Reincarnated As A Wonderkid-Chapter 566: Serie A.

Alex stood on the sidelines, wearing sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat. He looked like a tourist who had gotten lost on the way to the beach.

"Pre-season," Alex muttered. "The time of hope. And sweat."

Mark was standing next to him. He was wearing a whistle, a stopwatch, and... water wings. Bright orange inflatable armbands.

"Mark," Alex said. "Why are you wearing floaties?"

"Safety first!" Mark declared. "The humidity is 90 percent! We are practically underwater! I am prepared for spontaneous flooding!"

"We are on a mountain, Mark. Floods go down, not up."

"Science is unpredictable!" Mark argued. "Also, they match my shoes."

They did match his shoes. Bright orange neon.

Alex blew his whistle.

"Okay!" he shouted to the squad. "Warm up over. Time for the first friendly."

The opponents were a local team. AC Mountain Goats (or something like that, Alex hadn’t really checked the name). They were semi-pro, enthusiastic, and looked like they ate raw pasta for breakfast.

The Como squad was looking sharp. Saka was juggling. Belotti was doing pushups. Luca and Marco were arguing about who had the better haircut.

"Listen up," Alex said. "This is not about winning. It is about fitness. It is about rhythm. It is about..."

"SCORING GOALS!" Mark interrupted. "AND CELEBRATING!"

"And structure," Alex finished, ignoring him. "Try the new formation. The ’Liquid Diamond 2.0’."

"2.0?" Rico asked. "Is it shinier?"

"It is faster," Alex said. "Less thinking. More flow."

The game started.

It was... chaotic.

The Mountain Goats ran everywhere. They didn’t have a formation. They just chased the ball like a pack of happy dogs.

In the fifth minute, a Goat midfielder (who was also the local baker) tackled Saka. Gently.

"Sorry!" the baker said. "I love your play! Can I have a selfie later?"

"After the game," Saka laughed, dusting himself off.

Como dominated.

Saka scored. Belotti scored. Paz scored.

3-0 at halftime.

Steve (who was visiting from London on holiday) was watching from the stands. He was eating a gelato.

"Too easy," Steve shouted down. "Make it harder! Play with your weak foot only!"

"Challenge accepted!" Mark yelled from the bench. "Everyone! Left foot only! Or right foot if you are left-footed! Opposite foot!"

The second half was a comedy.

Professional footballers trying to pass with their weak feet. Balls went into the stands. Into the lake. One ball hit a passing duck (the duck was fine, just annoyed).

But they laughed. They enjoyed it.

In the eightieth minute, Luca got the ball on his weak foot. He tried to cross.

It sliced off his shin. It flew high in the air. It dipped.

It went into the top corner.

"I MEANT THAT!" Luca screamed.

"Liar!" Marco shouted. "You closed your eyes!"

The game ended 5-0.

"Good workout," Alex said. "Fitness levels are acceptable."

"Fun levels are maximum!" Mark cheered.

The next friendly was harder.

They flew to America. The land of opportunity. And air conditioning.

Miami.

They were playing Inter Miami.

Lionel Messi. Again.

"He follows me," Alex whispered as they walked into the stadium. "He is the ghost of Christmas Past."

"He is the ghost of Christmas Goals!" Mark said. "He is Santa Claus of football! He delivers presents to the net!"

The stadium was pink. Everything was pink. The seats. The lights. Even the grass looked slightly pink under the floodlights.

Alex met Messi in the tunnel.

"Manager now?" Messi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Trying," Alex said.

"You look too young to shout at people," Messi smiled.

"I don’t shout," Alex said. "I suggest loudly."

"And him?" Messi pointed at Mark, who was trying to balance a pink flamingo (plastic) on his head.

"He is the mascot," Alex sighed.

"I AM THE TACTICAL GENIUS!" Mark shouted. "THE FLAMINGO IS MY ADVISOR!"

The game was a spectacle.

Messi played 45 minutes. He walked. He watched. He passed.

In the thirtieth minute, Messi got the ball. He didn’t run. He just chipped a pass over the entire Como defense.

Suarez (who was also there, looking hungry) ran onto it.

Volley.

Goal.

One zero. Miami.

The crowd went wild. Fireworks exploded.

"He is still magic," Saka said to Alex during a water break.

"Magic doesn’t age," Alex said. "It just gets slower. But smarter."

Second half.

Alex made changes. He put on the kids.

Luca. Marco. And a new signing, a young Brazilian striker named Tito.

Tito was fast. Mark fast.

"Show them the future," Alex told Tito.

Tito ran. He ran past Busquets. He ran past Alba.

He was a blur.

He scored two goals in ten minutes.

2-1. Como won.

After the game, Beckham walked onto the pitch. He looked perfect, as always.

"Good team," Beckham said to Alex. "Young. Exciting." 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"We are building," Alex said.

"Build high," Beckham said. "The view is better."

Milo ran over. He was wearing a pink suit that matched the stadium.

"THE MIAMI VICE!" Milo screamed. "I AM THE DETECTIVE OF DEALS! ALEX! I AM SELLING FLAMINGOS! REAL ONES! I STOLE THEM FROM THE ZOO! (Joking! They are inflatable!). ONLY FIFTY DOLLARS!"

"Milo, please tell me you didn’t steal a flamingo," Alex said.

"I BORROWED IT INDEFINITELY!" Milo winked.

They went back to the hotel.

Mark was eating a Cuban sandwich. It was the size of a skateboard.

"This is the best country," Mark mumbled. "They understand portion sizes."

"We have one more game," Alex said. "Then back to Italy."

"Who do we play?" Mark asked.

"Real Madrid," Alex said.

Mark stopped chewing.

"In America?"

"In New York. MetLife Stadium."

"The El Clasico of the Atlantic," Mark whispered. "Epic."

New York.

The city that never sleeps.

Alex didn’t sleep either. He was watching tapes.

Real Madrid had a new manager too. Zinedine Zidane. He had returned. The Master.

"Zidane vs The Professor," the newspapers said. "Magic vs Logic."

The game was played in front of 80,000 people.

It was intense for a friendly.

Vinicius vs Saka. Bellingham vs Paz.

And on the touchline, Zidane vs Alex.

Zidane stood there, hands in pockets. Cool. Calm.

Alex stood there, pointing, instructing.

In the sixtieth minute, it was 2-2.

Alex looked at his bench.

He saw Mark.

"Mark," Alex said.

"Yes Boss?"

"Do you want to play?"

Mark’s eyes widened. "Play? Me? But I am retired! My knees are vintage!"

"Just ten minutes," Alex said. "For the crowd. For the pizza."

"FOR THE PIZZA!" Mark shouted. He ripped off his suit (he was wearing his kit underneath, just in case).

He ran onto the pitch. The crowd cheered. They remembered him. The Emperor of Speed.

He couldn’t run like before. He was slower. But he was smarter.

He got the ball on the wing.

Mendy came to tackle him.

Mark didn’t run past him. He stopped. He pointed at the sky.

"LOOK! A UFO!" Mark shouted.

Mendy looked up.

Mark passed the ball through his legs.

The crowd laughed.

Mark crossed.

Tito headed it.

Goal.

Three two. Como.

Mark ran to the camera. He kissed the badge (which was a sticker he had put on).

"STILL GOT IT!" Mark yelled. "CLASS IS PERMANENT!"

The final whistle blew.

Como 3. Real Madrid 2.

Pre-season champions (which meant nothing, but felt like everything).

Zidane walked over. He smiled.

"Your friend is crazy," Zidane said.

"He is unique," Alex agreed.

"Good luck in the season," Zidane said. "You have a good spirit."

"Merci, Zizou."