The final whistle had barely stopped echoing when the chaos began.
"Mateo, you are amazing!"
"Good job, Mateo!"
"Nice game, kid!"
"How did you get so fast?"
"Let's have a race — I want to see who's actually faster!"
The compliments came like a flood. Mateo barely had time to breathe before he was engulfed. Like seagulls to breadcrumbs, players and coaches swarmed him from all directions. Some ruffled his hair, others clapped his back with wild enthusiasm. One coach even playfully smacked his butt — it was the kind of chaotic adoration usually reserved for scoring World Cup winners or surviving a royal wedding.
It was like a mosh pit of praise. Mateo stood at the center of it all, stunned and helpless. If Garcia were here, he would've laughed his socks off — the same domineering kid who'd bossed him around on the pitch was now being manhandled like a beloved anime Sensei surrounded by the Six Paths of Pain. Pulling, picking, shouting — Mateo was under siege.
Finally, gasping for air, Mateo wriggled free like a fish slipping out of a net. With a quick burst of speed that would've impressed even himself even faster than he was on the pitch, he bolted for the tunnel, arms pumping, eyes focused — a man on a mission. Operation: Escape the Love Bomb.
He didn't notice the media crew lined up by the entrance. He especially didn't notice Miranda, the stunning Movistar LaLiga reporter standing front and center, mic in hand, her eyes sparkling in anticipation. She had stationed herself perfectly, just a few feet away from the huddle, ready to catch the post-match gold.
As Mateo charged forward, Miranda's heart leapt. She stood taller, brushed her hair back subtly, smiled professionally, and raised the mic.
"Mateo!" she called sweetly, timing it perfectly…
But Mateo didn't even blink.
FWOOOOSH.
A gust of air blew past her like a passing storm. Her hair whipped slightly, her notes fluttered, and her expression froze — eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
She had just been… breezed.
For a brief moment, she looked down the tunnel. Mateo was already halfway gone. The camera crew, meanwhile, were trying not to laugh.
Back in the commentary booth, the broadcasters howled.
"Did you see that?! Barcelona's hero just breezed past our beautiful Miranda — I swear, he looked faster than he did on the pitch!" one of them chuckled.
"That boy is still running like there's a fourth goal to score!" the other added, laughing along.
Miranda blinked, composed herself with the grace of a queen who'd just been snubbed by a streaking rocket, then turned toward the still-rolling camera. She smiled with practiced sweetness, and in a voice that sparkled like champagne, said:
"Well, it looks like our hero of the night is still a little camera shy."
And just like that, another moment was born — not just for sports news, but for memes, rewinds, and hashtags that would keep the internet buzzing for years to come.
Mateo, completely oblivious to the countless laughs and memes he'd just unintentionally sparked online and off, found himself pushing open the heavy door of the dressing room. His breath came in heavy, uneven gasps as his mind replayed the chaotic crowd he had just escaped. The piles of hands grabbing at him, the playful but overwhelming touches—pinches on the shoulder, teasing hair pulls, even some light pats on his backside—had been far more stressful than the ninety minutes on the pitch.
"They're insane," he muttered under his breath, fumbling to unzip his jacket, eager to change quickly into his sportswear and slip away before the frenzy reached a new peak.
But then, just as he turned, he spotted a figure standing quietly off to the side. The sudden presence startled him so much that he let out a sharp shout and stumbled backwards. His feet tangled, and down he went, landing hard on his butt.
"Ouch!"
The figure calmly stepped forward and stretched out a hand.
"Are you alright?" came a calm, kind voice.
Mateo looked up, surprised, and gratefully took the hand as it pulled him back to his feet. Brushing off his pants, he started to say "Than—" but his voice caught. His eyes widened in disbelief as he finally recognized the man standing before him.
"Messi..." he whispered, stunned.
The legendary Lionel Messi, footballing genius and icon, stood quietly there, smiling warmly.
Messi had left the main dressing room moments before to join the celebrations outside after witnessing Mateo's spectacular third goal — a hat trick that had saved Barcelona. But while the team continued to cheer and sing, Messi had quietly returned to the now mostly empty locker room, where he found Mateo rushing to change.
Seeing the young star's flustered and clumsy demeanor reminded Messi of his own son — also named Mateo. The coincidence brought a gentle smile to his face.
"Are you okay? Is your head alright? Do you need to get checked?" Messi asked, genuine concern in his eyes.
Mateo, still catching his breath, nodded, touched by the kindness of the football legend who, despite all his fame, had come over just to check on him — the kid who had just stolen the night.
Mateo, on the other hand, was on cloud nine. Mateo was a La Masia boy through and through. He had grown up in the club, had friends there, and was born in the city. For someone like him, there was one thing you could not escape — and that was Messi, the man standing right in front of him now.
Anytime Mateo trained in the academy, all the teachers and coaches would talk about how Messi was here, how he played, how they taught him, and all the stories about once being Messi's teachers, using him to train them. Not to even mention the many murals and pictures that filled the academy, honoring Messi—not just in the academy, but all over the city of Barcelona. And on top of that, Mateo's mother and her whole side of the family were lifelong Barcelona fans.
To cut the story short, Messi was Mateo's biggest inspiration.
Seeing Messi looking at him, Mateo blurted out, "Oo sorry, can you repeat yourself? I didn't quite catch you," scratching the side of his head nervously, then laughing.
Messi, noticing how flustered Mateo was, just laughed and said, "I asked if you are okay."
Mateo smiled and quickly replied, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Very good," and even started flexing a little to show he was alright—an act he immediately realized he was doing and quickly stopped, embarrassed. (Thinking to himself: Mateo, calm down right now—you're teammates!)
But Messi just laughed harder and said, "Your performance today was amazing. You really saved the team. Thank you." His words were filled with utmost sincerity.
Mateo, hearing that, smiled even wider. He was so excited he was almost speechless. As a Barcelona die-hard fan himself—not just because of family and academy ties—Mateo was a huge fan of not just the club but Messi too.
Mateo had grown up watching the Argentine.
In 2004, the 17-year-old Lionel Messi had made his debut representing Barcelona against city rivals Espanyol. Mateo was just 10 months old at that time, and he was still teased by his parents about how he was babbling and shouting happily when Messi scored—and when he was shown on the pitch.
In 2007, the 20-year-old Messi faced Getafe in the Copa del Rey semifinal, where he copied another legend, Maradona, by scoring a beautiful solo goal. He dribbled past numerous players and staged a breathtaking goal. That was Mateo's first ever live match, at just 3 years old, and he had witnessed the birth of the 'Ankara Messi.'
It had been that day that Messi sealed his place in Mateo's heart as his idol and inspiration. From that day on, Mateo had wanted to become a player like Messi.
Mateo wasn't just a system-helped player—no, he was actually talented. You had to be, to even play in La Masia. But he was more than just talented; he had a keen smell for goals. From breaking youth scoring records to everything else, he had become a very key and indispensable player for the team.
That's why, due to the series of injuries that then befell Barcelona, especially the forwards, head coach Koeman had asked his youth coach, Oscar Lopez, to send him a suitable forward. That's how Mateo was chosen and got promoted to the first team.
When Mateo had first come here, he was overwhelmed. Even though he was an academy player, he was still baffled and shell-shocked seeing the players he usually saw on TV or when cheering them on personally—especially when he saw Messi. He had just been shell-shocked then, not even knowing how to greet him. And now, that same Messi was here, telling him thank you for the match. Mateo's mind was gone.
"Mr. Messi, you are the greatest player in Barcelona history. It is my greatest honor to play with you," Mateo blurted out, cheeks flushing bright red and words stumbling over each other. Then he quickly added, "Oo, but we didn't play together because of the card… well, uhm…" His face grew even more flustered as he avoided Messi's eyes.
Messi, seeing that, just smiled and said, "Keep up the good work, kid. Very soon we would play together," he said, tapping him lightly on the chest before walking away to leave the locker room for the post-match conference. Although Mateo was the hero today, Barcelona were known to protect their youngsters; they wouldn't throw Mateo to the media until he was ready. This wasn't just to protect them—it was also to protect the club. After all, young people could be led on by reporters who twist their words or push them to say things they don't mean.
Mateo still stood there, shocked as he heard the praise and everything, just watching Messi leave the room. Mateo remained rooted to the spot, his mind swirling with disbelief. He stood there in a daze, still processing Messi's words as the locker room buzzed quietly around him. Then he heard a ding from inside his head.
His system.
Getting his thoughts back, the voice said:
[Sign in to get the talent and skills of the legendary star of the stadium.]
[You can only sign in to one stadium every day! The stadium can be repeatedly signed in!]
The system sounded in his head again, as he looked at it and read:
[The host can be bound to a stadium. When playing in this stadium, the host's state is always full, and the ability to resist injuries is always full.]
Hearing that, Mateo was really shocked—his eyes widened involuntarily. This is too awesome. As long as he keeps playing with the team, he can gain the talents of those legendary stars. Messi, Maradona, Cruyff, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Zidane, Pelé… If I can get all the talents of these people, wouldn't I be invincible? Also, by binding the court, you can always be in a full state and never get injured. This is too awesome!
Not even wasting time, he quickly chose Camp Nou, binding it successfully.
[Bind "Camp Nou" successfully!]
The sound echoed in his head as he smiled, his face widening in disbelief. Just then, distant voices and shouts drifted toward him, breaking through his moment of joy. The smile slowly faded as Mateo realized—he hadn't been able to escape after all. The team was already heading back this way.
Mateo stood frozen, caught between excitement and nervous anticipation, as the weight of the moment settled on him. Outside the locker room, the rest of the world was still abuzz, discussing the magical night and the magical boy of football they had just witnessed. Mateo, the young prodigy who had just staged a hat trick and saved Barcelona, was now the talk of the town — a rising star whose story was only just beginning.
A/N
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