The Ghost of Portugal

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Chapter 23 – The Invisible Playmaker

Lisbon smelled different in January.

Fewer pine trees, more exhaust fumes. João tugged his hoodie tighter as he stepped off the train at Entrecampos, his duffel bag bouncing against his hip. His dad had slipped him an extra 20 euros before he left Viseu.

"Just in case you need to bribe a coach," Carlos had joked.

João smirked at the thought now. If bribery worked, I'd already be starting.

The Sporting academy van picked him up as usual. Tiago, his roommate and teammate, was already inside, fiddling with his phone.

"Welcome back, maestro," Tiago said without looking up. "Enjoy your Christmas?"

"Too much food. I'm playing the second half of the season ten kilos heavier."

"Perfect. They'll move you to centre-back."

João chuckled, then dropped into the seat beside him. But under the jokes, a knot twisted in his stomach. New year. New pressure. Same fight.

At Academia Sporting, the grass was wet from last night's rain. The January cold bit sharper in Alcochete than it did back home, but João didn't mind. Cold meant you had to move. Fast feet, fast brain—that's where he lived.

Inside the locker room, Coach Rui pinned a whiteboard to the wall.

"New system this month," Rui said, clicking his marker. "We're building from the back. Two pivots, one playmaker. But—" He held up a finger. "—the playmaker does not, I repeat, does not make final passes without clearance."

João's stomach sank.

"But coach," Tiago whispered beside him, "what's the point of a playmaker who can't make plays?"

"Simple," João whispered back. "He's a play-hider."

Tiago snorted, and the two of them pretended to cough into their shirts.

Coach Rui gave them the side-eye, but kept talking.

"The playmaker's job is to control tempo. Circulate possession. Keep it safe. If you force it, you sit."

João's chest tightened. He knew exactly who that message was for.

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On the pitch, the rondos started sharply. João's touch was crisp, the ball glued to his foot like he'd never left. But his brain? His brain wanted to explode.

He saw angles that weren't supposed to be there yet. He saw runners before they ran.

And he saw the pass.

Second half of the scrimmage. Tiago peeled off the back shoulder of the right-back, sprinting into a blind channel. João trapped the ball, hips squared, eyes on the holding midfielder.

Play it safe?

Nope.

With one flick of his ankle, João sent a no-look diagonal pass, slicing the whole defense in half.

The ball landed at Tiago's feet, just like João knew it would.

Goal.

Boom.

Coach Rui blew his whistle so hard João thought the veins in his neck might pop.

"Félix!"

Here we go.

João jogged over, wiping his nose with his sleeve. His heart was hammering, but his face stayed cool.

"Yes, Mister?"

"You know what we talked about."

"I do."

"And?"

João shrugged, half-smiling. "I disobeyed."

Rui stared at him, eyes narrowed. For a second, João thought he was done. Benched. Sent to sit out the rest of the training.

But then something weird happened.

The coach's mouth twitched. Just barely. Like he was trying not to laugh.

"Get back in," Rui said sharply. "Next time, try to make it look like an accident."

João jogged back, a grin spreading before he could stop it.

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That night in the dorm, Tiago tossed a pillow at João's head.

"You're a madman."

João caught it, leaning back on his bed.

"I'm not mad," he said. "I'm just tired of being invisible."

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