SWNOVELXO Chapter 34: National Colors
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Chapter 34 – National Colors
February 17, 2015
The black van waited outside Sporting's Alcochete Academy gates, engine running, windows tinted.
João Félix stood by the curb, bag slung over his shoulder, tapping his foot.
"Did you bring your shin pads?" Miguel Luís asked, adjusting his backpack.
João smirked. "What do you think this is, a beach trip?"
Rafa Leão threw his arm around João's shoulder. "Bro, relax. We're just meeting the squad. No one's tackling you in the parking lot."
"Yet," Miguel added.
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The van door slid open with a soft hiss.
Inside, Leandro Tipote was already buckled up, earphones in, staring out the window like a pro footballer ten years older than everyone else.
"Leandro, you gonna say hi or are you writing rap lyrics in your head?" Rafa joked as he climbed in.
Leandro barely glanced up. "Saving my energy."
"Must be exhausting being that serious," João whispered, sliding into the backseat.
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Their personal U16 driver, a guy named Bruno with sunglasses too big for his face, started the engine.
"All good? Let's go, champions," Bruno said, pulling into traffic like he was driving a Ferrari, not a van.
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As they rolled through Lisbon, João's stomach tightened.
This wasn't a club call-up. This was Portugal. The national team.
No more familiar locker rooms. No coaches knew his habits. No extra time to warm into it.
This was walking into a room full of the best kids in the country—and trying not to look like the weak link.
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The van stopped outside Estádio Nacional do Jamor, the iconic stadium in Lisbon where Portugal's youth teams often gathered before camps.
João's phone buzzed.
Dad:
Be humble. Be hungry.
João locked the screen without replying.
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Inside the lobby, the room was buzzing with voices, laughter, and the low thud of players tapping balls off walls while they waited.
João scanned the faces.
Some were familiar from tournaments. Others were total strangers.
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Diogo Costa, tall for his age and already with the posture of a goalkeeper who thought two steps ahead, stood near the entrance with his gloves tucked under his arm.
Number 1 on his tracksuit.
Next to him, Diogo Dalot, a Porto defender, leaned against a wall, scrolling his phone, number 2 stitched into his jacket.
Dalot glanced up, nodded at João.
"Sporting, right?" Dalot asked.
"Yeah," João said.
"Cool. Try not to nutmeg me in training," Dalot said, cracking a grin.
João laughed nervously. "No promises."
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Coach Filipe Ramos stepped into the room, whistle dangling from his neck.
"Alright, quiet down, boys," Filipe said, his voice cutting through the noise. "Phones away. Bags in the corner."
The room fell silent fast.
"Welcome to the Portugal U16s," Filipe continued. "If you're here, it's because someone saw something special in you. Now it's up to you to prove them right."
João swallowed, feeling his chest tighten again.
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The squad began introductions.
Diogo Costa joked that he'd already saved two penalties this month—"but who's counting?"
Dalot flashed his usual smile. "Porto defense is closed for business, boys."
When it was João's turn, he cleared his throat. "João Félix. Sporting. Attacking midfielder."
Leandro muttered behind him. "Just don't start with the magic tricks."
João shot him a sideways smirk. "Relax, Leandro. I'm not pulling rabbits out of my socks."
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The group laughed, the tension cracking just enough to breathe.
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Later, as they filed into the locker room, Rafa nudged João.
"Feels different, huh?"
João nodded. "Yeah. Bigger."
Miguel Luís whispered, "Better get used to it."
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As João laced up his boots, he stared at the Portugal crest stitched onto his training kit.
This was it.
Not Sporting. Not Sequeira's kid. Not the skinny kid from Viseu.
This was Portugal now.
And João Félix had just stepped onto a new field.
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