Chapter 10: Eyes Like Daggers, Never Backing Down

It was Thursday, February 1st, 2001. Less than a month ago, Kaka had recovered from an injury. Of the ten wishes he had made while stuck in bed, three had already come true, and the fourth wish was about to happen. 

This was the Morumbi Stadium, the home stadium of the São Paulo football team. A match between São Paulo and Botafogo was taking place as part of the early rounds of the Rio-São Paulo Championship tournament. The score was 0-1, with the home team São Paulo trailing.

In football, the home team's score is listed first, followed by the away team's score. So 0-1 meant São Paulo was losing.

At this time, football in Brazil was not very popular or successful. This was because many people preferred to watch matches at home on television rather than go to the stadiums. Almost all of Brazil's best football stars had been hired by big European clubs, leaving only some young talents and older players coming back to retire in the Brazilian league. This made the league less exciting for fans.

As a result, many domestic football games in Brazil did not have very high attendance, except for a few big matches. Even for a huge club like São Paulo playing at home, the attendance rate for this particular match was only about two-thirds of the stadium capacity.

It may not sound like a lot, but with the Morumbi Stadium holding 80,000 seats, a two-thirds attendance of over 50,000 fans was still very good compared to most other clubs.

Playing at home, São Paulo had conceded a goal within the first ten minutes and spent the entire first half attacking their opponents' goal trying to equalize, but couldn't score. In the second half, the team that was leading 1-0 unexpectedly went on the offensive, putting São Paulo, who should have been the ones pushing for an equalizing goal, on the defensive.

Alvarez, the São Paulo coach, paced up and down the sidelines, constantly shouting instructions at his players on the field, but it didn't seem to help. His team remained under pressure.

"São Paulo is in trouble, and Alvarez seems helpless. This is the strongest lineup he can field, but his players lack fighting spirit... A shot! A brilliant save! Cheni reacted quickly, once again saving his team, but you can't rely solely on a goalkeeper to win. They must make some changes... Indeed, Alvarez is heading towards the substitutes' bench. São Paulo is going to make a substitution."

"A São Paulo player has come out to warm up. Hmm? Who's that? Well, just kidding, of course I know who it is, I'm a professional commentator... Wait, let me check my notes. Oh, I found it. A young central midfielder from São Paulo's youth academy, his name is Ricardo Izecson dos Santos... Never mind, I'll just read it off his jersey. His name is Kaka, born in... 1982, so he's 19 years old, or maybe 18? This is his first professional match. Alvarez must be out of his mind. What São Paulo needs now is an experienced hero, not a child. Not every youngster turns out to be the next Ronaldo."

Of course, Alvarez was unaware that his substitution decision had prompted the commentator's frantic rant. He was now hurriedly giving some last-minute instructions to the young Kaka.

"Listen, Ricardo, I know a lot of people probably think I'm crazy right now putting you in, but I know what I'm doing. When you go out there, tell Luis to stay high up the pitch and pin back their last defender. I don't want to see him dropping too deep again. As for you, I trust what I've seen, and I believe in you. I need you to energize our midfield, link up play with your passing out to the flanks, and make runs into the box like you did in our practice matches. Use your pace to disrupt their midfield and get the ball into the attacking area. Do you understand?"

"...No."

"Oh for heaven's sake, then just tell me, what are you planning to do once you're on the pitch?"

"Put the damn ball in the back of their net." 

"That's it, go warm up. And remember, you need to make those driving runs..."

But Kaka couldn't hear what Alvarez said next, as his body seemed to move on its own. His ears and mind were filled with the roar of the crowd, who could have been cheering or mocking him, but he couldn't make out any words, nor did he want to. He could feel everyone's eyes fixated on him. 

He completed his warm-up as quickly as possible and then took his position on the sidelines, ready to come on. The fourth official raised the substitution board showing the numbers.

Number 8 was coming off, number 23 was going on.

The popular jersey numbers 7 through 11 were already taken in São Paulo's squad, and even 22 was worn by someone else. After considering his options, Kaka had chosen number 23 for himself. 

The famous "Flying Dutchman" incident with Edgar Davids hadn't happened yet, and David Beckham was still Manchester United's iconic number 7, so the number 23 had no particular significance in the football world at that time apart from in basketball.

Additionally, Kaka's name was initially written as "CACA" on the back of his jersey, which doesn't sound that different from the now globally recognized "KAKA" when pronounced. These names don't exist in Portuguese, so there was no real distinction. However, "CACA" has a rude meaning in languages like Spanish and Italian, so he wisely changed it to "KAKA."

In the 58th minute of the match, the ball went out of play, and São Paulo made their substitution. 

After shaking hands with the player he was replacing, Kaka stepped onto the pitch with his left foot first, went into a half-squat, brushed the grass with his right hand, stood up, and followed with his right foot, jogging forward onto the field of play.

"It's finally my turn to take the field."

Unfortunately, real life didn't have any kind of achievement system or notification to mark the big moment like "First Appearance Unlocked!" or anything like that. 

Life isn't a movie, and Kaka's entrance was decidedly low-key. Apart from the stadium announcer's brief mention of the substitution, he was greeted only by widespread confusion and a torrent of doubt from commentators and fans, with no rousing background music, no overly dramatic internal monologue, and no extreme close-up cameras to reveal every bead of nervous sweat on his face.

He felt strangely nervous, as if he were dreaming and disconnected from reality. 

The wind blew gently against his face, not cold, but rather warm and comfortable.

And so was the feeling in his heart - warm like the bright sunlight.

A smattering of polite applause arose from some sections of the stands.

Kaka's parents and younger brother were seated in the audience, along with childhood friends like Falcao, Fred, and Sanchez, who had played street football together when they were little kids. Initially, none of them expected Kaka to actually get a chance to take the field, especially with the team trailing in the match. Everyone assumed Kaka's debut would be postponed, but he unexpectedly made an emergency appearance in the least likely scenario.

This coach must have either really disliked Kaka intensely or had already given up on winning the match, essentially treating a lost cause as if it were still alive. This was the prevailing thought among nearly everyone present in the confused stadium. 

The match resumed after Kaka's substitution.

Kaka was trembling slightly. 

Partly due to nervousness at making his professional debut, but mostly due to sheer excitement and adrenaline.

Called upon in a crisis situation, with all eyes now on him as the surprising substitution, some young players would crumble under such immense pressure, surrendering to fear and anxiety. But others are inspired to soar against the current, propelled by this very force.

He knew he belonged to the latter group – he had to be that kind of player.

Because he was Kaka. 

He was humble, but only out of good breeding from his family; he was gentle, but only by his caring nature.

The real him was fearless, with eyes like daggers that never backed down from any challenge.

(end of chapter)