The ball barely touched the net before Ajax responded.
From the kickoff, they surged forward like a wounded beast —sharper, faster, angrier.
The Bayern players barely had time to settle.
Dani van der Meulen, Ajax's midfield general, barked quick orders, and the tempo exploded again.
Ajax pressed so aggressively that Bayern could barely string three passes together.
The pressure was suffocating.
Mateo felt it immediately:
Every touch contested.
Every pass rushed.
Every mistake punished.
And yet —this time,he didn't panic.
Where once he might have rushed a pass or hesitated,now he kept it simple.
One touch.Two touches.Move.
Receive again.Shield the ball.Find a teammate.
Small victories.Little breaths of control amid the chaos.
Coach Dietrich shouted from the sidelines:
"Calm! Play simple! Trust each other!"
Mateo absorbed the words.
He knew that Ajax wanted Bayern to crack.They wanted impatience.Panic.
But Mateo wasn't the same boy he had been months ago.
He had fought through loneliness.
He had endured pain.
He had risen through setbacks.
He wasn't going to break now.
At one moment, an Ajax midfielder lunged toward him, trying to intercept.
Instead of forcing a pass, Mateo turned sharply, using his body to shield the ball and draw a foul.
The Bayern bench applauded.
Small, smart plays —they mattered too.
As the clock ticked forward, Bayern began to settle.
They slowed the frantic pace.Forced Ajax to chase shadows.
Every successful pass chain,every clever switch of play,drained a little more urgency from their opponents.
Mateo was at the heart of it.
Moving.Thinking.Building.
No flashy tricks.
Just smart, disciplined football.
Professional football.
Meanwhile, back in Germany, Klara sat cross-legged on her bed, watching the live broadcast on her tablet.
Her green eyes shone with admiration.
"Look at you," she whispered to herself.
"You're becoming a real maestro out there."
In another part of Munich, Helena — Mateo's mother — sat with Mateo's grandparents in the living room, glued to the television.
Her hands clasped together, her heart pounding harder with every minute.
"Mi niño," she murmured proudly."You're doing it... you're really doing it."
When the referee finally blew the whistle for halftime, the score was still 1–0 for Bayern.
Mateo jogged off the field, breathing hard, drenched in sweat — but smiling.
Because he knew:
He belonged here.
He could stand among the best.
And he wasn't done proving it yet.
Not by a long shot.