The morning was eerily silent.
For the past four days, Santi had woken up with uncertainty clawing at his chest.
Would today be the day he got noticed? Would he finally make the list? Would this tournament be the moment that changed his life?
But today, he wasn't questioning anything because he knew it was his moment and nothing could stop him from living it.
It was his last chance to prove himself. By nightfall, the scouts would have made their final picks. Some players would walk away with contracts.
Others would leave with nothing but the sting of what could have been.
Santi had fought too hard for his dreams to slip through his fingers now.
The weight of the moment settled on his shoulders but for the first time in his life, it didn't feel heavy. It felt like fuel.
The stadium was electric, the energy vibrating in the air. The crowd was bigger than it had been on any other day. The dignitaries, scouts and coaches weren't just watching.
They were waiting. Waiting for someone to step up. Waiting for someone to prove where they belonged. Waiting for a name to write down.
Santi was ready to give them one. His name.
Felipe stood on the sideline, watching him with that unreadable expression. For days, Santi had fought against the pressure. For days, he had searched for the moment that would make all of this worth it.
But Felipe saw it now. Santi wasn't searching anymore. Felipe smirked, stepping closer.
"This is it, kid," he said. "You ready?" Santi stretched his arms, exhaled, and nodded.
"I was born ready." Felipe grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Good," he said.
Then, in a low voice, he added. "Make them remember you." Santi clenched his jaw. "That's exactly what he planned to do."
The referee's whistle sliced through the air. And just like that, the final game had begun.
From the first pass, Santi knew that was his game. The ball moved to his feet and he made it dance. He played with a rhythm no one else had. Sharp, clean and precise.
The opposing team tried to press him but it didn't matter. A defender rushed toward him at full speed, hoping to take the ball but Santi didn't even flinch.
A quick step-over, then a sharp cut to the left. The defender lunged but the ball was already gone. Gasps from the crowd. The scouts leaned forward.
A long ball flew toward him, Santi didn't just control it. He stopped it dead with his chest, let it drop then flicked it over the onrushing defender in one perfect motion.
The defender turned too late. Santi was already gone. More gasps from the stands. The crowd was beginning to buzz. The scouts were nodding, taking notes. And Santi? He was just getting started.
Santi wasn't just playing well. He was controlling everything. He dropped deeper, demanding the ball. Turned defense into attack with a single pass. Every touch was clean. Every decision was sharp.
He was the heartbeat of the match. He saw everything before it happened. And then, his moment came.
The game became tight. Both teams were fighting with everything they had.
Then, Santi saw it. A gap. A moment. Joel made a run down the right wing.
Santi let the ball roll past him and then, with a perfect no-look pass, curved the ball behind the defenders.
Joel didn't even have to slow down. One touch. Then a rocket into the back of the net.
"GOOOOOAL!"
The stadium exploded. Joel turned, pointing straight at Santi. Everyone knew. That goal belonged to him. His assist gave their team the equalizer 1-1.
The game neared its final minutes. The score was tied. Tension thickened in the air. And then, it happened.
A cross floated into the box; high, spinning and dangerous. Defenders scrambled. But Santi didn't hesitate.
He launched himself into the air. For a second, time slowed. The world disappeared.
It was just him, the ball and the moment. He twisted his body mid-air, perfectly aligned then struck the ball with a powerful bicycle kick. The sound was pure.
The ball rocketed toward the goal, bending beautifully into the top corner. The net rippled.
The stadium erupted. And then, they chanted his name.
"CRUZ! CRUZ! CRUZ!"
It started with a few voices. Then dozens. Then hundreds. The entire stadium roaring his name.
Santi stood there, his chest rising and falling, taking in the sound.
For years, he had dreamed of that moment. Now, it was real.
When the game ended, Santi stood in the center of the field, his heart pounding. It was over.
The tournament was finished. But he still didn't know. Had he done enough?
Players gathered near the rankings board holding their breath. But today, it wasn't just about seeing their names.
Today was about who had been chosen.
The dignitaries sat at a long table near the field, calling out names and announcing which players had been selected by clubs and academies.
Santi stood near the back with his hands curled into fists.
Then, they called it.
"Santiago Cruz!"
Silence. Then, cheers! For a moment, he couldn't move.
His name. They had called out his name.
He stepped forward, his breath caught in his throat. A man in a nice tailored suit stood waiting and smiling.
"Congratulations!" he said, shaking Santi's hands. " You've been selected to join Club América's Youth Academy.
The noise in the stadium was deafening. The chants of his name.
"CRUZ! CRUZ! CRUZ!"
His name echoed through the stands, shaking the very ground beneath him.
But Santiago Cruz barely heard it. His heart was hammering in his chest. His mind was racing, trying to process what had just happened.
His name. They had called his name. He had done it.
After years of playing in the streets of San Isidro with oranges and deflated balls, after fighting through four grueling days of this tournament, after being ignored, doubted and nearly giving up, he was selected.
Not just by any club. By Club América. The biggest club in Mexico. The dream. And now? It was his reality. It wasn't a dream. It was happening.
The scout leaned in slightly.
"You put on a show today," he said. "We had our eyes on a few players, but you? You made sure we had no choice but to take you."
Santi's chest tightened. That was it. That was all he had ever wanted. Not to be given a chance. Not to be picked because of luck. But because he had earned it.
Before he could even process the news, another voice rang out.
"We're not done yet," one of the tournament officials announced. Santi turned, his heart still racing.
A second man stood up from the table, holding a gleaming golden trophy.
"The Best Player of the Tournament award goes to… Santiago Cruz!"
Santi's breath caught in his throat. For a moment, the stadium seemed to pause. Then, a tidal wave of cheers including his teammate Joel.
Felipe whistled loudly from the sideline, a wide grin on his face. Joel was the first to grab him, shaking him by the shoulders.
"Hermano, you did it!" Joel shouted, eyes wide with excitement.
Santi barely felt his feet as he stepped forward to accept the trophy. As he wrapped his fingers around the golden award, his arms shook.
He looked up at the stands. The scouts. The dignitaries. The roaring crowd.
That was his moment. And as he lifted the trophy high into the air, the chants returned. Louder. Stronger. Unstoppable.
"CRUZ! CRUZ! CRUZ!"
As the tournament wrapped up, Santi stood on the field, staring at the sky, his heart still pounding. That wasn't just his victory. That was for his family.
For his mother, who had believed in him even when no one else did. For his father, who would finally see that football wasn't a waste of time and that his son was meant for more.
For Felipe, who had pushed him, guided him and never let him give up.
For every kid in the streets of León and beyond who had ever juggled a ball in a dusty alley, dreaming of something bigger.
He had made it. But that? That was only the beginning.
As the crowd started to clear, Felipe walked up beside him, hands in his pockets and a proud smirk on his face.
"You know, kid," he said, glancing toward the trophy in Santi's hands, "I always knew this would happen."
Santi laughed breathlessly. "You did?"
Felipe shrugged. "Not gonna lie, I thought you might mess it up a few times." Santi shook his head, grinning.
"But you didn't," Felipe continued, his voice lower now and more serious. "You took your chance. And now? You're about to step into a whole new world."
Santi swallowed hard.
Club América's youth academy; The best training. The best facilities. And the hardest competition he had ever faced.
Felipe studied him.
"You ready?" he asked simply. Santi nodded. Because for the first time in his life, he truly believed it.
As the sun began to set over León, Santi left the stadium not just as another player. Not just as another name on a list. But as a future star.
Because he wasn't just Santiago Cruz from San Isidro anymore. He was Santiago Cruz; Club América's newest talent.
And the world? They were just starting to learn his name.