บท 10: I hope you are proud
Ajax secured a 1-0 win against AS Monaco, largely thanks to Mbappé losing his cool and receiving a red card just 14 minutes into the game. This made things much easier for De Ligt and the rest of the Ajax youth team.
Ajax already knew who their next opponents would be, as their assistant coach had attended the Bayern match and reported the result.
Soon, they drove to the Ullevi Stadium, packed with a staggering 43,000 spectators—completely sold out. The Ajax players were awestruck by the atmosphere. Some were visibly shaken by the massive crowd, while others, having played in front of smaller audiences earlier in the tournament, handled it slightly better. Nevertheless, everyone felt the nerves.
This would also be their first match broadcast on television, albeit only on a few channels in select countries. Though it wasn't a major broadcast, it still meant some people were watching.
As they prepared, Ajax caught sight of their upcoming opponent: Bayern's U13 team, led by the 10-year-old wonderkid, Maximus Orion. His name was already known by almost everyone involved in or watching the tournament. People compared him to legends like Pelé and Beckenbauer, though no one took it too seriously. After all, countless young talents are compared to Messi and Ronaldo.
Mbappé had been compared to Henry and Messi too, and Ajax had still beaten him.
But soon, Ajax's players were stunned once more—they spotted one of football's greatest legends, both as a player and a coach, speaking with the Bayern team. He seemed to be giving special attention to Maximus.
The Ajax coach quickly refocused his team and gave them their tactical instructions.
The game began. Many expected a clash of extremes—Ajax's sturdy defense, represented by Mathijs De Ligt, versus Bayern's explosive offense, led by Maximus Orion. The question was: who would shine brighter?
Bayern's striker kicked off and passed to a midfielder, who immediately sought out Maxi, already surging forward. Though the pass was a bit sloppy, Maxi controlled the ball beautifully with his chest, his back to Ajax's defensive midfielder, who was closing in fast.
Without letting the ball touch the ground, Maxi executed a sombrero flick, lobbing it over the defender. He immediately turned on the afterburners, catching up to the ball as it dropped back down.
Time seemed to slow for Maxi. He saw three defenders rushing toward him, including De Ligt. But despite the pressure, he was calm—just as he had been in previous matches, though now the stakes were even higher.
The ball bounced off the grass, and in that split-second, Maxi struck it with a perfect volley. The ball rocketed toward the goal, smashing off the crossbar and into the net. The goalkeeper had no chance.
A collective gasp echoed through the stadium as the ball struck the crossbar and rippled into the net. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The spectators were awash in disbelief, their faces illuminated with awe. Cheers erupted, a wave of sound that swept over Maxi like a warm embrace. This wasn't just a goal; it was a moment etched in their memories, a glimpse of beauty in the chaos of competition.
It was one of the most beautiful goals of the tournament so far—elegant, powerful, and precise. Everything about it screamed perfection.
But in the next instant, the crowd erupted in celebration. They weren't there just to support their favorite team; they were there to witness young talent, and this young man had just delivered a masterpiece.
With a heart pounding in his chest, Maxi pointed his finger towards the south, whispering a silent prayer. He kissed the air, feeling a connection to his father. As he jogged back, the cheers of the crowd filled his ears, but it was his father's approval he sought.
"I hope you're watching, Dad", he thought, "I hope you're proud"
Maxi's father had moved to Germany after failing to make it as a professional footballer in Brazil. Maxi once overheard his father mention—when drunk—that he was an illegitimate child of a Spanish woman and Maxi's grandfather. His father had never known his mother and had always dreamed of his son becoming a great footballer. This was all Maxi knew about his father's side of the family; his father never said more and always seemed distant when Brazil or family were mentioned.
Now, Maxi had the chance to achieve what his father never could, and he wanted his father to see him succeed.
Before the game, Franz Beckenbauer had announced that he would personally coach Maxi if he performed well under pressure. Beckenbauer was already leaning towards taking him under his wing, but he wanted to see how Maxi handled the stress of a big game.
After witnessing that goal, Beckenbauer was convinced. He saw in Maxi the same ability he had once possessed—the higher the pressure, the better he performed.
The game resumed, and though De Ligt was stunned by the goal, he didn't let it affect his performance. The Ajax coach made adjustments, assigning two defenders to mark Maxi at all times.
But Maxi seemed to have tapped into his Brazilian roots, playing a style of football that was both beautiful and effective—rarely seen at this age level. His flair reminded the younger generation of Neymar and the older generation of Pelé.
Maximus shared many similarities with Pelé—his sombrero flick, his ball control, his chest-first touch. But the biggest similarity was in their position and mentality. Though Maxi was an attacking midfielder, he scored more than the striker and frequently drifted into attacking positions. Like Pelé, Maxi thrived against the toughest opponents.
When the match ended in a 6-0 victory, those who had once dismissed the comparisons to Pelé and Beckenbauer began to understand why he was compared to such legends. Maxi had captivated the entire stadium with every move. His skills weren't just flashy tricks—they were practical and efficient, a rare combination that left everyone in awe.
As the final whistle blew, relief washed over Maxi like a cool breeze on a scorching day. But beneath that relief lay a gnawing sense of expectation. Did I really prove myself? he thought, replaying each moment of the match in his mind. The joy of victory was sweet, but the weight of Beckenbauer's scrutiny lingered, a reminder that this was just the beginning of a much larger journey.
As the players left the field, De Ligt approached Maxi.
"Is hard work really more important than talent?" De Ligt asked, his expression conflicted. Maxi seemed like the embodiment of raw talent, and it made De Ligt question everything he'd been told about the importance of hard work.
"Talent is like a bowl," Maxi replied. "Hard work is the water that fills it. If you have a big bowl but it's empty, you're worse off than someone with a smaller bowl filled with water. Talent is important, but only hard work will take you to the top."
Maxi had heard these words from his father. His father didn't want him to become arrogant about his talent, and Maxi had taken the advice to heart. He knew that without hard work, no one becomes a professional footballer.
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