The tunnel was dimly lit, but Santiago Cruz walked like a boy stepping into the light. His head was low, sweat running down his temple and shirt clinging to his back. But in his hand was something small, something important. A faded red ribbon, no longer than a shoelace.
He rubbed it between his fingers. "Tavo gave me this the day I left San Idriso. He said it would bring me luck. But it's more than that."
He closed his eyes, whispering. "I'll win this match. For the club. For my family. For me." He believed his parents were somewhere watching.
The tunnel lit up ahead. Shouts echoed from the stands, a roaring sea of sound. Solano walked up beside him, his voice low but sharp. "We need unity. Let's end this. Let's go." Santi nodded. Ahead of them, the referee lifted his arm. It was time.
As they stepped out onto the pitch, the atmosphere cracked like lightning. The turf shook as blue and yellow flags waved violently on one side while red and white bled on the other. Scouts leaned forward in their seats. Coaches watched. Even Santos FC had their eyes glued to the match.
Felipe bit his nails as Herrera stared like a hawk. Coach Martínez of Chivas was already giving hand signals.
The players took their positions. América in their yellow kits and Chivas in their classic red and white. The scoreboard showed 2-1 in favor of Chivas. But something had shifted because Santi was ready.
"Vamos, Cruz," Solano muttered beside him, tightening the captain's armband on his arm. "Unity. That's how we win this."
Santi gave a short nod. "Let's end it our way."
The referee blew the whistle.
Chivas took the first touch. They tried to start sharp, passing around the middle with quick one-twos between Emiliano and Nico. América's press was high as Solano gave a glance toward Santi. Santi gave Toro a subtle wave.
46'
Nico received a pass down the right channel. He cut inside, trying to size up Ricky again like he had in the first half. But this time, Ricky didn't fall for it. He held his stance, then snapped a foot forward and stole the ball cleanly, knocking it off Nico's shin for a throw-in. He clapped hands with Toro as if to say, We're not breaking again.
Throw-in for Chivas; Emiliano took it quickly. Tried to run up the middle but Solano was on him like glue. With a clean, surgical tackle, he stripped the ball and sprinted. The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Vamos Solano!"
47' With one look, Solano sent a sharp pass down the center to Santi, who was already scanning the pitch like a maestro. He received on the half-turn, he didn't hesitate. With the first touch, he nutmegged the approaching player and sent the defender spinning. The crowd gasped.
Away from one. Away from another. He spotted Charlie peeling away on the left wing and pinged a long diagonal pass that sliced through the air like a blade. Charlie spun off the shoulder of his marker and caught the ball perfectly in stride.
He spun away from his marker, then chipped a cross to Valdez, a free header! But again… Valdez missed. His header lacked direction, it went straight into the keeper's hands.
The goalkeeper caught it. Groans echoed. Valdez bent over with hands on his knees. The scouts shook their heads.
50' A minute later, Santi went down under a heavy challenge. The ref didn't hesitate for a yellow card. He rolled twice but popped back up.
América kept the ball in possession. They kept the ball moving with one-touch passes like a rhythm, a symphony conducted by Santi and Solano. Diego tried from range after a short give-and-go with Santi, but the shot curled just wide.
Herrera barked from the sideline. "Make them chase!"
54' – Substitution
Herrera made a call.
#3 Ricky Mendoza and #9 Valdez came off. In their place came two fresh legs:
#15 Bruno Morales – a stocky, fast defender with a powerful left foot.
#17 Mateo Jiménez – a speedy striker known for headers and poacher instincts.
The changes energized the bench.
As they slotted in, Chivas regained control.
55' Chivas had control again. Emiliano picked the ball and surged forward, showing intent. He fed it to Nico. The winger dropped a shoulder, beating Mateo with a clever feint. He was in the box now as the crowd rose with him.
Toro stepped up as Nico tried to skip by. He didn't move, he simply angled his body to absorb the contact but Nico went flying.
The referee blew the whistle for a penalty.
"A penalty in favor of Chivas. They could extend the lead!"
The crowd erupted in noise. A yellow card was given to Toro.
Santi threw his arms out. "Come on! That's not a penalty!"
Toro stood with arms wide open, he was furious. "No foul. I got the ball!"
Solano ran to the ref. "He got the ball!"
There were protests from the América side but the decision was already made by the referee.
Felipe buried his head in his hands.
57' Diego González picked up the ball and placed it down. He had already scored two. Looking for a hat trick.
He stared at Alejandro Ramirez like a sniper lining up a shit. Alejandro stood tall. He had saved a penalty in the quarterfinals. Could he do it again?
The whistle blew. Diego stuttered in his run up, then struck the ball low and hard to the left.
Alejandro guessed and exploded sideways with his fist out. He punched it away.
"He does it again, the ball is saved by Ramírez!"
The rebound fell right to Diego's feet but before he could tap it in, Toro slid in and cleared it into orbit. And just like that…Counterattack. The crowd erupted.
58' Diego Silva received it. Passed quickly to Santi. With a flick, he popped the ball over Emiliano's head. The crowd lost their minds.
Ochoa was waiting. He delayed, letting Santi surge ahead and then chipped it over the defense. Santi controlled on the right.
He stepped over once, twice, rolled the ball back then with a Maradona turn, he rolled past two defenders! But before he could pass to Charlie, BOOM! He was taken out with a crunching tackle.
The referee blew the whistle again, this time a penalty in favor of América. The América players were furious as Toro pushed the Chivas defender away. Ríos stepped in to separate them. Emiliano argued.
Meanwhile, Ochoa walked to Santi and helped him up, then he turned to Ochoa.
"Score and let's make it a hat-trick together."
Everyone expected Santi to take it. But he held the ball and threw it at Ochoa humbly. Ochoa smiled.
Ochoa stepped up and placed the ball on the ground. Looked up. Then, in front of everyone… He struck it without even glancing, the ball went straight into the bottom corner. The keeper dove the wrong way.
"GOOOOOOAL!"
2-2!
The crowd went nuts.
The Commentator screamed:
"A NO-LOOK PENALTY! That's outrageous! That's… ICE-COLD."
The América went wild as the Chivas players looked stunned.
Ochoa ran to Santi with arms wide. They hugged like brothers.
"That's two, one more to make it a hat-trick." Santi whispered
The comeback was real.
In the stands, the energy shifted. Scouts exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves. Coaches from other academies scribbled notes. Even players from Santos FC, América's future opponents were now watching more intently. But Chivas wasn't broken yet.
60' Chivas responded. They restarted immediately. Nico was fed a through ball by Emiliano. The forward cut in from the left, tried to open up space but Mateo, just coming off the bench stood tall and poked the ball away. A clearance to midfield.
62'
Another attack. Diego launched a curling shot from outside the box but Ramírez dove to his right and got his gloves on it. He sprung back up, roaring to his defenders.
"Focus!"
Chivas looked frustrated now. Their passes became riskier. Their touches heavier.
65'
Lucho sprinted up the right like a locomotive. He controlled and switched pass Ríos, then flicked the ball past his marker, catching Santi's eye near the midfield.
Santi took the pass, turned and took off. He danced gliding across the field like it was his stage. First a fake left, then a quick cut inside. He rolled his foot over the ball and skipped around another defender. Near the sideline, corner flag in sight, a defender lunged but Santi paused, pulled back and then dragged the ball with the sole of his boot.
Santi looked up and picked out Charlie making a diagonal run. He whipped in a left-footed cross to Charlie who leaned into the volley with perfect technique. But no. Over. Way over. Into the heavens. The ball bounced off the empty seats.
Charlie dropped his hands to his head. "No, I missed!" he called.
Santi just nodded. "We go again."
But the scouts? They were already talking. Santi's name was being written down again and again.
71' Chivas tried to respond. They went back to their strengths with quick and sharp passes. Emiliano took control, threading it through to Nico. He went at Ríos, feinted inside, then cut back out—Toro stepped forward but Nico spun away.
He slid the ball to Diego, who found himself one-on-one with Ramírez. The crowd froze. But Ramírez stood his ground, he didn't dive early. He waited. At the last moment, he dropped low, sticking out his legs to block the ball!
The rebound bounced free on Santi who sprinted back, clearing the ball out of danger.
Commentary: "What a stop by Ramírez! This boy's having the game of his life!"
75' Emiliano whipped in a corner for Chivas. Nico timed his run perfectly and met the ball with his forehead but Toro, fearless as ever, rose higher and headed it away with force. Santi was panting now. Sweat poured down his face. The pace was relentless.
He jogged to his position, clenching his fists. Toro walked over, bumping chests with Ríos. "Let's end them," Toro said.
"Now."
The corner was cleared by Lucho, and suddenly América had the ball again.
Santi took it near the sideline. A flick, a roll and a step-over, then he baited the defender forward, then spun away and drove forward. He glanced up. Charlie was free on the left. A trivela pass to Charlie. Curved, measured and brilliant.
The ball landed perfectly in front of Charlie, who barely had to adjust his stride.
Ochoa timed his run into the box like a veteran striker. Charlie didn't hesitate, a one-touch pass into the path of Ochoa who met it with a volley.
"GOOOOOOOAL!"
América 3 - 2 Chivas. A hat-trick for Ochoa. Herrera turned and grabbed Felipe by the shoulders. "Did you see that? That's training ground magic!"
The crowd was delirious. Even Chivas fans stood in disbelief. The comeback had turned into a takeover. Ochoa ran straight to the corner flag, slid on his knees, and pointed again at Santi. "This is OUR game!"
Commentary: "That's seven goals for Ochoa in this tournament and that assist? That was world-class from Santiago Cruz."
Chivas tried to respond, but América had the scent of blood. Ríos intercepted a dangerous through ball. Solano was barking orders now, commanding the midfield like a general.
Nico got in the box again, and tried a quick strike but Ramírez was there again, diving to block. No way through.
Toro turned to the stands with arms raised, hyping up the crowd.
"Vamos América!"
83' America took to possession, Lucho received a switch from Solano, quickly found Santi in the middle.
Santi took a deep breath. He was tired. His legs were heavy. But his mind? Still sharp. He passed to Ochoa, who dragged defenders with him, then returned the ball to Santi who had made his way to the front.
Santi, now facing the goal, let the ball run across his body. A defender lunged but he dragged him like a puppet with the Neymar roll-over.
Now he was one-on-one with the keeper. Instead of shooting, he passed to Charlie on the left. Charlie saw the keeper out of position and lifted it gently. A chip into the net.
"GOOOOOOAL!" América 4 - 2 Chivas.
The pitch exploded as Santi collapsed to his knees with arms in the air. Charlie ran over, hugged him.
"You're not from this planet, hermano," he said, breathless.
Santi laughed. "Just from San Isidro."
Chivas looked stunned, they were shell-shocked. Their movements lost rhythm. Their shoulders slumped. Meanwhile, América? They were electric. Every pass, every tackle and every cheer from the fans fed into their fire.
86' Ramírez launched a long goal kick, aimed directly at Ochoa. He let it bounce once and performed a cheeky step-over, fooling his marker. With one touch, he chipped it gently toward Santi who was sprinting down the middle.
The ball floated with a perfect trajectory. But just as Santi was about to control it, a Chivas defender clattered into him from behind. He went down hard.
The whistle blew, a foul. A yellow card to the player, Chivas' third of the half. Players swarmed. Toro was immediately in the referee's face with arms flailing. Again!? That was dirty!
Ríos held Toro back, whispering something in his ear to keep him calm. Santi sat up slowly, wiping the sweat and grass from his brow.
The foul was called just outside the penalty box, 25 yards out. Perfect free-kick range.
He got up, ready to take it. He stepped forward with no pressure. The crowd buzzed, some were nervous and others expectant.
Santi placed the ball on the grass, carefully adjusting it so the valve pointed toward the post. He looked at the wall, at the keeper, and finally… at the heavens.
His hand touched the ribbon Tavo had given him, tied tightly to his wrist.
"This is for you," he whispered.
"For my family. For San Isidro."
He took four slow steps back. The silence was deafening. He ran up and BOOM!
The ball bent like it had a life of its own, curling with wicked precision around the wall. Into the top corner.
"GOOOOOOAL!" 5-2.
The net nearly tore. The keeper didn't even dive just turned to watch.
Commentator (in disbelief): "That's not a freekick. That's a work of art. That's Santiago Cruz, the boy with passion for the game and that's his second goal in the tournament! With 7 assists, he's a genius!"
Santi didn't run. He just stood still, head tilted up, pointing toward the sky. Then the rush of teammates came, Ochoa lifted him, Charlie was laughing like a madman and Toro ruffled his hair. Even Felipe wiped his eyes behind his glasses.
Herrera shook his head in disbelief. "That boy is special."
Scouts were all standing now clapping. Cameras zoomed in and phones were out. His name had just become one to remember.
Chivas? They were broken, shattered with no hope. Maybe a miracle?
Their coach, Martinez, didn't even wait. He turned, furious and walked down the tunnel before stoppage time.
On the pitch, Chivas players were slumped. Kicking air. Hands on hips. Some sat down, Emiliano threw his hands up.
Commentator: "You don't see this every day. This is one for the academy archives. América 5, Chivas 2."
90th Minute + 2 minutes added.
Emiliano tried one last desperate attempt as he fired from a long distance. But Ríos solid as always rose and headed it away like a wall.
And then… Final whistle. It was over.
Full-time: Club América 5 - 2 Chivas.
The roar from the stands could be felt in your bones. Santi dropped to his knees. Hands covering his face. It wasn't just victory. It was validation. He did it.
They carried him literally. Ochoa, Toro, Ríos, Charlie, they hoisted him up and threw him into the air. One. Two. Three. Times. He laughed, looking around, he was overwhelmed. Then he saw Herrera, walking onto the pitch with Felipe.
Herrera grabbed him by the shoulders, smiling.
"You're a leader. A true Cruz."
Felipe hugged him tight, whispering: "They're proud of you. Wherever they're watching from." Santi just nodded, eyes shimmering.
Moments later, an announcer stepped onto the field holding a microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your MVP… for the second time in the tournament … SANTIAGO CRUZ!" The crowd erupted again.
He stepped forward, accepted the medal and lifted it up. Still smiling, knew his family were watching. Somewhere. The rest of the team ran over to celebrate. Some players found their parents in the crowd, tears, laughter and pride everywhere.
The announcer then made it official: "Our final will be: Club América… versus Santos FC!"
The boys shouted in excitement. Charlie pointed at Santi. "Finals, baby! Let's go make history!"
As they walked back toward the tunnel, arm-in-arm, Toro whispered: "We didn't just win, bro, we made a statement!"
Santi looked at the sky one last time before disappearing down the tunnel.
Whispering: "One more to go."