Chapter 7 – Streets Inside the Lines
The rain came down soft and steady that morning—just enough to slick the pitch and paint the city grey.
Thiago stood under the shelter outside the academy dorms, lacing his boots with care. He pulled the knot tight, then gave each boot a quick tap against the concrete wall—left, then right—like a ritual.
The air smelled like cut grass and damp clay. Far across the field, cones were already being laid down in sharp, geometric patterns.
Today’s training was being run by someone else.
Moreira was away on academy business. In his place stood a man they hadn’t seen before—a tall, lean figure in a navy tracksuit, pacing the touchline with one hand behind his back and the other gripping a whistle.
"Coach Silveira," someone whispered nearby. "From the main squad."
Thiago looked up.
Silveira moved like he didn’t need to explain himself. No shouting. No wasted words. His presence commanded attention before he even opened his mouth.
"Today," Silveira said calmly, once they were all gathered at midfield, "we shift gears."
He looked around slowly, eyes resting on each player like he was flipping through files in his mind.
"You’ve been drilled well. Clean systems. Tactical spacing. Efficient transitions."