sliding challenge while keeping his eyes locked on the descending ball.
Liam jumped from his chair.
"Are you kidding me? A human highlight reel?!"
Because the movement was so sudden, his knee slammed into the desk, but he didn't even notice.
Ken's control over the flick had been nearly perfect. As his body landed, the ball dropped neatly in front of his right side, bouncing once at the exact height he needed.
Bang!
Without hesitation, he swung his right leg through the ball in a clean, full-power volley.
The strike exploded like a cannon shot, screaming toward the near corner of the goal. The speed, angle, and sheer power left goalkeeper Cássio frozen for a split second—far too long at this level.
The ball smashed into the net.
For two seconds, Morumbi Stadium fell into stunned silence, as if the entire crowd needed time to process what they had just witnessed.
Then the stadium erupted.
A tidal wave of sound surged from the stands—cheers, screams, drums, chants—all crashing together into a thunderous roar.
On the livestream, Liam held his head in disbelief.
"What just happened?! One second he was double-teamed, and the next—goal! What level is this kid playing at?"
The chat exploded.
[That was insane!]
[I swear that looked like something from a video game replay.]
[I've never seen the 17-year-old Ronaldo, but today I saw the 17-year-old Ken!]
For casual viewers, it was simply a spectacular goal. For football veterans and scouts watching from the stands, the movement revealed something deeper—elite balance, reaction speed, body coordination, and decision-making under pressure. These were qualities that could not be taught easily.
---
On the pitch, Ken himself looked almost surprised. The entire sequence had happened instinctively. He had not planned the flick, the leap, or even the volley in advance—his body had simply reacted faster than conscious thought.
When the ball hit the net, realization struck him only half a second later.
I scored.
Fabiano sprinted toward him first, wrapping him in a tight embrace.
"Well done, Ken!"
Soon, teammates surrounded him—some patting his back, others ruffling his hair. Under the stadium lights, his youthful smile contrasted sharply with the fierce attacking warrior who had just sliced through the defense moments earlier.
In several corners of the stadium, observers wearing neutral expressions quietly took notes. Scouts from European clubs had been paying increasing attention to young South American talents, and tonight's derby had drawn more than a few of them.
---
Corinthians, however, were not a team that collapsed easily. Conceding early only fueled their determination. Over the next twenty minutes, they launched wave after wave of attacks.
In the 21st minute, a corner kick nearly resulted in an equalizer. Gil rose above the defense and hammered a header that crashed against the crossbar, sending a ripple of tension through São Paulo supporters.
In the 35th minute, Romarinho broke down the flank and delivered a low cross into the box. Midfielder Ralf arrived late and unleashed a powerful shot that skimmed just wide of the post.
The pressure intensified, forcing São Paulo's midfield to retreat deeper and deeper. Ken found himself increasingly isolated up front, rarely receiving the ball as the team focused on defensive stability.
On the livestream, Liam analyzed the situation:
"São Paulo's midfield is disconnected right now. Ken hasn't touched the ball much since that goal. They need someone linking midfield and attack."
Almost as if hearing the criticism, Coach Ramalho called Ken to the sideline during a brief stoppage and gave quick tactical instructions.
When play resumed, fans noticed a subtle but important adjustment. Ken began dropping deeper, positioning himself behind Fabiano, functioning as a central connector between midfield and attack—almost a false nine role.
The effect was immediate.
In the 41st minute, Denílson passed the ball forward, and Ken received it near midfield. Turning quickly, he accelerated past one defender, then slipped between two more before reaching the edge of the penalty arc, where Gil finally dragged him down.
Free kick. Dangerous position.
The crowd rose to its feet.
"See that?" Liam exclaimed. "As soon as Ken dropped back, the attack came alive again!"
From the backfield, veteran captain Rogério Ceni shouted loudly:
"Ken! Take it!"
Denílson rolled the ball into Ken's hands and gave his shoulder an encouraging pat.
"The captain wants you to try. After all that training, now's the time."
Ken swallowed quietly. He had practiced free kicks countless times with Ceni, but this was different. This was a derby match, in front of tens of thousands of fans, with defenders staring at him and the opposing goalkeeper carefully arranging the wall.
He placed the ball carefully on the grass and adjusted its position so the valve faced upward—a small habit he had developed during training.
Four steps back. Slight angle. Focus on the strike.
Ceni's instructions echoed in his mind.
Ken inhaled slowly, letting the noise of the stadium fade into the background. At this moment, the entire arena seemed to shrink until only three things existed: the ball, the goal, and the path between them.
The referee stepped backward and raised the whistle.
Ken lifted his head, eyes steady, waiting for the signal.