Immediately, the players moved off the pitch. As Sabiti walked back toward the center circle, he paused and turned to the U13 stands. He waved, a humble gesture after the storm he had just unleashed.
The score was 2–0, and yet the feeling was clear: Sabiti hadn't scored a hat-trick, but he had already set the place on fire. The crowd pressed against the barriers, shouting their admiration, crying out "Thank you! Thank you!" to the one now being called The Maestro of Buyenzi.
Madi, with enthusiasm in his voice, exclaimed:
> "What a first half! Two goals, so many masterpieces, and even the missed chances were a joy to watch! If the second half is anything like this, we're witnessing history. Thank you, Sabiti… and thank you PvP FC, and Saint Augustin, for this footballing slap in the face!"
On the Saint Augustin bench, the coach rubbed his temples, resigned:
— We're going to have to rethink everything. Even last week's training looks more solid than what we just saw…
And while the players rested and caught their breath, the sun continued to blaze overhead—but the towering shadow of Sabiti's brilliance already loomed large over the pitch, promising a second half just as electric.
After the break, the players returned to the field, ready to begin the second half.
Frrruuuut!!!
The whistle marking the restart echoed through the POLO Stadium. The sun was now higher in the sky, and the heat had become another opponent. But none of the PvP FC players looked ready to slow down. As for Sabiti—he hadn't lost a single ounce of energy.
The 36th minute felt like a fresh start for PvP FC. Barely had the whistle for the second half blown when the ball was back in motion at the heart of the pitch. Sabiti, positioned as the creative playmaker, knelt briefly to read the trajectory of the ball launched by Dalaso. Then, with a controlled motion, he brushed it lightly with the outside of his foot, as if awakening it, and rolled it alongside him in a movement that seemed almost choreographed.
— Come on, Sabiti… murmured Khudhaïf behind him, voice full of excitement.
— Anything's possible now, replied Salou Keita, ready to cover the back line.
With a burst of energy, Sabiti took off. He surged toward the center, already at full speed. The first touch was decisive: a Messi-style quick dribble past the opposing defensive midfielder, who was flung aside as if ejected from the path. The crowd gasped in astonishment.
> "Magnificent!" exclaimed Madi, the commentator, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"The kid just levitated!"
Without pause, Sabiti followed up with a flawless roulette. The ball spun under his foot, slipping past the second defender who had rushed in to close the gap, and the turf seemed to tremble from the brilliance of those moves. A thunder of applause erupted in the stands, PvP supporters waving scarves and chanting in unison, "Ole! Ole! Ole!"
> "He looks like a ballet dancer…" gasped a woman behind the fence, eyes wide.
And the moment wasn't over. Sabiti rose, the ball glued to his foot, and with a calculated glance, spotted Papala sprinting in to intercept him. With perfect timing, the young prodigy performed a right-foot flick over, leaving Papala frozen in place, arms outstretched, caught in the act of sheer confusion. The stunned crowd fell silent for half a second—then burst back into a roaring frenzy.
— It's a technical massacre! shouted Madi.
— This kid… whispered a seasoned fan, …he's rewriting the laws of football.
In the midst of this storm, Sabiti stayed grounded. He slowed slightly, planted his foot, and focused on the final obstacle: Amadou, the central rock of Saint Augustin, standing like a stone sentinel in front of him. The young playmaker feinted to the left, faked a shot to draw Amadou forward, then, with a smooth inside-foot slide, pushed the ball to the right, freeing the angle.
His eyes followed the ball's path, calculating the pass. Khudhaïf was already darting toward the center, into the zone where it would all unfold.
— It's yours, Khudhaïf! called Sabiti, calm but firm.
Khudhaïf controlled the pass with the inside of his foot, slid slightly to keep the ball close, then powered up his shot. His foot struck the ball with force, sending a dull boom around the box. Kujo, the opposing keeper, dove, but too late. The shot was low, driven, and flew toward the far corner.
The ball smacked the net with an almost acoustic thrill.
> GOAL FOR PvP FC! 3–0! shouted the referee, raising his arm.
Instantly, the stadium exploded. Fans jumped to their feet, ran to the barriers, some pressing their faces against them to get as close to Sabiti as possible. Improvised chants broke out, glorifying the young playmaker's name.
— Viva Sabiti! echoed voices, as Dalaso and Amadou rushed over to congratulate him.
Khudhaïf, the hero of the moment, did a celebratory lap around the goal, raising his arm to the sky and flashing a knowing smile at Sabiti.
— Great job, bro!
— Thanks, but that was your shot!
— We made it happen together, man, replied Khudhaïf, grinning.
On Saint Augustin's side, the shock was visible. Papala sat on his heels, hands on his head, stunned. Amadou wiped sweat from his forehead, dazed at how easily the opponent had broken through. Rahim fumed, clenching his fists.
— How do we stop this guy?! he growled, voice trembling with frustration.
— We double-mark him, harass him… Ismael suggested, gasping for breath.
Kaijo, their keeper, removed his gloves for a moment and walked over to the post, visibly shaken:
— I swear I just saw a grown man out there… he muttered, unconvinced himself.
Meanwhile, on the sideline, Bayo, the U9 coach, clapped enthusiastically:
— Look at him, Ndikumana. That boy's going to win us even more matches!
— Shhh… Ndikumana cut in, his expression serious.
— We've got to get him ready for the U13s… Bayo continued.
The U13 coach placed a hand on his shoulder, finally letting a small smile form:
— We're working on it. But there's still a match to stay focused on.
Back at the center circle, Sabiti massaged his thigh, caught his breath, and glanced at the referee, as if asking if play would resume soon. The ref nodded and restarted the game.
> "That kid could be playing with the seniors already!" blurted a stunned spectator, unable to stay quiet.
— We should sign him up for boxing… or weightlifting… Salomon muttered to Chekinah.
— …or maybe a marathon! Chekinah shot back, amused by the idea.
The roar from the U13 stands had barely died down when a new surge was building on the side of Saint Augustin FC. The 37th minute was in full swing, and the team in red hadn't said its last word. Conceding a third goal had left a bitter taste: the defenders, still gasping for air, stood tall once more, determined to fight back.
Ismael, the left-back, was the first to launch the counterattack. Barely had Khudhaïf's strike slammed into the net when Dalaso, winning an aerial duel in midfield, sent the ball wide to Rahim on the right. Rahim received it with a single touch, back to goal, then spun instantly with a spider dribble—a move where the ball is swung around the standing leg before bursting forward—blowing past Salomon. He stormed down the flank, the ball glued to his foot, then lifted his head.
> "It's time to strike back!" shouted Madi.
Rahim whipped in a low, powerful cross. Papala, sprinting full throttle, pounced on it and unleashed a thunderous right-footed shot. The ball flew with insane speed, but Mossi threw himself in the way, stretched both arms, and deflected it with his hand. The ball clanged off the crossbar and dropped back down into Papala's feet… he attempted a flashy control, but this time Dalaso cleared the danger with a bicycle kick.
> "The bar saves PvP FC again!" Madi exclaimed, incredulous.
"This stadium's turning into a crossbar museum!"
On the counter, as Saint Augustin stumbled back, Sabiti was already charging forward. Taking advantage of the space left behind, he picked up Mossi's pass a few meters from the center circle. One glance scanned the field: the opponents were repositioning, caught off guard by the lightning-quick transition. Sabiti, eyes gleaming, bolted ahead.
In a flash, he launched into a butterfly dribble—lifting the ball slightly with his right foot before letting it flutter down like a wingbeat—confusing the first midfielder. He escaped a sliding challenge with a drag-back, then followed up with a reverse roulette to throw off the full-back. The crowd gasped; PvP fans leaned forward in their seats, barely breathing.
> "Just look at him… it's like watching a magician with a ball!" gasped a former player standing in the stands.
Sabiti sped up, broke through the line, and pulled a body feint on Amadou, who was forced to backpedal to protect his goal. At the edge of the box, Sabiti wound up for the shot. The ball curled, aiming for the far top corner. But unbelievably, it slammed against the crossbar, skimming the top of the goal with a metallic shiver.
— Nooooo! screamed Khudhaïf, both hands on his head.
— That crossbar… again! Madi shouted.
— We should call it The Iron Wall… muttered Dalaso, half amused, half frustrated.
The ball bounced just outside the box, loose. Sabiti sprang for the rebound, but Kujo intervened with a strong hand and punched it out for a corner. Saint Augustin sighed in relief, knowing they'd just narrowly dodged a hurricane.
Both teams reset for the corner. On the sideline, Ndikumana smiled, admiring the near-perfect mechanics of his playmaker. He murmured to Bayo, who had come to watch the match:
— You see what I was saying? He's already ready. But coming that close to a hat-trick… he's going to be hungry for more.
---
The corner was taken quickly to Salou Keita on the right. The ball came back to Sabiti, who insisted on taking the shot himself. He pivoted, let the ball roll a few centimeters to the left, and then swept it into the box with the inside of his foot. Three defenders leapt, but none touched the ball—it fell to Chekinah, who had pushed forward. Chekinah immediately backheeled it to Sabiti.
Sabiti found himself facing the goal, with no angle but full confidence. He planted his foot, executed a Cruyff turn to shake off tight marking, then chopped the ball with his right to shift left… the slightest hesitation drew everyone's eyes. He fired. Low, powerful, skimming the turf toward the far post. The ball crashed against the crossbar—a third time—with a crack that chilled the stands and players alike.
> "No! Not again!" groaned a fan, face in hands.
"It's impossible… three bars in ten minutes!"
"He's hitting them all! Every bar!" added Madi, laughing in disbelief.
The ball bounced out near the edge of the box and rolled out for a throw-in. Saint Augustin's defenders eased their pressure, stunned. Mossi raised his arms in relief, while Sabiti dropped to his knees, head down, disappointed by the tyranny of the metal.
> "GOA—no, wait… SAVE!" Madi corrected himself through a burst of laughter.
Khudhaïf ran to his teammate, lifted his face, and cracked a grin:
— So close… but shoutout to the crossbar!
— It's afraid of me… Sabiti replied, mock serious.
A wave of comments followed: — He'll beat the bar next time!
— He's practically on a first-name basis with it now.
— I think we should name it "Sabiti's Bar"...
On the bench, the substitutes buried their heads in their hands, torn between awe and frustration. Bayo tapped Ndikumana's thigh repeatedly:
— It's unreal… Three crossbars on his path!
— He has to score soon, or else… Ndikumana said with a smirk, …we'll be seeing his name carved into every bar in Burundi.
The referee let the moment settle, then signaled for play to resume. Both teams, gasping for breath, returned to their positions. Sabiti stepped back slowly, ready to strike again. The score was still 3–0, but the echo of those three shots against the bar now rang louder than the goal difference itself.
> "What a match!" Madi concluded, his voice vibrant. "Three of Sabiti's shots off the crossbar, two from Saint Augustin… Anything can happen now. And that kid, that kid… he's already playing in another dimension!"
As the game resumed, a wind of excitement swept across the stadium. Every dribble from Sabiti, every shot against the bar, every keeper save became part of a dazzling ballet—an extraordinary spectacle.
The second half had only just begun, but Sabiti had already been involved in PvP FC's third goal, further strengthening their lead. The eight-year-old prodigy—now crowned with a brace and an assist—continued his run, ready to write the next chapter of this historic day.
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