אל תקרא

by QXCVBNGRTFS

הופסק

4. Chapter 4

During their holiday in Greece, Alessandro and Filippo found themselves sitting on a quiet beach, the waves gently lapping against the shore. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the sea, creating the perfect atmosphere for a heartfelt conversation.

Filippo leaned back in his chair, gazing at the horizon. "You know, Alessandro, when I was your age, I was still figuring things out. I wasn't a natural talent like Del Piero or Totti. I had to fight for every goal, every chance."

Alessandro chuckled. "And yet, you became one of the best goal poachers in history. You had that instinct, that knack for being in the right place at the right time."

Filippo smirked. "That's true. But you, my son, you're different. You have something I never had—creativity, vision. You control the tempo of the game. I was just there to finish the job."

Alessandro nodded. "It hasn't been easy, though. Everyone compares me to you. At Milan, at the national team… sometimes I wonder if they see me as my own player or just as 'Filippo Inzaghi's son.'"

Filippo placed a reassuring hand on Alessandro's shoulder. "I understand that feeling. But listen to me—you've already carved your own path. The Golden Boot, the World Cup awards, the Scudetto… those aren't mine, Alessandro. They are yours."

Alessandro smiled, appreciating his father's words. "I guess I just have to keep proving it, season after season."

Filippo grinned. "That's football, son. The moment you think you've done enough, you stop growing. Keep pushing, keep improving. And above all, enjoy every moment."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, father and son sat in silence, reflecting on their journeys—two careers, two generations, forever linked by love for the game.

Alessandro picked up a small stone and skipped it across the water. "You know, Dad, I always wonder… what was your favorite goal? The one that meant the most to you."

Filippo chuckled, leaning back. "That's a tough one. I scored in Champions League finals, won league titles, and had some magical nights in the Azzurri shirt. But if I had to pick… maybe my second goal in the 2007 Champions League final against Liverpool. I lived for moments like that—being the man who makes the difference when it matters most."

Alessandro grinned. "A true Inzaghi goal. Right place, right time."

Filippo laughed. "Exactly! But what about you? What's the goal that meant the most to you?"

Alessandro took a deep breath, thinking. "Maybe the one against Juventus last season. It was my first real 'big moment' in Serie A. Everyone kept saying I was too young, not ready for the senior team. And then, in the final minutes, I scored the winner at San Siro."

Filippo nodded approvingly. "That was a special one. I was in the stands that night… I felt like I was reliving my own career through you."

Alessandro smirked. "Hopefully, I won't miss as many chances as you did."

Filippo burst into laughter. "Fair enough! But remember—when you score as many as I did, people forget the misses."

The two sat quietly for a moment, the waves continuing their rhythmic dance on the shore. Then Alessandro broke the silence.

"Dad… do you think I can win the Ballon d'Or one day?"

Filippo turned to his son, his eyes filled with pride. "I don't think, Alessandro. I know. You have everything it takes—talent, intelligence, work ethic. But the Ballon d'Or isn't won in one season. It's won through consistency, through always showing up when it matters."

Alessandro nodded. "Then that's my next goal."

Filippo smiled. "Good. Because I believe in you more than anyone. And whatever happens, just remember—whether you win the Ballon d'Or or not, whether you score 200 goals or 50, I'll always be proud of you."

Alessandro looked at his father, a rare moment of deep emotion passing between them. "Thanks, Dad. That means everything."

The sun had fully set now, and the stars began to twinkle above them. Tomorrow, they would return to training, to the relentless pursuit of greatness. But tonight, they were simply a father and son, bound by love, football, and a shared dream.

Alessandro hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice softer than before. "Dad… do you miss her?"

Filippo's expression changed instantly. His usual confidence, the playful smirk he often wore, faded into something more solemn. He exhaled deeply, staring out at the dark waves.

"Every single day," he admitted.

Alessandro looked down, tracing patterns in the sand with his fingers. "I never got to know her. I've seen pictures, I've heard stories… but it's not the same."

Filippo turned to his son, his eyes filled with emotion. "She would have loved you, Alessandro. She would have been so proud of you."

Alessandro swallowed hard. "Do you ever think about what life would have been like if she were still here?"

Filippo nodded slowly. "All the time. I think about how she would have been at your games, how she would've hugged you after your first goal for Milan. I think about how she would've told you to wear a scarf in the winter because she'd worry too much." He chuckled sadly. "She was like that—always caring, always thinking ahead."

Alessandro smiled faintly. "You never really talk about her."

Filippo sighed. "It's not because I don't want to. It's because it still hurts. Losing her… it was the hardest thing I've ever gone through. And then there was you."

Alessandro looked up, confused. "Me?"

Filippo nodded. "You were my reason to keep going. After she was gone, I had to be strong—not just for myself, but for you. You saved me, Alessandro."

Alessandro felt his throat tighten. He had never truly considered what his birth had meant for his father, the pain and the love intertwined.

"I wish I could have known her," Alessandro whispered.

Filippo put an arm around his son. "She's always been with you. In your kindness, in your determination, in the way you never give up. She lives in you, Alessandro."

The young footballer blinked away the sting in his eyes and leaned into his father's embrace. For all the trophies, the goals, and the glory, this was what mattered most—family, love, and the memory of someone who would always be part of them.

Noticing the heaviness of the conversation, Alessandro decided to change the mood. He sat up straighter, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"You know, Dad," he said, "since we're in Greece, let's play a game. I'll describe a Greek god, and you have to guess who it is."

Filippo chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. But don't make it too hard—I was never great at mythology."

Alessandro smirked. "Okay, first one. He's the king of the gods, controls lightning, and is famous for… let's say, having way too many love affairs."

Filippo rolled his eyes. "That's too easy. Zeus."

"Ding ding ding! Correct!" Alessandro laughed. "Alright, next one. He's the god of war, always looking for a fight, and probably the kind of guy who'd get sent off with a red card every match."

Filippo stroked his chin. "Hmm… Ares?"

"Spot on again!" Alessandro nodded. "Alright, this one's tricky. He's a messenger, fast as lightning, and is the god of travelers and thieves."

Filippo smirked. "Sounds like a quick-footed winger. That's Hermes!"

Alessandro clapped. "You're better at this than you let on, old man!"

Filippo laughed. "I may not be as fast as Hermes, but I always knew how to find the back of the net!"

They both laughed, the earlier heaviness replaced by a sense of joy. The night carried on with more guesses, more laughter, and a renewed bond between father and son.

Alessandro leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, Dad, now we're getting serious. Next one—you might like this one. He's a warrior, but he's not a god. He was dipped into a river to become nearly invincible, but his mom held him by the heel."

Filippo smirked. "Come on, Alessandro. Even I know that. Achilles."

"Correct!" Alessandro grinned. "Alright, now let's see if you really know your mythology. This guy is the god of the underworld, rules over the dead, and has a super cool dog with three heads."

Filippo raised an eyebrow. "The guy who kidnapped that girl… what's her name? Persephone?"

Alessandro beamed. "Yes! And his name?"

Filippo snapped his fingers. "Hades."

Alessandro clapped. "Okay, you're actually doing great, but now it's time for the real test. Who's the god of the sun, music, archery, and—wait for it—prophecies?"

Filippo leaned back and thought for a moment. "Sun and music… not Zeus, not Hermes…" He looked at Alessandro, who was barely containing his excitement. "Apollo?"

Alessandro fist-pumped. "Yes! You got it!"

Filippo laughed. "I swear, you're enjoying this way too much."

Alessandro shrugged. "What can I say? Greek mythology is incredible. Plus, think about it—if we were in ancient Greece, these gods would be our version of football legends. Zeus would be the captain, Ares would be a ruthless defender, and Hermes would be the fastest winger ever."

Filippo burst into laughter. "And I suppose Hades would be the referee, always sending people to the underworld?"

Alessandro grinned. "Exactly! And Achilles? Easily the greatest striker in history—until he gets injured, of course."

Filippo shook his head in amusement. "I have to admit, this is fun. Alright, last one—give me your toughest question."

Alessandro's eyes gleamed as he thought for a moment. Then he smirked. "Alright, Dad. Who was the trickster who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humans?"

Filippo paused, narrowing his eyes. "Trickster… fire… oh! That's Prometheus!"

Alessandro threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, you win. You officially know more mythology than I expected!"

Filippo grinned. "Maybe I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."

They laughed together, the bond between them strengthened not just by football, but by the shared joy of stories, history, and a night under the Greek stars.

The next morning, with the Mediterranean sun shining brightly, Alessandro and Filippo set off to explore the wonders of Greece, eager to take in its history and beauty.

Their first stop was the Acropolis of Athens, a towering symbol of ancient civilization. As they climbed the steps toward the Parthenon, Alessandro's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Can you imagine, Dad? This place has been standing for over 2,000 years. Philosophers, warriors, and kings walked right where we are now."

Filippo chuckled. "And now, a couple of tourists trying not to trip on these ancient stones."

Alessandro laughed. "That would be embarrassing. Falling on history itself."

They wandered through the ruins, taking in the grand columns and breathtaking views of Athens below. Filippo, not usually one for history, found himself drawn in by Alessandro's enthusiasm. "You really love this stuff, don't you?" he asked.

Alessandro nodded. "It's incredible. These people built empires, created democracy, and told stories that still inspire us today."

From Athens, they traveled to Delphi, the legendary site of the Oracle. As they stood near the Temple of Apollo, Alessandro grinned. "This is where the ancient Greeks came to ask the gods for advice. Maybe I should ask if I'll ever grow taller."

Filippo smirked. "You'd better hurry before the Oracle closes for the day."

Next, they visited Olympia, where the first Olympic Games were held. Alessandro ran his hand over the ancient stadium's stone track. "It's strange to think how much of life has changed, but people have always wanted to test their limits, to see who's the fastest or the strongest."

Filippo nodded. "And they didn't even have proper shoes back then."

Finally, as the sun began to set, they took a boat to Santorini, where white buildings clung to the cliffs, overlooking the deep blue sea. Sitting at a café, enjoying a meal of fresh seafood, Filippo took a deep breath, looking out over the water.

"This has been good for us," he said. "Away from the noise, the routine. Just time to enjoy life."

Alessandro smiled. "Yeah. It's nice to just take it all in."

As the waves crashed below them, father and son shared a quiet moment, appreciating the history, the beauty, and the simple joy of discovering a new place together.

The warm Greek sun filtered through the curtains as Alessandro stirred awake. He yawned, stretching his arms, when suddenly—

"Buon compleanno, Ale!"

Filippo's voice boomed through the room as he swung the door open, carrying a small tray with breakfast. On it sat a croissant, fresh fruit, and a cup of espresso, along with a small pastry with a candle stuck in the middle.

Alessandro blinked in surprise. "Dad—what is this?"

Filippo grinned. "It's your birthday, isn't it? I thought I'd bring you breakfast in bed. Not bad for an old man, huh?"

Alessandro chuckled, sitting up. "I wasn't expecting this. You're usually terrible at surprises."

Filippo feigned offense. "That's not true! I just don't usually have time to plan them. But today is special."

Alessandro smirked. "Because your son is turning 18?"

Filippo nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Exactly. Eighteen… feels like just yesterday you were a little kid running around the house, kicking everything that wasn't nailed down."

Alessandro rolled his eyes. "Here we go with the nostalgia."

Filippo laughed. "I can't help it! I still see you as that kid sometimes." His expression softened. "But you're not. You've grown up, Ale. And I'm proud of the man you're becoming."

Alessandro looked down, smiling. "Thanks, Dad."

Filippo clapped his hands together. "Alright! Eat up, because today is all about you. I've got the whole day planned."

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly do you have in store?"

Filippo smirked. "You'll see. Just get ready—we're going on an adventure."

Excitement sparked in Alessandro's chest as he grabbed the croissant. He had no idea what his father had planned, but if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was going to be a birthday to remember.

[xXx]

After finishing breakfast, Alessandro quickly got ready, still curious about what his father had planned. As he stepped outside their hotel, Filippo was waiting by a car he had rented for the day, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Alright, birthday boy, first stop—let's start the day with a bit of adventure."

Stop 1: Sailing in the Aegean Sea

Their first destination was the marina, where Filippo had arranged a private sailing trip. As they stepped onto the boat, Alessandro's eyes widened. "Seriously? We're going sailing?"

Filippo laughed. "Of course! You're 18 now—it's time to see the world from a new perspective."

The boat glided over the shimmering blue water, the sea breeze ruffling their hair. Alessandro leaned against the railing, taking it all in. "This is incredible, Dad."

Filippo nodded. "I thought you'd like it. Greece is even more beautiful from the water."

For a while, they just enjoyed the peace of the open sea, chatting about everything and nothing.

Stop 2: Exploring a Hidden Beach

After their sailing trip, they docked near a secluded beach, one of Greece's hidden gems. The sand was soft beneath their feet, and the crystal-clear water invited them in.

Alessandro grinned. "Race you to the water!"

Filippo rolled his eyes. "You know I'm not as fast as I used to be."

"That's a you problem." Alessandro laughed and sprinted ahead, diving into the sea as Filippo followed behind, laughing.

They swam, relaxed under the sun, and even found a small rocky area to climb. Alessandro took a deep breath. "This is one of the best birthdays ever."

Filippo smiled. "And we're only halfway through."

Stop 3: A Feast with a View

By midday, they had worked up an appetite. Filippo took Alessandro to a cliffside restaurant in Santorini, with breathtaking views of the white buildings and deep blue sea.

Sitting at their table, Alessandro looked around in awe. "This is unreal."

Filippo raised his glass. "Eighteen years ago, my life changed forever. And I couldn't be prouder of the man you're becoming."

Alessandro felt a lump in his throat but played it off with a smirk. "You're getting sentimental again."

Filippo shrugged. "I'm allowed—it's a special day."

They enjoyed a feast of fresh seafood, grilled meats, and traditional Greek dishes, savoring every bite.

Stop 4: Sunset at Oia

As the day neared its end, Filippo drove them to Oia, the famous Santorini village known for its magical sunsets. Sitting on a ledge overlooking the horizon, they watched as the sky turned shades of orange, pink, and purple.

Alessandro sighed contentedly. "I don't think I'll ever forget this day."

Filippo smiled. "That was the goal."

For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the gentle breeze and the distant chatter of other tourists. Then Filippo pulled something from his pocket—a small box.

"Before we head back, I have one last surprise."

Alessandro raised an eyebrow as he opened the box. Inside was a simple but elegant silver chain with a pendant in the shape of an olive branch.

"It's a symbol of victory, strength, and peace," Filippo explained. "I thought it would be a good reminder for you, no matter where life takes you."

Alessandro ran his fingers over the pendant, touched by the gesture. "Thanks, Dad. This means a lot."

Filippo patted his back. "Happy 18th, Ale. I hope this was a birthday worth remembering."

Alessandro smiled, looking out at the last light of the sun. "It really was."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink, Filippo turned to Alessandro with a knowing smile.

"Alright, one last stop before we call it a night," he said.

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "There's more?"

Filippo smirked. "Of course. You only turn 18 once."

They drove through the winding roads of Santorini, the evening air crisp and refreshing. Soon, they arrived at an elegant five-star restaurant perched atop a cliff, offering a breathtaking panoramic view of the Aegean Sea. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against whitewashed walls, and the scent of grilled seafood and Mediterranean spices filled the air.

As Alessandro and Filippo settled into their seats at the elegant restaurant, the warm glow of the sunset casting golden hues over the terrace, Alessandro casually pulled out his phone. He had barely checked social media all day, too caught up in the celebrations.

Tapping on Instagram, he scrolled through his notifications and was met with a surprising sight.

"100 million followers?! No way..."

Filippo, sipping his wine, raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

Alessandro shook his head in disbelief. "I just hit 100 million followers. I'm now the third most-followed footballer on Instagram—only behind Ronaldo and Messi."

Filippo chuckled. "Well, are you really surprised? You've had quite the two years."

Alessandro leaned back in his chair, still processing it. He wasn't obsessed with social media, but seeing his name among the sport's biggest legends felt surreal. A teenager from AC Milan's academy, now one of the most followed athletes in the world.

Out of curiosity, he scrolled down his feed and stopped at a post from two months ago—a picture of him standing on the Wembley pitch, head down, staring at the Champions League trophy that had slipped from his grasp. The caption read:

"The hardest night of my life. We gave it everything, but it wasn't enough. Congratulations to Barcelona. We'll be back."

He stared at the post for a moment, remembering the crushing feeling of that final. Losing on the biggest stage hurt, but even in that pain, he had promised himself it wouldn't be his last chance.

Filippo, noticing his son's expression, set his glass down. "Thinking about the final?"

Alessandro nodded. "Yeah. It still stings a little."

Filippo sighed. "That's football. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But that loss won't define you."

Alessandro exhaled, putting his phone away. "I know. I just hate losing."

Filippo smirked. "Good. That means you care."

As Alessandro stared at his Instagram post about the Champions League Final loss, he instinctively scrolled down to the comments section. Even two months later, thousands of new comments were pouring in. Some were supportive, others emotional, and a few still painful to read.

Top Comments:

Lionel Messi ( leomessi): "You're a great player, Alessandro. Keep your head up—there will be more finals."

Cristiano Ronaldo ( cristiano): "Losses make champions. Use this as motivation. The future is yours."

Paolo Maldini ( maldini3): "Proud of you, ragazzo. Milan will rise again."

Francesco Totti ( tottierb): "Rome wasn't built in a day. Neither are champions. Keep going, kid."

AC Milan Official ( acmilan): "Our pride, our future. Sempre Milan." ️

Andrea Pirlo ( pirlo21): "You played like a champion. Your time will come."

Fan Comment: "You made us dream, Ale. This is just the beginning."

Fan Comment: "Only 17 and carrying Milan to a UCL Final. You're built different, Alessandro."

Fan Comment: "I cried that night, but I know you'll be back stronger."

As he read through the messages, Alessandro felt a mix of emotions. The pain of losing that final still lingered, but the overwhelming support reminded him why he played the game in the first place. Even Messi, Ronaldo, and Totti, legends he had grown up idolizing, had commented.

Filippo, watching his son's expression, asked, "What do they say?"

Alessandro exhaled. "A lot of things. Messi, Ronaldo, even Maldini—they all believe I'll come back stronger."

Filippo smirked. "Then you'd better prove them right."

Alessandro chuckled, locking his phone and setting it aside. "Yeah. But not tonight."

Filippo nodded in approval. "Good. Tonight, we celebrate."

At that moment, the waiter arrived, placing their appetizers on the table. The scent of fresh seafood and warm bread filled the air, and Alessandro finally let go of the past—at least for the night.

A waiter greeted them and led them to a private terrace table, perfectly positioned to watch the sun set over the sea. The golden light shimmered on the water as Alessandro took his seat, gazing at the scene before him.

"This… this is unreal," he murmured.

Filippo smiled. "The perfect way to end a perfect day, don't you think?"

Alessandro nodded as he picked up the menu. Every dish was a masterpiece, featuring the finest Greek cuisine. They started with an appetizer of grilled octopus and fresh bread with olive oil, followed by lobster pasta for Alessandro and lamb souvlaki for Filippo.

As they ate, they talked about everything—their travels, their favorite memories, and even small, silly stories from the past. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and genuine warmth.

When dessert arrived—a rich baklava drizzled with honey and a side of Greek yogurt with fresh figs—Filippo raised his glass of wine.

"To you, Alessandro. To 18 years of life, adventure, and everything that's still ahead."

Alessandro smiled and clinked his glass of sparkling juice against his father's. "And to you, for making today unforgettable."

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, they sat in peaceful silence, soaking in the moment. The waves crashed gently below, the night breeze carried the scent of the sea, and for Alessandro, there was no place in the world he'd rather be.

[xXx]

As Alessandro and Filippo enjoyed their meal, savoring every bite of the delicious seafood and traditional Greek dishes, the soft murmur of conversation surrounded them. The sun had fully set, and the warm evening breeze carried the distant sound of the waves crashing below.

Unbeknownst to them, at a table across the terrace, Florentino Pérez, the powerful president of Real Madrid, sat deep in thought, his expression serious.

The 2014/15 season had ended with FC Barcelona completing yet another European Treble—winning La Liga, the Copa del Rey, and the UEFA Champions League. It was a painful blow to Real Madrid, who had failed to defend their La Décima triumph from the previous year. The dominance of Barcelona, fueled by Messi, Neymar, and Suárez, had left Pérez restless.

Seated beside him was José Ángel Sánchez, Real Madrid's general director and one of Pérez's most trusted advisors. The two men were quietly discussing how they could respond to Barcelona's treble-winning season and reinforce Madrid's squad.

"Barça have taken another step forward," Sánchez muttered. "If we don't act fast, they'll continue dominating Europe."

Pérez sighed, stirring his glass of wine. "We need to make a statement signing. Someone who can be the future of Real Madrid. Someone who can challenge Barcelona's grip on football."

It was then that Pérez's eyes fell upon Alessandro Inzaghi.

The young Italian was sitting with his father, laughing and enjoying his birthday dinner, completely unaware of the powerful gaze studying him. Alessandro had been the breakout star of world football, winning the World Cup Golden Ball, Young Player of the Tournament, and Golden Boot at just 17 years old. He had led AC Milan to a Serie A title and a Champions League Final appearance, all before turning 18.

A generational talent.

Sánchez noticed Pérez's stare and turned to look. "Alessandro Inzaghi," he said knowingly.

Pérez nodded. "That boy… he is special."

Sánchez smirked. "The Golden Boy of Italy. He carried Milan to the Champions League Final at 17. The world already compares him to the greats."

Pérez leaned back, deep in thought. "Milan won't let him go easily… but if we want to reclaim our throne, we need to plan for the future."

Sánchez chuckled. "You're thinking about bringing him to Madrid, aren't you?"

Pérez smiled slightly. "I'm thinking about what Madrid will look like in five years. Cristiano isn't getting younger. We need the next icon. A player who can define an era."

He looked back at Alessandro, who was now speaking animatedly to Filippo, likely about something nerdy like Greek mythology. The young star had no idea that the president of Real Madrid was watching him, contemplating a move that could change football forever.

Pérez took a slow sip of his wine and murmured, "One day, he will wear white."

Florentino Pérez sat quietly, watching Alessandro Inzaghi with a calculating gaze. The young Italian, oblivious to the legendary football figure's presence, continued chatting with his father, completely immersed in the joy of his 18th birthday dinner.

Pérez, however, had already made up his mind. Just as he had done with Zinedine Zidane at the UEFA Awards Gala in 2000, he called over a waiter and discreetly scribbled something on a napkin before handing it over.

The waiter, slightly confused but not about to question one of the most powerful men in football, carefully walked across the restaurant and placed the napkin beside Alessandro's plate.

Alessandro, mid-bite, blinked at the sudden delivery. "Uh… what's this?"

Filippo, equally puzzled, gestured for him to open it.

As Alessandro unfolded the napkin, his eyes widened at the handwritten message:

"Would you want to play for Real Madrid, one day?"

His gaze immediately shot across the terrace, where he locked eyes with Florentino Pérez, the president of Real Madrid himself. Pérez, ever the composed strategist, simply gave him a knowing smile and a slight nod.

Alessandro felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He turned to his father.

"Papà… what do I even say to this?" he whispered.

Filippo, an AC Milan legend himself, exhaled and studied the napkin carefully. He then tapped his finger on the words "one day."

"This isn't an offer," he pointed out. "It's a question about the future. A future you'll decide."

Alessandro took a deep breath, his mind racing. He had grown up at AC Milan, the club that had given him everything. He had won the Serie A, the Coppa Italia, and had taken them to the Champions League Final. But Real Madrid… that was the biggest club in the world.

After a few seconds of thought, he picked up a pen and wrote a simple response beneath Pérez's message:

"Yes."

The waiter returned and, without a word, took the napkin back to Pérez. The Real Madrid president unfolded it, read the reply, and smiled knowingly. He then folded the napkin neatly and slipped it into his jacket pocket, as if securing a promise for the future.

Florentino Pérez had just planted the seed.

Alessandro Inzaghi was still an AC Milan player. But one day, he would wear white.

Florentino Pérez leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk forming as he tucked the napkin away. Alessandro Inzaghi had said yes. Not for now, but one day. That was enough for Pérez.

Sánchez, who had been observing the exchange, chuckled softly. "You really are relentless, Florentino."

Pérez took another sip of his wine, his eyes still flickering toward Alessandro. "Vision is what separates great clubs from the rest. We don't wait for opportunities—we create them."

Sánchez nodded, but then something came to mind. "You do realize… Alessandro plays in the same position as Karim Benzema?"

For the first time that evening, Pérez paused, setting his glass down thoughtfully.

Karim Benzema, Real Madrid's No. 9, was still in his prime. Though often overshadowed by Cristiano Ronaldo, the French striker was crucial to Madrid's system, linking play and creating space for the team's attackers. Alessandro, on the other hand, was a clinical, goal-hungry forward—more like a hybrid of his father Filippo and a young Ronaldo Nazário.

Pérez exhaled slowly. "Yes… but Benzema won't be here forever."

Sánchez smirked. "You're thinking ahead again."

Pérez nodded. "Alessandro is 18. Benzema is still important for us, but in a few years… when the time is right, we make our move."

Sánchez chuckled. "You always play the long game, don't you?"

Florentino Pérez simply smiled. One day, Alessandro Inzaghi would be a Real Madrid player. He was certain of it.

Florentino Pérez swirled his wine in his glass, his mind already moving pieces like a chessboard. Alessandro Inzaghi had said yes—not for now, but one day—and that was all the opening he needed.

After a moment of silence, he turned to José Ángel Sánchez.

"Tell me… do you think Milan would accept a deal where we offer money and Benzema for Alessandro?"

Sánchez raised an eyebrow. "You're thinking of making a move already?"

Pérez sighed, leaning forward. "Barcelona just won another treble. They're on top of the world. Real Madrid needs to save face in the upcoming season. We need a big signing, someone who can shift the narrative back to us."

Sánchez exhaled, considering it. "Benzema is in his prime. He still has a few good years left. Milan needs an experienced striker to compete in the Champions League next season… It could be tempting for them."

Pérez nodded. "Exactly. Alessandro is their future, but if we offer them a world-class forward and a massive transfer fee, they may think twice."

Sánchez leaned back, deep in thought. "Milan would be hesitant. He's their golden boy. He grew up there."

Pérez smirked. "That's why we plant the idea now. We make them doubt. We make them wonder if it's the right move."

Sánchez chuckled, shaking his head. "Florentino, you really are relentless."

Pérez simply smiled. If there was even a small chance of bringing Alessandro to Madrid now, he would take it.

[xXx]

Florentino Pérez tapped his fingers against the table, his mind still calculating. Offering Benzema plus cash to Milan for Alessandro Inzaghi was a bold idea, but if he was going to truly commit to the pursuit, he needed to know something first.

He turned to José Ángel Sánchez, his most trusted advisor.

"Tell me… how big is Alessandro's image across the world?"

Sánchez smirked, as if he had been waiting for that question. He pulled out his phone, quickly navigating through some reports before looking up.

"Florentino… you're not going to believe this."

Pérez raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

Sánchez leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"After just two years in professional football, Alessandro Inzaghi is already the third most-followed footballer in the world on social media—only behind Messi and Ronaldo."

Pérez's eyes widened slightly, the first real sign of surprise from the Real Madrid president that night.

"Third? Already?"

Sánchez nodded. "The World Cup made him a global star. Winning the Golden Ball, Young Player of the Tournament, and Golden Boot at just 17? People love him. Then he helped Milan win Serie A and reach the Champions League Final in the same season. His story is irresistible—heir to a legend, the face of Milan, a teenage prodigy."

Pérez exhaled slowly, absorbing the information.

"If he's already this big… imagine what happens if he wears white."

Sánchez grinned. "Exactly. Alessandro Inzaghi at Real Madrid would be a marketing goldmine. He's young, talented, and adored worldwide. In a few years, when Messi and Ronaldo start declining… he could be the one to carry football into the next era."

Pérez chuckled, shaking his head in admiration. "This boy… he's only 18 and already a global superstar. Milan won't give him up easily."

Sánchez smirked. "Maybe not. But every player dreams of Madrid. And he already said yes… one day."

Pérez sat back, deep in thought. If Alessandro was this popular already, then there was no question—he had to be a Real Madrid player. Maybe not now, but soon.

Florentino Pérez had made up his mind. The pursuit of Alessandro Inzaghi had officially begun.

[xXx]

As the warm glow of candlelight flickered across their table, Alessandro and Filippo Inzaghi sat back, savoring the final moments of their birthday dinner. The conversation had shifted from football politics to something more enjoyable—reliving legendary moments from their careers.

Filippo smirked, swirling his drink before leaning in. "Alright, let's play a game. Best moment of our careers. I'll start."

Alessandro raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

Filippo leaned back with a grin. "Has to be the 2007 Champions League Final against Liverpool. Two goals, revenge for 2005, and Milan crowned champions of Europe. That was my greatest night."

Alessandro nodded in respect. "Yeah, that was legendary. You carried Milan that night."

Filippo chuckled. "Your turn, ragazzo."

Alessandro thought for a second, then smirked. "Easy. The bicycle kick from 30 yards against Juventus."

Filippo's eyes widened slightly, and he let out a laugh. "Ahh, sì, sì! That goal was ridiculous."

Alessandro grinned, leaning forward. "Puskás Award, baby. 2013 Ballon d'Or ceremony. That goal officially introduced me to the world."

He sat back with pride, remembering that night vividly. A 16-year-old kid, going up against one of the best defenses in Europe, and pulling off a moment of magic that had the entire world talking.

Filippo nodded. "It wasn't just the goal. It was against Juventus. Against Buffon. And you did it like it was nothing."

Alessandro smirked. "Exactly. If I'm going to announce myself, it better be in style."

Filippo shook his head with a laugh. "Damn kid, you really were born for this."

The two shared a knowing look—a father and son, both legends in their own right, sharing stories that would live on forever.

Filippo leaned back in his chair, still shaking his head at the memory of that bicycle kick against Juventus. Taking a sip of his drink, he suddenly furrowed his brow and looked at Alessandro with curiosity.

"By the way… where is your Puskás Award?" he asked. "I never see it in your room or anywhere around the house."

Alessandro smirked, clearly expecting the question. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

"You mean, was I even allowed to keep it?" he joked.

Filippo chuckled. "Well, yeah! That's an award for one of the greatest goals of all time, and I haven't seen it once in our house."

Alessandro sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I donated it."

Filippo blinked. "You what?"

Alessandro smiled. "I gave it to Casa Milan. The club museum. I figured it belonged there more than anywhere else."

Filippo stared at him for a moment before letting out a proud chuckle. "So you're telling me, if I want to see my son's Puskás Award, I have to buy a ticket to the museum?"

Alessandro laughed. "Pretty much! But hey, I wanted Milan fans to enjoy it too. That goal wasn't just mine—it was for the club, for the fans, for history."

Filippo smiled, shaking his head. "That's a classy move, Ale."

Alessandro shrugged. "Besides, I plan on winning another one."

Filippo burst into laughter, patting his son on the back. "That's the spirit."

Filippo smirked, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, alright, you donated the Puskás Award to Casa Milan… but what about your Golden Boy Award from the 2014 Ballon d'Or ceremony?"

Alessandro grinned, knowing exactly where this was going. "Ah, that one?" He leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes.

Filippo nodded. "Yeah, the award that basically confirmed you as the best young player in the world. Where is it? Because I haven't seen that one either."

Alessandro chuckled. "Relax, Papà. That one's safe."

Filippo crossed his arms. "Safe where?"

Alessandro smirked. "Grandpa Giancarlo's house."

Filippo's eyes widened slightly before he let out a small laugh. "You gave your Golden Boy Award to my father?"

Alessandro shrugged. "Yeah! I mean, he's the one who always tells me, 'Stay humble, keep your feet on the ground.' I figured I'd leave it with him as a reminder that I'll never let success get to my head."

Filippo chuckled, shaking his head. "So, let me get this straight… Your Puskás Award is in Casa Milan. Your Golden Boy Award is at Nonno's house." He raised an eyebrow. "Do you even keep any of your trophies?"

Alessandro laughed. "Only the ones I don't plan on giving away!"

Filippo sighed, still amused. "Unbelievable."

Alessandro grinned. "Come on, Papà. It's just the beginning. There will be more trophies to come."

Filippo smirked. "You'd better be right about that, ragazzo."

Filippo shook his head with a chuckle, still trying to process his son's habit of giving away his trophies. But before he could tease him any further, Alessandro leaned forward with a smug grin.

"Alright, Papà. Your turn again. Another legendary moment."

Filippo smirked. "Okay. 2006 World Cup. I didn't play much, but when I did, I scored against the Czech Republic in the group stage. I rounded the keeper, just like I used to do in training, and slotted it home. Classic Inzaghi."

Alessandro nodded with respect. "A World Cup goal is always special."

Filippo pointed at him. "Your turn."

Alessandro's smirk grew wider. "Oh, this is an easy one. Four goals. Against Brazil. In a World Cup match."

Filippo leaned back, laughing. "Ohh, here we go. The 2014 third-place playoff."

Alessandro nodded proudly. "Italy vs. Brazil. One of the biggest fixtures in football history. And I put four past them."

Filippo shook his head in admiration. "That was insane. I remember thinking, 'This kid is writing his own history.'"

Alessandro laughed. "And the best part? The celebrations."

Filippo grinned. "Oh yeah, you did every iconic Brazilian celebration in front of Brazil's own fans!"

Alessandro beamed. "Had to! I had to pay my respects—Brazil has legendary strikers. So, for each goal, I did a different one."

He raised one finger. "First goal – Ronaldinho's samba dance, from the penalty spot."

Filippo burst out laughing. "I remember! You scored, then did that goofy samba dance with a huge grin."

Alessandro raised a second finger. "Second goal – Bebeto's baby cradle celebration, just like 1994."

Filippo smirked. "Ahh, a classic. The cameras loved it."

Alessandro raised a third finger. "Third goal – Romário's one-hand point to the sky."

Filippo whistled. "That was smooth. Romário would've been proud."

Finally, Alessandro raised a fourth finger. "Fourth goal – The original R9 Ronaldo finger-wag celebration."

Filippo leaned forward, grinning. "Now that one—that one—made headlines. The Brazilian fans were furious, but the world loved it."

Alessandro chuckled. "Hey, I had to honor R9, the best striker ever."

Filippo smirked. "Well, you certainly made Brazil remember your name that night."

Alessandro grinned. "And that bronze medal? That one, I actually kept."

Filippo laughed, shaking his head. "Good. Because you earned it, ragazzo."

Filippo leaned back in his chair, still laughing from their back-and-forth about Alessandro's four-goal masterclass against Brazil. But before he could bring up another moment from his own career, Alessandro smirked and leaned forward.

"Alright, Papà… this one is fresh. Probably the craziest moment of my career so far."

Filippo raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Let's hear it."

Alessandro's smirk widened. "*2014/15 season. Final matchday. AC Milan and Juventus—*level on points."

Filippo grinned, immediately knowing where this was going. "Ahh… that goal."

Alessandro nodded. "Both of us were winning our matches. But Juventus had a 1 goal difference over us. If it ended like that, they'd be champions."

Filippo chuckled. "And then?"

Alessandro's eyes gleamed. "90th minute. Injury time." He leaned forward dramatically. "Chaos in the box. The ball gets cleared—only for it to fall perfectly for me at the edge of the area."

Filippo's grin widened. "Troy Deeney moment."

Alessandro snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Just like Deeney's goal for Watford vs. Leicester in the playoffs. No hesitation—I just smashed it first-time."

Filippo leaned back, exhaling in admiration. "And San Siro… exploded."

Alessandro nodded. "The net bulged, the stadium erupted, and I sprinted to the corner flag—shirt off, arms wide open."

Filippo laughed. "That was your Aguero moment!"

Alessandro grinned. "Even better—because that goal didn't just win us the match. It won us the Scudetto."

Filippo shook his head in amazement. "One goal. One goal difference. That's what made Milan champions over Juventus."

Alessandro nodded, still feeling the electricity of that moment. "One goal separated everything. If I hadn't scored, Juventus would have lifted the trophy."

Filippo smiled with pride. "That goal—that moment—is something Milan fans will never forget."

Alessandro exhaled, leaning back. "Yeah… that one's going in my legacy."

Filippo smirked. "Damn right, it is."

Filippo took another sip of his drink, still grinning after reliving Alessandro's Scudetto-winning goal. But Alessandro wasn't done yet. He leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Alright, Papà… here's another one. 2014 World Cup. Italy vs. Uruguay."

Filippo smirked. "Oh, this one."

Alessandro nodded. "Yeah… the day I got a red card for doing the right thing."

Filippo chuckled. "I still remember watching in disbelief."

Alessandro leaned back, recalling the chaotic moment. "Second half. Tight match. Out of nowhere, I hear Chiellini shouting in pain. I turn around and see Luis Suárez holding his mouth."

Filippo shook his head. "And you instantly knew."

Alessandro nodded. "Yeah. I saw the teeth marks on Chiellini's shoulder, and I just lost it. I ran over and shoved Suárez away from him."

Filippo smirked. "That shove sent him flying."

Alessandro shrugged. "He went down like I had just punched him. And the ref? Straight red."

Filippo sighed. "And meanwhile, Suárez didn't even get booked."

Alessandro scoffed. "Exactly! I was furious. We lost the game. I thought my World Cup was over."

Filippo leaned in. "And then?"

Alessandro smirked. "Then FIFA reviewed everything. After the match, they saw the footage. Saw the bite marks on Chiellini. Saw that I was just defending my teammate."

Filippo nodded. "And that's when FIFA dropped the hammer on Suárez."

Alessandro grinned. "Yup. Four-month ban. Banned from all football till October."

Filippo chuckled. "And your red card?"

Alessandro smirked. "Retracted. Like it never even happened."

Filippo laughed. "That's got to be the first time in history a red card got erased after the match was over."

Alessandro grinned. "Hey, it was worth it. Nobody bites my teammates and gets away with it."

Filippo shook his head in admiration. "That was a leader's moment. You were only 17, but that day… you showed the world that you don't back down."

Alessandro smiled. "Yeah… I don't just score goals. I protect my own."

Back across the restaurant, Florentino Pérez sat deep in thought, swirling his glass of wine as he and his colleague continued their discussion. His eyes flickered toward Alessandro Inzaghi, who was still laughing and reminiscing with his father.

His colleague, a senior figure at Real Madrid, leaned in slightly. "You know, President, there's one more thing about Inzaghi that stands out."

Pérez glanced at him. "What is it?"

The man folded his hands. "Compared to Benzema... he's far less controversial."

Pérez raised an eyebrow, considering the statement.

The colleague continued, "No off-field scandals, no questionable entourage, no drama. He's clean—no legal issues, no controversies. Just football."

Pérez slowly nodded, his mind turning. "The perfect poster boy. A role model."

His colleague smiled. "Exactly. If you want to build the future of Madrid around someone, you'd want it to be a player who is not only talented but also marketable, respected, and globally adored. Inzaghi checks every box."

Pérez leaned back, exhaling as he gazed at Alessandro. He had already confirmed that Inzaghi was the third most followed footballer behind Messi and Ronaldo. Now, the realization hit him—this was a superstar with no baggage. No controversy. No risk.

A player like that? Perfect for Real Madrid.

Florentino Pérez set his glass down with a decisive clink. His eyes, sharp with intent, never left Alessandro Inzaghi.

His colleague, sensing the shift in his demeanor, asked, "President?"

Pérez exhaled slowly, then nodded. "That's it. I've made up my mind."

The colleague leaned in, intrigued.

"The goal for the 2015 summer transfer window… is bringing Alessandro Inzaghi to Real Madrid."

The words carried weight, a declaration of intent from the most powerful man in football.

His colleague smiled knowingly. "And how do you plan to do it? Milan won't let him go easily."

Pérez smirked. "Everyone has a price."

He took another sip of wine before adding, "This won't be just another signing. This will be a statement. We will do whatever it takes to make him a Galáctico."

The mission was clear. Real Madrid wanted Alessandro Inzaghi.

And Pérez? He would stop at nothing to make it happen.

As Alessandro took another bite of his meal, enjoying the luxurious atmosphere of the five-star restaurant, he suddenly noticed his father staring at him with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Filippo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So, Alessandro… tell me about your love life."

Alessandro nearly choked on his food. He coughed, reaching for his water as his father chuckled. "Wh-what? Where did that come from?"

Filippo shrugged. "What? I'm your father. I can't ask?"

Alessandro wiped his mouth and sighed. "I just… wasn't expecting that. One second we're talking about football, then suddenly—boom! 'Tell me about your love life.'"

Filippo smirked. "Well, you're turning 18 soon. You're rich, famous, and the third most followed footballer in the world. I'd be shocked if you didn't have someone special in your life."

Alessandro leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, Papà, I'm too busy. Football, training, matches… there's barely time for anything else."

Filippo nodded. "That makes sense… but come on, there has to be someone. A crush? A girl who's caught your eye?"

Alessandro hesitated for a moment, then smirked. "Maybe."

Filippo's eyes lit up. "Ah-ha! I knew it. Who is she?"

Alessandro chuckled. "You're worse than the media, you know that?"

Filippo laughed. "Hey, I'm just curious! I was your age once too, you know."

Alessandro shook his head, grinning. "Alright, alright… there might be someone, but it's nothing serious. Just… a girl I've talked to a few times."

Filippo raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Alessandro smirked. "And… that's all you're getting for now."

Filippo groaned dramatically. "Come on, Alessandro! Give me something!"

Alessandro laughed. "Maybe next time, Papà. Maybe next time."

Filippo's amused expression softened as he noticed the change in Alessandro's tone. His son wasn't just being evasive—he was genuinely frustrated.

"My own fame is a curse when it comes to finding love," Alessandro admitted, staring at his glass. "At least Mom found you back when you were just a promising young player. She loved you before you became a superstar. Me? I've got to be careful of sharks."

Filippo sighed, nodding in understanding. "It's different for you. Your life is under a microscope. You can't tell who's real and who just wants the status."

Alessandro nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I liked Kendall at first, but then I found out she was already dating a basketball player. So that was that."

Filippo raised an eyebrow. "And after that?"

Alessandro scoffed. "Groupies. Girls who only see the money, the fame, the lifestyle. They don't care about me—just 'Alessandro Inzaghi, the footballer.'"

Filippo placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "You're right to be cautious. Love isn't easy to find in our world. But when it's real, you'll know."

Alessandro gave a small smile. "I hope so, Papà. I really do."

Filippo furrowed his brows, leaning back in his chair as he processed what Alessandro had just said. After a moment, he shook his head and asked, "But why? Why are there girls like that in the first place?"

Alessandro exhaled, swirling his drink in thought. "Because, Papà, money and fame are like magnets. Some people see them as shortcuts to an easy life. They don't care about the person—just what being with that person gives them."

Filippo sighed. "It's sad, really. Love should be about connection, not what someone can take from you."

Alessandro nodded. "Exactly. But that's not how it works for people like us. When you're famous, you're a prize to some, not a person."

Filippo looked at his son thoughtfully. "I never had to deal with that when I was young. Your mother loved me before I ever became 'Pippo Inzaghi.'"

Alessandro smiled softly. "Yeah. That's the kind of love I want. But I know it won't be easy to find."

Filippo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You'll find it one day. Just don't let the wrong people change the way you see love."

Alessandro nodded. "I won't. I just have to be careful… careful of sharks."

[xXx]

As Alessandro and Filippo pulled up to their luxurious hotel, the younger Inzaghi let out a satisfied sigh, rubbing his stomach. "That was a good meal," he admitted.

Filippo smirked. "Only the best for my son's birthday."

After thanking the valet, they made their way up to their suite. Filippo soon retired to his room, but Alessandro wasn't feeling sleepy just yet. Lying on his bed, he grabbed his phone and opened YouTube, wondering if anyone had made new videos about him.

Sure enough, when he typed in his name, countless results appeared. Goal compilations, analysis videos, highlight reels—all centered around him. But one video caught his attention:

"Alessandro Inzaghi: The Rise to Fame"

Curious, he tapped on it.

The video started with dramatic music, showing clips of him celebrating goals, lifting trophies, and tearing defenses apart. A voiceover narrated:

"Born into football royalty, Alessandro Inzaghi had the world watching from the very beginning. The son of Filippo Inzaghi, a Champions League-winning legend, expectations were sky-high. But no one could have predicted just how quickly he would carve his own legacy."

The video then cut to his early days in AC Milan's academy, showing old training clips and youth matches where he first showcased his goal-scoring instinct.

"From a young age, Alessandro had a natural talent for finding the back of the net. Coaches at AC Milan's youth academy described him as 'a prodigy beyond his years.'"

Alessandro smirked, remembering those days. He had always been obsessed with scoring goals, just like his father.

Then, the video flashed back to 2003—an old clip of a little six-year-old Alessandro in the stands of Old Trafford, watching his father and AC Milan win the UEFA Champions League against Juventus.

The screen then showed a blurry post-match interview with a young Alessandro speaking into a microphone, his voice small but full of admiration.

"My papa is the best striker in the world! I want to be just like him when I grow up!"

Alessandro froze, staring at the screen in disbelief. He barely even remembered saying that.

He couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "Dio mio… I was really saying stuff like that?"

The video continued, transitioning to his explosive debut with AC Milan, his record-breaking 2013/14 season, and his iconic performances at the 2014 World Cup.

"But Alessandro wasn't just following in his father's footsteps. He was blazing his own trail. At just 16, he became AC Milan's main striker, won the Serie A Golden Boot, and carried Milan to a Coppa Italia victory. And by the time he was 17, he was the Golden Ball winner of the FIFA World Cup. This was no ordinary rise—this was the birth of a new legend."

Alessandro leaned back, absorbing everything. It was surreal to see his life documented like this. From a little boy cheering for his father to becoming one of the biggest stars in football…

He smiled to himself. "Well… I guess I really did become like you, Papà."

Curious to see how people reacted to the video, Alessandro scrolled down to the comments section.

The top comments were full of praise for him and the YouTuber's storytelling:

"Alessandro's rise is like something out of a movie. To think he was just a kid watching his dad in 2003, and now he's one of the best players in the world."

"This is why I love football. Stories like Alessandro's make the game beautiful."

"Massive respect to the YouTuber for putting this together. The editing, the narration, the history—everything is top-tier!"

"People forget how young he is. Man is only 18 and has already done more than most players dream of in their entire careers!"

Alessandro smiled. The video really captured his journey well, and he felt like the creator deserved some recognition.

So, he decided to leave a comment:

"Wow… this video is incredible. Never thought I'd see my life told like this. Huge respect to you for putting this together! "

He didn't think much of it at first, but within minutes, the comment exploded with likes and replies.

"NO WAY! THE MAN HIMSELF COMMENTED! "

"Alessandro actually saw this? Bro, this is insane!"

"Respect for showing love to the YouTuber, man. This is why you're my favorite player!"

"GOAT recognized GOAT. This is legendary."

Even the YouTuber himself responded, pinning Alessandro's comment at the top of the section:

"Alessandro, I can't believe you saw this! Thank you so much for watching, man. Your journey is inspiring, and I'm honored to have made this video. Wishing you even more success! "

Alessandro chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn… I wasn't expecting that."

He refreshed the page, and his comment kept getting more likes, more replies, more reactions.

For a moment, he just sat there, appreciating the love from fans and even strangers who admired his story. He wasn't just a footballer—he was someone people truly looked up to.

With a satisfied grin, he locked his phone, stretched out on his bed, and thought to himself:

"Maybe this fame thing isn't all bad."

Feeling excited after the overwhelming love from the last video, Alessandro scrolled through YouTube again, searching for more content about himself.

That's when he spotted another video with an intriguing title:

"Introduced to the World – Alessandro Inzaghi's Legendary 2014 World Cup Run"

The thumbnail was a stunning image of him lifting the Golden Boot and Golden Ball trophies, draped in the Italian flag, with the Maracanã stadium glowing behind him.

Intrigued, he tapped on the video.

The video began with an epic narration:

"Some players make their debuts and slowly work their way to the top. Others… are simply born for the grandest stages. Alessandro Inzaghi was one of them. At just 17 years old, he arrived in Brazil as Italy's newest prodigy. But by the time the tournament was over, he had become a legend."

The video cut to footage of Alessandro stepping off the team bus in Brazil, surrounded by cameras and reporters, his youthful face full of focus.

Then, a montage of his best moments played to dramatic music:

His stunning long-range goal against England in the group stage

The quick turn and finish past Casillas to sink Spain in the Round of 16

His legendary solo goal against the Netherlands in the quarterfinals, dribbling past defenders before calmly slotting it home

"One by one, Alessandro tore through the world's best. But it was in the third-place match against Brazil where he truly wrote his name into history."

The screen flashed to his iconic four-goal performance against Brazil, the Maracanã crowd stunned into silence.

His no-look penalty, celebrating like Ronaldinho

The classic 1994 Bebeto and Romário celebration after his second

His third, a perfectly placed curler that kissed the post

And his fourth, where he rounded the goalkeeper and tapped it in before doing R9 Ronaldo's famous finger-wag celebration

"A 17-year-old, standing in the heart of Brazil, outshining the very legends that had once dominated this stage. The world had no choice but to take notice."

The video then cut to him receiving the Golden Boot and Golden Ball, standing among football's elite, the youngest player ever to do so.

Alessandro felt chills watching it all play out. It had only been a year, but seeing it this way made it feel even more unreal.

He scrolled down to the comments and found even more praise:

"This was the tournament where Alessandro became a household name."

"No 17-year-old should be playing like this. This was NEXT LEVEL."

"Bro really went to Brazil and started doing THEIR celebrations against them. Ice cold."

"I remember watching this live… felt like we were witnessing history."

"One of the greatest individual World Cup runs EVER. And he was only 17."

Feeling nostalgic, Alessandro decided to comment on the video:

"Wow… watching this gave me chills. I'll never forget that World Cup. Thank you for making this, truly amazing work! "

Just like before, his comment blew up instantly. The video's creator even replied:

"THE LEGEND HIMSELF COMMENTED! Alessandro, you gave us one of the greatest World Cup performances ever. Thank you for watching!"

Alessandro chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Man… that really was my 'Welcome to the World' moment."

Curious about what people had to say about his 2014/15 season, Alessandro kept scrolling through YouTube. That's when he came across a video titled:

"More Brazilian Than Neymar? The Magic of Alessandro Inzaghi (2014/15)"

The title alone made him raise an eyebrow and chuckle.

He clicked play, and instantly, the video showed clips of him gliding past defenders, pulling off outrageous tricks, and scoring jaw-dropping goals—all while rocking his ponytail and headband, just like Ronaldinho once did for AC Milan.

"In football, there are players who entertain, and then there are those who make the game an art form. In the 2014/15 season, Alessandro Inzaghi became a magician. With flair, technique, and impossible goals, he wasn't just playing like an Italian striker… he was playing like a Brazilian legend."

The footage cut to side-by-side comparisons of him and Ronaldinho, showing similarities in their dribbling, no-look passes, and even their signature way of spreading their arms out after an outrageous goal.

Then, came the boldest claim of the video:

"In fact, that season, Alessandro Inzaghi played with so much samba, so much flair, that he was arguably more Brazilian than Neymar himself—even though he lost to him in the UCL Final."

The video played footage of Alessandro doing tricks against Juventus, Roma, Inter, and even Barcelona, as the narrator continued:

"Neymar was already one of the world's best. But while he had Messi and Suárez by his side, Alessandro carried Milan on his back. His dribbles were fearless. His goals? Unreal. His style? Pure entertainment."

Alessandro shook his head and laughed.

"Man, people really took my Ronaldinho look and ran with it."

He scrolled down to the comments, and as expected, fans were going crazy:

"The ponytail. The headband. The skills. Alessandro was literally an honorary Brazilian that season."

"Dude was cooking defenders like prime Ronaldinho. And he was only 17?"

"That elastico against Roma was DISRESPECTFUL. Had defenders questioning life."

"He may have lost the UCL Final, but let's be honest, Alessandro was the MVP of entertainment in 2014/15."

"If Alessandro ever played in Brazil, they'd claim him as one of their own lmao."

Feeling amused, Alessandro decided to leave a comment:

"Hahaha, this is hilarious. Never thought I'd be called 'more Brazilian than Neymar.' But man, that season was special. Appreciate the love! "

Once again, his comment exploded with likes and replies, and the YouTuber pinned his comment with a response:

"NO WAY, THE MAN HIMSELF COMMENTED! Alessandro, you were unreal that season. A true entertainer. Thank you for watching, legend! "

Alessandro grinned, shaking his head.

"Guess I had a little bit of Joga Bonito in me after all."

After a relaxing June in Greece, Alessandro and Filippo arrived at Milan Malpensa Airport, the familiar sights of their home city greeting them. As they drove back to their house, Alessandro gazed out of the window, already thinking about the upcoming 2015/16 season.

That night, they shared dinner together, talking about their trip and their plans for the next season. Alessandro was excited to build on the success of the last year, eager to push himself even further.

[xXx]

The next morning, Alessandro woke up early, full of determination. His goal was clear: get better, get stronger, get faster. He laced up his running shoes and headed out for his usual morning run, weaving through the quiet Milan streets, his mind focused on the season ahead.

But when he returned home, sweating and feeling refreshed, he found his father waiting for him at the kitchen table, breakfast ready. Filippo's face was serious.

"Ale… we need to talk."

And that's when he heard the news—AC Milan wasn't going to re-sign him.

As Alessandro returned from his morning run, still sweating but feeling refreshed, he smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen. His father, Filippo, had made breakfast—freshly brewed coffee, scrambled eggs, and toast.

"Didn't know you were a chef, Papà," Alessandro teased as he grabbed a plate.

Filippo chuckled, but there was a weight behind his smile. "Well, gotta keep myself busy, huh?"

Alessandro sat down, still catching his breath. "Something wrong?"

Filippo hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Milan's not renewing my contract."

Alessandro froze mid-bite. "Wait… what?"

"They told me this morning," Filippo continued, keeping his voice steady. "Even after we won the Scudetto and Coppa Italia… they've decided to go in a different direction."

For a moment, Alessandro didn't know how to react. His father had just delivered Milan their first league title since 2011, yet they were letting him go?

"That makes no sense," Alessandro finally said, his brows furrowed. "You brought the club back to glory in just one season. You got them their 19th Scudetto! What else do they want?"

Filippo gave a small shrug. "Football is cruel sometimes. You should know that by now."

Alessandro clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling inside him. His father had given everything to Milan—first as a legendary player, then as a coach. And now, they were tossing him aside just like that?

Filippo placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "It's okay, Ale. I knew this was a possibility. I'll be fine."

Alessandro exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It's just… unfair."

Filippo chuckled, though there was sadness in his eyes. "Unfair? Welcome to the world of football."

The room fell silent for a moment. Alessandro looked down at his plate, suddenly not as hungry as before.

His father was putting on a brave face, but Alessandro knew deep down—this hurt.

After finishing breakfast, Alessandro decided to check his Instagram. As he scrolled through his feed, a post from AC Milan's official account caught his eye. The club had announced their new manager for the 2015/16 season: Siniša Mihajlović.

Mihajlović, who had previously managed Sampdoria, was known for his disciplined approach and emphasis on strong defensive organization. His appointment signaled a new direction for the club, aiming to build upon the successes of the previous season.

Alessandro stared at the screen, processing the news. He couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—curiosity about the new manager's plans and a lingering disappointment over how his father had been treated.

Curious about the fans' reaction, Alessandro tapped on the comments section of AC Milan's post. As expected, the reactions were mixed—some were optimistic, while others were furious about how Filippo had been let go.

Top Comments:

MilanistaForever: "Siniša Mihajlović? Not a bad coach, but sacking Filippo after winning the Scudetto and Coppa Italia? Unbelievable. No loyalty in football anymore."

RossoneriFedele: "We needed a defensive-minded coach, and Mihajlović fits that. But I still think Pippo deserved another season at least!"

CurvaSudLegend: "I feel bad for Alessandro… Imagine playing under your father, winning everything, and then watching him get replaced. Must be tough."

FootballGuru99: "Mihajlović is a disciplinarian, but will he be able to manage young stars like Alessandro? This will be interesting."

WeAreMilan: "Regardless of how you feel about this, we have to support the team. Forza Milan!"

Alessandro sighed, setting his phone down. He appreciated the support from the fans, but it didn't change the reality—his father was no longer the manager of AC Milan.

This season was going to feel… different.

Filippo took a sip of his coffee, watching Alessandro as he set his phone down. He could tell his son wasn't happy about the club's decision, but there was nothing they could do now.

With a deep breath, he finally spoke. "Listen, Ale… I need to go meet with my agent."

Alessandro looked up. "Your agent?"

Filippo nodded. "Yeah. We need to start looking at my options. If Milan doesn't want me, then I have to find a new club."

Alessandro's chest tightened at the thought. He had grown used to having his father close by, not just as his coach but as someone who truly understood him on and off the pitch.

"Do you know where you want to go?" Alessandro asked.

Filippo sighed. "Not sure yet. But I can't stay unemployed for long. You know me—I need to be on the pitch, whether as a player or a coach."

Alessandro forced a small smile. "Yeah… you're not exactly the 'sit at home and relax' type."

Filippo chuckled. "Exactly." He then placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "But don't worry about me, Ale. You focus on your football. I'll figure things out."

Alessandro nodded, though he still felt uneasy. His father was about to start a new chapter in his life—and deep down, he wondered if he might have to do the same sooner than expected.

[xXx]

After leaving home, Alessandro drove to Milanello, AC Milan's renowned training ground. He needed to clear his head, and for him, there was no better therapy than football.

The air was crisp, the morning sun casting long shadows over the pristine grass. Despite it being the off-season, a few staff members were present, maintaining the facilities and working with players who wanted extra training. Alessandro changed into his workout gear and walked towards the private gym, his mind still replaying his father's words from earlier that morning.

"If Milan doesn't want me, I have to find a new club."

Those words stung more than he wanted to admit. His father had poured his heart into Milan—first as a player, then as a coach—only to be discarded. The thought unsettled Alessandro, but he pushed it aside as he stepped into the gym, determined to channel his frustration into something productive.

He grabbed his phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Marco, you at Milanello?"

A pause, then a familiar voice replied. "Yeah, I just finished with another player. You need a session?"

"Yeah," Alessandro exhaled. "Strength training."

"I'll be there in five."

A short while later, Marco arrived, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. A veteran personal trainer, Marco had worked with Alessandro since his academy days and knew his limits better than most.

"Alright, Ale," Marco said, setting up the weights. "Let's get to work."

For the next hour, Alessandro pushed himself harder than usual—heavier weights, longer reps, shorter breaks. Marco noticed, but didn't comment. Instead, he let Alessandro burn through his frustration.

Finally, during a water break, Marco leaned against the squat rack, arms crossed.

"You've been training harder than usual," he observed. "Trying to clear your mind?"

Alessandro, still catching his breath, took a sip of water before nodding. "Yeah… something like that."

Marco gave him a knowing look. "It's about your dad, isn't it?"

Alessandro exhaled slowly, gripping the water bottle tighter. "I still can't believe it. He won the Scudetto and the Coppa Italia, and they just let him go like that. He helped us get to the UCL Final!"

Marco sighed. "Football is a business before anything else, Ale. Doesn't matter how much history you have with a club—if they think they can do better, they'll make a change."

Alessandro clenched his jaw. "Still doesn't make it right."

Marco placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I get it. But your dad is a legend. He'll land on his feet."

Alessandro nodded, though his thoughts were still heavy. What if something like that happened to him one day?

Little did he know, at that very moment, Real Madrid had just sent their first offer to AC Milan for him.

[xXx]

After wrapping up his intense training session at Milanello, Alessandro took a cold shower in the facility's locker room, hoping to cool off both his body and his mind. The session had helped him vent his frustration, but as he changed into fresh clothes, his thoughts drifted back to reality.

His father was no longer AC Milan's manager.

It still didn't feel real. Filippo had delivered a Scudetto and a Coppa Italia, yet the club had chosen to part ways with him. Alessandro had always known football was ruthless, but this was the first time he had truly felt it on a personal level.

He grabbed his phone from his locker, wondering if there were any updates about the club's decision. Instead, as he unlocked the screen, he noticed something else—a notification.

A missed call from his father.

Alessandro exhaled sharply. He hadn't even realized his father had tried to reach him. With a quick swipe, he called back.

"Hey, Dad," he said when Filippo answered almost instantly.

"Alessandro. I was just about to call you again," Filippo's voice was calm but carried a hint of something unspoken.

"What's up?"

"I'll tell you when you get home."

Alessandro frowned slightly. "Is it bad?"

"No," Filippo assured him. "Just come home, we'll talk."

That didn't exactly ease his curiosity, but Alessandro didn't press further. "Alright. I'm heading back now."

Ending the call, he grabbed his bag and left Milanello, getting into his car. As he drove through the familiar streets of Milan, his mind ran through possibilities. Was it about his father's future? Had he already found a new club?

By the time he pulled into their driveway, the sun had started to set. Alessandro stepped out of the car, still feeling the exhaustion from training, but now his curiosity was at its peak. He walked into the house, dropping his bag near the entrance.

[xXx]

The smell of cooking filled the air, and as he entered the kitchen, he saw Filippo at the stove, casually stirring a pot of pasta. His father turned to look at him and smiled.

"How was training?" Filippo asked, just like he always did.

Alessandro shrugged, leaning against the counter. "Good. Just needed to clear my head."

Filippo nodded, setting the spoon down before turning to face him fully.

"By the way…" Filippo said, crossing his arms. "I found a job."

Alessandro's eyes widened. "Already?"

Filippo chuckled. "You sound surprised."

"Well, yeah. I thought it would take longer," Alessandro admitted. "Where?"

Filippo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Sevilla."

Alessandro blinked, processing the news. Sevilla—a competitive team in Spain, well known for its strong Europa League record and passionate fanbase. It wasn't a massive club like AC Milan, but it was still a respectable place for his father to land.

"That's… actually a solid move," Alessandro said, nodding. "They've got a good squad. And La Liga is a different challenge."

Filippo smirked. "Exactly. It's a fresh start."

Alessandro felt a mix of emotions—relief that his father had found stability, but also a sense of change looming in the air. His father was leaving Italy… and soon, he wondered if he might have to make a similar decision himself.

Alessandro leaned against the counter, absorbing the news. Sevilla.

It was a great opportunity for his father, but as the thought settled, something else hit him—Filippo would be moving to Spain.

He wouldn't be living with his father anymore.

For as long as he could remember, even after breaking into AC Milan's first team, home was still home because his father was there. They shared meals, late-night football discussions, and those little daily routines that made life feel stable. Now, that was about to change.

"So… you're moving to Spain," Alessandro said, his voice quieter now.

Filippo's expression softened. "Yeah." He hesitated, studying his son's face. "I hadn't really thought about it like that. I just assumed you'd be busy with Milan."

Alessandro nodded slowly, but deep down, a strange feeling twisted inside him. Milan wouldn't feel the same without his father.

"You okay?" Filippo asked.

Alessandro forced a smirk. "I mean, it's not like you're moving to the other side of the world," he said lightly. "Just a short flight away."

Filippo chuckled. "Exactly. And besides, you'll be so busy scoring goals, you won't even have time to miss me."

Alessandro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. But he knew things would never be quite the same.

[xXx]

The flight to Spain was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. Alessandro sat by the window, watching the clouds drift by as he occasionally glanced at his father, who seemed deep in thought.

Filippo had always been composed, but Alessandro could tell there was a mix of emotions beneath the surface—excitement for a new challenge, but also the weight of leaving Milan behind.

Upon landing in Seville, the warm Spanish air greeted them as they stepped off the plane. The club had arranged a car to pick them up, and as they drove through the city, Alessandro took in the sights—the sunlit streets, historic architecture, and passionate fans donning Sevilla jerseys.

When they arrived at the club's headquarters, a few reporters were already gathered, sensing the significance of Filippo Inzaghi's arrival. Alessandro stayed by his father's side as they walked into the building, greeted by Sevilla's executives.

The signing itself was straightforward—contracts reviewed, signatures placed, and official photos taken. Alessandro watched with quiet pride as his father finalized his move. This was the beginning of a new chapter.

After the formalities, Filippo turned to his son with a small smirk. "Well, that's that."

Alessandro nodded. "Guess you're officially Sevilla's now."

Filippo chuckled. "I suppose I am."

They both knew things were changing, but at that moment, there was nothing but mutual respect and support between them.

As Filippo was busy signing his contract with Sevilla's executives, Alessandro stood off to the side, scrolling through his phone. He was half-distracted when a Spanish journalist, a middle-aged man with a press badge, approached him with a curious expression.

"Señor Inzaghi, can I ask you something?" the journalist said in a thick Spanish accent.

Alessandro glanced up. "Uh, sure."

"What do you think about the transfer rumors?"

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "What transfer rumors?"

The journalist looked surprised. "You don't know? It has been reported that Real Madrid made an offer for you."

Alessandro's heart skipped a beat. Real Madrid? An actual offer?

He quickly masked his reaction, not wanting to give anything away. He hadn't heard a single word about this—not from his father, not from his agent, not from Milan.

Trying to keep his tone casual, he responded, "I haven't heard anything about that. If it's true, I guess I'll find out soon."

The journalist nodded, scribbling something in his notepad. "It's all over Spain. They say Pérez is very interested in bringing you to Madrid."

Alessandro forced a small chuckle. "I guess I'll have to check the news myself."

As the journalist walked off, Alessandro quickly pulled out his phone and searched his own name. Sure enough, reports were everywhere—Real Madrid had supposedly made an official offer to AC Milan for him.

His mind raced. If this was true, why hadn't anyone told him?

As they drove through the hills of Seville, looking at potential houses for Filippo, Alessandro found himself deep in thought. The news about Real Madrid's offer still lingered in his mind, and he knew he had to bring it up.

As they stopped at a scenic overlook, Filippo was focused on the view. "This city has charm," he mused. "A good place to live, don't you think?"

Alessandro, leaning against the car, nodded before taking a deep breath. "Dad… there's something I need to tell you."

Filippo turned to face him. "What is it?"

Alessandro hesitated for a moment, then decided to just say it. "Real Madrid made an official offer for me."

Filippo's expression didn't change immediately, but Alessandro could see the subtle shift in his eyes—a mixture of surprise, pride, and concern.

"Official?" Filippo finally asked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah. A Spanish journalist told me earlier, and when I checked online, it's everywhere."

Filippo exhaled, looking out at the city below. "And Milan? Have they told you anything?"

Alessandro shook his head. "Not yet."

Filippo nodded slowly, taking it in. His son was already a superstar, and now the biggest club in the world wanted him.

After a moment of silence, Filippo clapped his son on the shoulder. "We'll talk about this more when we get back, okay? For now, let's find me a place to live."

Alessandro smirked. "Fair enough."

But even as they continued their house search, the thought of Madrid never left his mind.

After a few more stops, they finally arrived at a stunning villa nestled in the hills of Seville. The house was elegant yet modern, with a sprawling terrace that overlooked the city. The warm Spanish sun bathed the property in golden light as they stepped inside for a tour.

The real estate agent, a polite and well-dressed man, guided them through the house, pointing out its many features—spacious rooms, high ceilings, a beautiful courtyard, and a pool that reflected the sky perfectly.

Filippo ran his fingers along the stone walls, nodding in approval. "This… this feels right," he muttered.

Alessandro grinned. "You always did have a thing for nice views."

They walked through the kitchen, then onto the terrace, where the view stretched across the city below. The faint hum of life in Seville carried up to them, and Filippo took a deep breath, savoring the atmosphere.

"This is the one," he finally said, turning to the agent. "I'll take it."

Alessandro smirked. "Didn't take you long to fall in love."

Filippo chuckled. "It reminds me of something… a fresh start."

Alessandro nodded, looking out at the skyline. He couldn't shake the thought that soon, he might be making a fresh start of his own.

Alessandro sat by the pool, letting the cool evening breeze wash over him as he scrolled through his phone. His mind was still racing from the house tour, from the thought of his father settling into a new life in Seville.

Then, his phone buzzed. His agent was calling.

"Alessandro, listen closely," his agent's voice came through, almost breathless with excitement. "Milan accepted Real Madrid's offer."

Alessandro sat up straight. "Wait… what?"

"Yeah. They agreed to the deal—100 million euros plus Benzema."

Alessandro ran a hand through his hair. "Dio mio… Benzema?"

"Yes! And that's not all," his agent continued, the excitement in his voice rising. "Real Madrid is offering you 300,000 euros a week."

Alessandro's heart pounded. He had expected interest from Madrid but not like this. Not this fast.

"I'm flying out to Seville," his agent added. "We need to talk in person. Madrid wants you, Alessandro. This is real."

Alessandro exhaled slowly, gripping his phone tighter.

His entire world was about to change.

[xXx]

After ending the call, Alessandro sat there for a moment, staring at the reflection of the moon on the pool's surface. The reality of what just happened started sinking in.

With a deep breath, he stood up and made his way back inside. He found his father in the living room, still unpacking, carefully placing framed photos on a shelf.

"Papà," Alessandro called out, his voice steady but serious.

Filippo turned to him, immediately noticing the look on his son's face. "What is it?"

Alessandro hesitated for a moment before finally saying, "Real Madrid… Milan accepted their offer. 100 million euros and Benzema. My agent is flying in. He has the contract."

Filippo's eyes widened slightly, but he remained composed. He placed the photo frame down and exhaled, rubbing his chin.

"They really want you," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Alessandro nodded. "Yeah… It's happening fast."

His father studied him carefully. "And how do you feel about it?"

"I don't know yet," Alessandro admitted. "I haven't even seen the contract."

Filippo gave a small nod. "Then we'll see what your agent has to say."

As Alessandro waited for his agent to arrive, he found himself restless. His mind was racing—Real Madrid, Benzema, 100 million euros. It felt surreal.

Needing to clear his head, he grabbed his phone and opened Twitter. His name was everywhere.

Trending topics:
#AlessandroToMadrid
#MilanLegendLeaves?
#BenzemaSwapDeal

Clicking on one of the hashtags, he scrolled through an endless stream of opinions.

"Real Madrid going all out for Alessandro! This transfer window is insane!"

"100M Benzema? Milan fans are gonna riot if they let him go!"

"Alessandro at Madrid… imagine him linking up with Ronaldo. Scary hours."

Alessandro switched over to Instagram. His notifications were exploding—thousands of comments, tags, and messages.

On football meme pages, edits of him in a Real Madrid jersey were already being posted. Some used pictures of him shaking Florentino Pérez's hand from the UEFA gala. Others combined clips of his best goals with Madrid's iconic Champions League anthem playing in the background.

Even sports media outlets had picked up on the news.

Fabrizio Romano:
"Real Madrid have made their move for Alessandro Inzaghi. AC Milan have received a 100M Benzema offer. Talks ongoing. #RealMadrid #ACMilan"

Under the post, the comments were chaos.

"Would be a dream signing."
"Milan would be stupid to accept this."
"Alessandro and Benzema swapping clubs? Football heritage."

He exhaled deeply. It felt strange—he hadn't even decided what he wanted to do yet, but the whole world was already discussing his future.

And then he saw it.

One of his last Instagram posts was blowing up—a picture of him celebrating after Milan's Scudetto-winning goal.

Pinned in the comments was a simple question:
"Leaving us already?"

Alessandro swallowed hard. He locked his phone and leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

His agent would be here soon.

And then, everything would get even more real.

A few hours later, Alessandro met his agent in the lounge of a high-end hotel in Seville. His agent, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, wasted no time—he placed the contract folder on the table and slid it toward Alessandro.

"There it is," the agent said. "300,000 euros per week, five-year deal. You'd be one of the highest-paid players at Madrid."

Alessandro stared at the contract in front of him. His name was already printed on it.

This wasn't just talk anymore. This was real.

As Alessandro sat in the lounge, staring at the contract in front of him, his first instinct was to reject it.

Real Madrid was tempting—the biggest club in the world, playing alongside Cristiano Ronaldo, competing for Champions Leagues every season. But Milan was home. It was the club that had raised him, the club where he had become a superstar at just 17, the club where his father had lifted trophies as both a player and a coach.

He reached for a pen, ready to close the folder and tell his agent he wasn't signing.

But then, he remembered.

His father.

Filippo Inzaghi had led Milan to a Scudetto and a Coppa Italia in his first season as manager—yet the club had decided not to renew his contract. No explanation, no second chance. They just let him go.

And just like that, everything changed.

Milan had made it personal.

If they could let go of his father so easily, after all he had given them, then what loyalty did they truly have to Alessandro?

His heart sank as he realized the truth—Milan wasn't the same club anymore.

He clenched his jaw, exhaled sharply, and looked back at the contract.

"Give me the pen," he muttered.

His agent smirked and slid it over.

Alessandro Inzaghi was going to Real Madrid.

[xXx]

The Aftermath of Alessandro Inzaghi's Real Madrid Signing

Fan & Media Reactions

Breaking News: "REAL MADRID SIGN ALESSANDRO INZAGHI!"

The football world erupted.

News outlets were flooded with headlines:

Marca: "The Next Galáctico – Alessandro Inzaghi is a Madridista!"
La Gazzetta dello Sport: "Betrayal or Ambition? Inzaghi Leaves Milan for Madrid!"
BBC Sport: "Real Madrid's Biggest Signing Since Cristiano?"

Twitter was absolute chaos.

"#WelcomeInzaghi" was trending #1 worldwide.
Milan fans were furious.
Madrid fans were ecstatic.
Rival fans? Watching with popcorn.

Football fans' reactions online:

"100 MILLION BENZEMA?! FLORENTINO PÉREZ DOES IT AGAIN!"
"Milan sold their biggest talent since Kaka. This is unreal."
"Inzaghi & Ronaldo in the same team? Champions League defenses are finished."
"Benzema being sacrificed for Inzaghi is crazy. I hope it's worth it."

Under Alessandro's Instagram post confirming the move:

Cristiano Ronaldo: "Bienvenido a Madrid, campeón. Nos vemos pronto. "
Kaká: "The right move at the right time. Madrid is special. Best of luck, Ale!"
Paolo Maldini (AC Milan legend): "Sad to see you go, but Milan made their choice. Wishing you the best, Alessandro."

Meanwhile, Milan fans filled the comments:

"Milan let him AND his father go. Unbelievable."
"First Pirlo, then Thiago Silva, and now Alessandro? This club is losing its soul."
"We lost a future Ballon d'Or winner. No words."

Florentino Pérez's Victory Toast

At Real Madrid's headquarters, Florentino Pérez poured himself a glass of champagne. His closest executives, scouts, and directors gathered around him, their faces lit with satisfaction.

"Gentlemen," Pérez began, raising his glass, "we have done it."

A round of applause filled the room.

"Barcelona's treble last season made us look weak. We needed to respond. This—" he gestured to the contract on the table, "—is our answer."

His colleague nodded, adding, "Inzaghi is young, marketable, and a goal machine. The perfect Galáctico."

Florentino smirked.

"He is the third most followed footballer in the world. Behind only Ronaldo and Messi. This is not just a signing—this is an investment into the future of Real Madrid."

Then, setting his glass down, he turned to his assistant.

"Send the private jet to Milan immediately. I want him in Madrid by tonight."

The assistant hesitated.

"Sir… he's not in Milan."

Florentino raised an eyebrow.

"Then where is he?"

"He's… already in Spain."

Florentino froze.

"Where exactly?"

"Sevilla. His father just signed with the club."

A rare chuckle escaped the Real Madrid president. "Well then," he said, shaking his head, "it seems fate wanted him closer to us already."

He turned back to his assistant.

"Forget Milan. Send the jet to Sevilla."

Alessandro Inzaghi's journey as a Real Madrid player was about to begin.

[xXx]

A Bittersweet Goodbye

The sun hung low over the hills of Seville as Alessandro Inzaghi stood outside his father's new home, bags packed, heart heavy. His phone had just rung—Real Madrid was ready for him.

A sleek black car waited at the gate, his agent already inside, speaking on the phone. Their destination? The nearest airport, where Real Madrid's private jet was waiting.

Filippo Inzaghi stood beside his son, arms crossed, a mix of pride and sadness on his face.

"So, this is it, huh?" Filippo said with a small smile, trying to hide the emotions behind his words.

Alessandro exhaled deeply. "Yeah… this is it."

There was a moment of silence between them, only the sounds of birds chirping and the faint hum of cicadas filling the air.

"You know," Filippo continued, "I always knew this day would come. Just… not this soon."

Alessandro looked down for a moment before meeting his father's gaze. "Neither did I."

A part of him still struggled with the idea—he wouldn't be coming home to his dad anymore. They had been together through everything. From his childhood to Milan's academy, to winning the Scudetto and Coppa Italia together. And now… it was time to say goodbye.

Filippo took a deep breath. "Listen to me, Ale. I know Milan didn't do right by us, but don't let bitterness guide you in Madrid. Play with joy. Play for yourself."

Alessandro nodded. "I will."

Filippo then smirked. "And for God's sake, don't let Ronaldo bully you into taking a backseat."

Alessandro chuckled. "No chance. I'm coming for his throne."

They shared a final, strong hug. A father sending off his son to the biggest challenge of his career.

As Alessandro pulled away, he turned toward the car. The door was already open for him.

"You better visit," Filippo called after him.

Alessandro smirked, stepping into the car. "Just don't get Sevilla relegated."

His father laughed, shaking his head as he watched the car pull away, taking his son toward a new destiny.

A new era had begun.

[xXx]

Madrid Welcomes Its New Galáctico

As the private jet carrying Alessandro Inzaghi and his agent soared through the Spanish skies toward Madrid, the city was already in a frenzy.

Across cafés, homes, and bars, Real Madrid fans were glued to their screens, watching the official club announcement over and over again.

At a local café near the Santiago Bernabéu…

A group of older Madridistas sipped their café con leche, debating excitedly.

"One hundred million plus Benzema? Madre mía… but for Inzaghi? Worth it!" one man exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"The boy destroyed Brazil in the World Cup," another chimed in. "And he just won Milan the Scudetto! If he's even half the player his father was, we're in for a treat."

Inside a Madrid apartment, two teenagers scrolled through their phones.

"Bro, look at this highlight reel," one said, holding up his phone. The screen showed Alessandro's bicycle kick goal against Juventus in 2013 and his last-minute Scudetto-winning strike.

"This guy is crazy," the other replied. "I'm buying his jersey first thing tomorrow."

At the Santiago Bernabéu club store…

A line had already started forming outside, even though Alessandro hadn't officially landed yet. Fans eagerly waited for the first batch of "INZAGHI 9" jerseys to hit the shelves.

Meanwhile, at the Real Madrid front office…

Florentino Pérez watched the ticket sales numbers spike in real time.

"Señor, we've already sold 40,000 tickets for his unveiling," an executive informed him. "At this rate, we might fill the stadium!"

Pérez smirked, raising his glass in a toast to his colleagues. "I told you," he said, "this boy isn't just a footballer—he's a phenomenon."

He then made one last call.

"Make sure the private jet lands smoothly. Madrid is waiting for its new king."

As the private jet cruised through the clouds, Alessandro leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply. He pulled out his phone and opened Instagram, curious about how his latest post was doing.

It was a picture of him and his father, standing side by side at Filippo's new home in the hills of Sevilla. The caption was simple but heartfelt:

"A new chapter for him, and a new one for me. Grazie di tutto, papà. ️"

The likes had already surpassed five million, and the comment section was flooded with reactions.

acmilanfan1899: "Thank you for everything, Ale… but this one hurts. "
realmadrid_news: "Welcome to the greatest club in history, Inzaghi! Hala Madrid! "
italianlegendz: "Milan lost their prince, but Madrid just gained a king. "
juventus_memes: "Milan fans, how are we feeling today? "
officialfabrizioromano: "Official and confirmed. Alessandro Inzaghi to Real Madrid. Here we go! "
kendalljenner: Liked the post

Alessandro raised an eyebrow at the last one. He hesitated for a moment, but before he could think too much about it, his agent nudged him.

"We're landing in 20 minutes," he said. "Get ready, kid. Madrid is waiting."

Alessandro took a deep breath and locked his phone. This was it.

Alessandro stared at his phone screen for a moment, processing what he just saw.

Kendall Jenner liked his post.

His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. It had been over a year since they last spoke, and yet, here she was, subtly reminding him of her presence.

"This girl sure gives out weird signs," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Against his better judgment, he tapped on her profile, hesitated for a second, then clicked on the message icon.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

"Didn't expect you to pop up on my notifications. How've you been?"

He hit send before he could overthink it.

Almost immediately, he locked his phone and leaned back in his seat, staring out of the airplane window. The night sky stretched endlessly beyond him, but his mind was restless.

Would she reply? Would she even see it? Or was this just another game?

For now, there were bigger things to focus on.

Madrid was waiting.

Alessandro unlocked his phone again, this time heading to Twitter. He was curious—how were Milan fans reacting? In the span of two days, they had lost both Filippo Inzaghi, their manager, and Alessandro Inzaghi, their star player.

He searched "Inzaghi Milan" and was immediately flooded with thousands of tweets.

MilanistiForever
"We lost both Inzaghis in 48 hours. I don't know whether to cry or riot."

ForzaRossoneri
"No loyalty in football anymore. Alessandro could've been our Totti, our Maldini. Instead, he left at the first big offer. Milan made him. And he left us."

CalcioDiTutto
"Real Madrid just stole the face of Milan. The worst part? AC Milan LET THEM."

SerieA_Zone
"From the prince of Milan to the heir of the Galácticos. What a journey for Alessandro Inzaghi."

MilanCurvaSud
"No Filippo. No Alessandro. Just pain."

FootballNostalgia
"This is worse than when Kaka left. It's the end of an era."

Alessandro sighed as he scrolled.

Some fans were angry. Some were heartbroken. Some understood.

It wasn't an easy decision. But Milan had made it personal when they didn't renew his father's contract.

Still, seeing the pain in the fanbase that had supported him since he was a boy—it stung.

He exhaled deeply, locked his phone, and leaned back again.

Tomorrow, he'd wear the white of Real Madrid.

There was no turning back now.

[xXx]

Alessandro sat up in his first-class seat, staring at the angry and heartbroken messages from Milan fans. He felt the weight of his decision. They deserved an explanation.

Opening his phone's front camera, he took a deep breath and hit record.

"Hey, everyone. It's Alessandro."

"I know a lot of you are hurt. Trust me, I understand. Milan is my home. It always will be. I grew up in the academy, made my debut at 16, and lived my dream playing for the club I love. Winning the Scudetto and Coppa Italia last season was one of the proudest moments of my life."

"But football is unpredictable. The club decided not to renew my father's contract despite everything he did for Milan. That hurt. And then, when Madrid came knocking… Milan accepted the offer without hesitation. That told me everything."

"I didn't ask to leave. But when a club lets you go so easily, you have to accept it."

"To the fans—thank you for everything. I'll never forget the love you showed me. I'll always be one of you. This isn't goodbye forever. It's just… a new chapter."

"Forza Milan, always."

He watched the video again, making sure he said everything the way he wanted to. Then, without a caption, he posted it to Instagram and Twitter.

Within minutes, the comment sections exploded.

Milan4Life: "This hurts even more because he didn't want to leave. The club failed him."

Madridista99: "RESPECT. He's not running away, he was pushed out. Welcome to Madrid, Alessandro!" ️

SerieA_Talk: "Alessandro handled this with class. Milan fans should be mad at management, not him."

RossoneriHeart: "One day, he'll return. I believe it."

RealMadridFanPage: "A player with talent and humility. The perfect Galáctico."

As Alessandro read through the reactions, he exhaled.

He'd told his truth. Now, it was time to focus on what lay ahead.

[xXx]

Kendall's reply came quickly.

Kendall: "Friends? Lol, I didn't know I got friend-zoned."

Alessandro smirked as he read her response. He hadn't meant it in a bad way—just stating the obvious. They barely knew each other, and their lives were worlds apart. He was about to type a reply when another message from her popped up.

Kendall: "But I guess you're right. We don't really know each other, and you're in Spain now. Probably for the best."

Alessandro exhaled, feeling like he had dodged something complicated. A part of him wondered if she was being sarcastic or if she actually agreed with him. Either way, he wasn't looking to get tangled up in something long-distance or with someone who lived in the Hollywood spotlight.

Alessandro: "Exactly. No hard feelings though. Friends it is."

She sent back a simple "Haha, alright. Friends."

With that settled, Alessandro locked his phone and leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. This was the start of a whole new chapter.

Alessandro smirked and unlocked his phone again, deciding to add a little banter to keep things light.

Alessandro: "But hey, if you ever need a guide in Spain or Milan, just call. I charge in good company and interesting conversations."

A few moments passed before Kendall replied.

Kendall: "Oh wow, such a generous offer. So, does that mean you'll be my tour guide if I visit Madrid?"

Alessandro: "Only if you promise not to get lost. Can't have a Kardashian missing in Spain on my watch."

She sent back a laughing emoji.

Kendall: "I'll try my best. But knowing me, I might just 'accidentally' end up in Madrid now."

Alessandro shook his head, amused.

Alessandro: "Just don't expect VIP treatment. I'm new here too."

Kendall: "Oh please, you're Real Madrid's new golden boy. You're probably getting red carpet treatment as we speak."

Alessandro chuckled at that, looking out the window as the plane began descending toward Madrid.

This conversation was fun, but right now, his focus had to be on what was ahead.

As the plane taxied to a stop, Alessandro peered out of the window and was taken aback by the sheer number of people waiting for him at the airport. Thousands of Real Madrid fans had gathered, waving scarves, holding banners, and chanting his name. The noise was muffled from inside the aircraft, but he could feel the energy buzzing even through the glass.

His agent turned to him with a smirk. "Welcome to Madrid, superstar."

Alessandro exhaled, adjusting his hoodie. "I knew this was big, but… this is crazy."

Outside, security personnel were already forming a protective perimeter, ensuring a smooth exit from the airport. As he stepped off the plane, the chants grew deafening.

"¡Inzaghi! ¡Inzaghi! ¡Bienvenido a Madrid!"

Cameras flashed wildly as reporters jostled for a chance to get a word from him. Fans stretched their arms, hoping for a handshake, an autograph, anything. Alessandro gave a polite wave, offering a few smiles as he was quickly ushered into a private exit.

His first night in Madrid had officially begun.

[xXx]

Before the grand unveiling at the Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, Alessandro Inzaghi had one crucial step to complete—his medical examination.

Early in the morning, he arrived at Real Madrid's state-of-the-art medical facility, greeted by club doctors and medical staff who were eager to assess their record-breaking signing. Cameras flashed as he stepped inside, fans outside chanting his name, but Alessandro remained focused.

The tests were thorough—blood work, cardiovascular assessments, musculoskeletal checks, and endurance tests. He aced each one, showcasing his elite fitness and conditioning. His heart rate, lung capacity, and reflexes all scored in the highest percentile, confirming what the world already knew—Alessandro Inzaghi was in peak physical form.

When the results came in, one of the doctors patted him on the back. "You're in perfect shape. A true athlete. A's across the board."

Alessandro grinned, relieved yet unsurprised. He had always prided himself on his physical discipline, and now, he was officially fit to wear the famous white jersey.

Shortly after, Real Madrid's official social media accounts posted:

Alessandro Inzaghi has successfully completed his medical examination and is now a Real Madrid player!

Now, with his medical cleared, there was only one thing left to do—sign the contract that would make him a Galáctico.

[xXx]

That morning, Alessandro stood in front of the mirror in his five-star hotel room, adjusting his black suit. The fabric was smooth, tailored perfectly to his frame. He straightened his tie, exhaling slowly. Today was the day. The day he would step onto the Santiago Bernabéu as a Real Madrid player.

Before leaving, he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of himself in the suit. With a small smile, he sent it to his father, Filippo.

Alessandro: "How do I look, Mister Sevilla?"

A minute later, his phone buzzed with a reply.

Filippo: "Like a man who's about to make history. Make me proud, son."

Alessandro grinned, feeling a mix of pride and nostalgia. He missed his father already. They had been together for so long, and now, for the first time, they were living in different countries.

With a deep breath, he pocketed his phone and grabbed his sunglasses before heading out of the hotel lobby, where his agent and security team were waiting. The moment he stepped outside, flashes from cameras went off. Journalists called his name, trying to get a word from him.

Ignoring the noise, he stepped into the black SUV, the doors shutting with a firm click.

As the vehicle pulled away from the hotel and onto the streets of Madrid, he checked his phone once more—just to see his father had sent him another text.

Filippo: "No matter what, always remember where you came from."

Alessandro nodded to himself, locking his phone.

"I will, Dad."

As the SUV made its way through the streets of Madrid, Alessandro adjusted his black suit, taking a deep breath. He knew today was the real beginning. The official presentation. A sold-out Santiago Bernabéu. The world watching.

He gazed out of the tinted window, taking in the scenery of his new home. Fans were everywhere, draped in white, holding banners that bore his name. Then, just like Cristiano Ronaldo years ago, he noticed a young woman in the crowd looking straight at him, eyes wide with excitement. She held her hands together in disbelief, almost as if she couldn't believe he was real.

Without thinking, Alessandro raised his hand and waved at her.

Her reaction was instant. She gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth before jumping up and down in pure joy. Her friends screamed, hugging her as if she had just won the lottery. Alessandro chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly.

"I guess I just made her day," he muttered.

His agent, sitting beside him, smirked. "You're about to make 80,000 people's day, kid. Welcome to the big leagues."

As the SUV approached the Bernabéu, Alessandro saw the sheer scale of the crowd. The stadium, his new home, was filled to the brim—not for a match, not for a trophy parade, but for him. The realization settled deep in his chest.

This was it. The next chapter of his journey had officially begun.

As the SUV approached the Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, Alessandro Inzaghi felt a rush of emotions. The towering structure loomed over the streets of Madrid, gleaming under the Spanish sun. It was a cathedral of football, a place where legends had been made—where he was about to take his first steps as a Real Madrid player.

The vehicle slowed as it neared the entrance, where thousands of fans had gathered. The noise was deafening—chants of "Inzaghi! Inzaghi!" echoed through the air. Some held banners welcoming him, others waved the famous white Real Madrid jerseys, already printed with his name and number.

Alessandro leaned slightly against the window, taking in the surreal scene. He had played in big stadiums before, but this… this was something else. The sheer passion of Madridistas was overwhelming.

His agent nudged him. "This is all for you, kid. Take it in."

Alessandro exhaled deeply. He adjusted his suit jacket and ran a hand through his hair before slipping on his sunglasses. The car door opened, and the roar of the crowd intensified.

As he stepped out, cameras flashed wildly, and the chants grew louder. A sense of pride and responsibility settled in his chest. He wasn't just any player joining Real Madrid—he was their record signing, the player brought in to help them reclaim European dominance.

Walking towards the entrance, he caught sight of a young girl in the crowd, waving frantically. Just like Ronaldo back in 2009, Alessandro instinctively waved back, making her day.

A club official greeted him at the entrance, gesturing toward the tunnel leading into the heart of the stadium. Alessandro took a deep breath before stepping forward.

"Welcome to Madrid."

[xXx]

In the heart of Real Madrid's media room, Alessandro Inzaghi sat beside Florentino Pérez, cameras flashing in every direction. The president of Real Madrid, a satisfied smile on his face, watched as the young Italian forward put pen to paper, officially becoming a Galáctico.

Alessandro signed his name with steady hands, the weight of the moment sinking in. The contract was done—he was now a Real Madrid player. A new chapter had begun.

After finishing the final signature, he shook Pérez's hand firmly. The club president then gestured towards the awaiting photographers, signaling the iconic moment every Madrid signing went through.

An assistant handed Alessandro the pristine white jersey, freshly printed with his name and number. With a confident smile, he stood up, gripping both ends of the shirt and unfurling it for the cameras—Inzaghi 9.

The number 9 shirt of Real Madrid. A number worn by legends. It was now his.

The reporters wasted no time. Questions flew at him, some about his expectations, others about the pressure of playing for the biggest club in the world. Alessandro answered each with calmness, his voice steady despite the chaos around him.

"I know what this club represents," he said. "The expectations, the history, the passion of the fans. I'm here to give everything for this shirt. To win, to score goals, and to help Real Madrid reach even greater heights."

Florentino Pérez, clearly pleased, leaned towards the microphone. "Today, we welcome a player who embodies the values of Real Madrid. A young talent who has already made history, and who will continue to do so in this great club."

The room erupted in applause as Alessandro held up the jersey one last time before stepping off the stage. The presentation was far from over.

Outside, at the Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, thousands of Madridistas awaited their new number 9.

Standing in front of the mirror inside Real Madrid's media room, Alessandro Inzaghi adjusted the pristine white jersey that now bore his name and the iconic number 9. The weight of the shirt felt different—this was no longer Milan's red and black, no longer the club he had called home since he was a boy.

He ran a hand through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. Why did Milan do this to themselves?

He never wanted to leave. He never imagined playing for another club, at least not so soon. But after everything that had happened—the way they let his father go, the way they so easily accepted Real Madrid's offer—it was clear that Milan had made their decision.

He exhaled deeply, his fingers gripping the badge on his chest. He had given them everything. He had won them trophies. He had scored the goal that secured the Scudetto. And yet, they let him go without a fight.

"They made it personal," he muttered under his breath, his eyes dark with a mix of disappointment and determination.

If Milan didn't want him, he would show them what they had lost.

As Alessandro stood beside Florentino Pérez in Real Madrid's media room, he listened carefully as the club president addressed the fans and the media. Pérez spoke with conviction, emphasizing how Real Madrid had secured the most exciting young talent in world football.

"Alessandro Inzaghi is a player who embodies greatness, a player destined to wear the white of Madrid. We are proud to welcome him to the Santiago Bernabéu."

The crowd outside the stadium roared with excitement, chanting his name. Alessandro soaked it all in, but his attention wavered when he noticed something on a nearby patron's phone—a live stream of AC Milan's own unveiling.

Karim Benzema, the man he had unknowingly been exchanged for, stood on a grand stage at Casa Milan, receiving a hero's welcome. Red and black scarves waved in the air as the Milan faithful chanted his name. The very fans who once worshipped Alessandro were now cheering for the Frenchman.

The sight made his stomach twist. It wasn't jealousy—Benzema was a great player, and he had immense respect for him. But the way Milan had moved on so quickly, as if he were never there, left an ache in his chest.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his expression to remain composed. If this was how Milan wanted to handle things, so be it. He had a new home now, a new challenge, and a new mission.

Real Madrid had bet 100 million euros and their starting striker on him. Now, he had to prove that he was worth every bit of it.

As Florentino Pérez continued his speech on the grand stage at the Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, Alessandro Inzaghi stood just below, hidden from the crowd's view. The roar of the sold-out stadium vibrated through the tunnel walls, a sound that sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

He adjusted his Real Madrid jersey, the crisp white fabric feeling both foreign and exhilarating on his skin. This was it. His new chapter. His new home.

Up above, Pérez finished setting the stage for his grand arrival.

"And now, Madridistas, it is my great honor to introduce to you…" Pérez paused, letting the anticipation build.

"Alessandro Inzaghi!"

The stadium erupted as Alessandro stepped onto the stage. The noise was deafening, waves of cheers rolling over him like a tidal force. Thousands of fans had gathered, chanting his name, waving scarves, holding banners that read "Bienvenido Inzaghi!" and "El nuevo galáctico!"

Alessandro raised his hand and waved, a natural, easy smile appearing on his face. He turned his body slightly, giving a wave to each side of the stadium, soaking in the moment. This was no ordinary welcome—this was Madrid, the biggest club in the world, and they were embracing him as their own.

Cameras flashed, reporters scribbled notes, and fans clapped and chanted his name in unison. As he stood under the bright lights of the Bernabéu, he felt the full weight of what it meant to wear this jersey.

This wasn't just a transfer.

This was history in the making.

As the cheers continued to echo through the Bernabéu, Alessandro was handed a ball by one of the event coordinators. He looked at it for a moment, then grinned. The fans weren't just here to see him wave—they wanted a show.

He flicked the ball up with his right foot and began juggling effortlessly, keeping it in the air with a mix of delicate touches and controlled precision. The crowd responded with loud applause as he transitioned into using his thighs, alternating between them with the composure of a seasoned performer.

Then, he stepped it up.

He popped the ball up to his shoulders, bouncing it between them before letting it roll down his back. With a quick movement, he positioned his neck just right, trapping the ball in place as he leaned forward slightly. The stadium roared in approval.

Alessandro smirked as he held the pose for a few seconds, letting the cameras capture the moment. He then allowed the ball to drop, cushioning it smoothly with his foot before flicking it back into his hands.

The Madridistas chanted his name in unison, embracing him already as one of their own. He took a step forward, lifting the Real Madrid badge on his chest and kissing it lightly, sending the fans into another frenzy.

This was more than just an unveiling—it was a statement.

Alessandro Inzaghi had arrived.

[xXx]

As the cheers finally settled, Florentino Pérez stepped forward with a proud smile and gestured toward Alessandro. The club president handed him the microphone, and the anticipation in the Santiago Bernabéu grew.

Alessandro took a deep breath, steadying himself. He had always been confident on the pitch, but speaking in front of thousands of passionate Madridistas was a different kind of challenge. He looked out at the sea of white jerseys and raised the mic.

"Buenas tardes, Madridistas."

The crowd erupted again, appreciating his effort to speak Spanish. Alessandro smiled, waiting for them to quiet down before continuing.

"First of all, I want to thank President Florentino Pérez, the Real Madrid board, and everyone at the club for believing in me. It is an honor to be standing here today as a Real Madrid player. This is the biggest club in the world, with the greatest history and the most passionate fans."

The Bernabéu faithful roared in approval, chanting "¡Inzaghi! ¡Inzaghi!"

He nodded and continued, his voice steady and sincere.

"I want to also thank AC Milan, the club that raised me, my teammates, and my coaches who helped me grow. Milan will always have a special place in my heart, but now, I am here to give my all for Real Madrid."

There were no cheap shots at his former club, no bitterness—only respect. That made the Madridistas admire him even more.

"I know the expectations that come with wearing this badge. I know the responsibility of being a Real Madrid player. But I am ready. Ready to fight, to score goals, and to help this team win trophies."

The crowd exploded into cheers once more, their excitement reaching new heights. Alessandro felt a wave of pride wash over him.

"Hala Madrid!" he finished, raising his fist in the air.

The Bernabéu echoed with the same chant in return. The young Italian had won them over before even playing a single minute.

[xXx]

After the electrifying showcase at the Bernabéu, Alessandro was escorted back into the stadium halls, where several club officials were waiting for him. One of them, a well-dressed man with an air of professionalism, stepped forward.

"Señor Inzaghi, we have taken care of your living arrangements," he said with a respectful nod.

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That was fast. Where is it?"

The official handed him a sleek folder with documents and an address. "Your new home is in La Finca, one of the most exclusive areas in Madrid. Many of your teammates live there as well."

Alessandro opened the folder and saw pictures of the property—modern, luxurious, and massive. He blinked.

"Wait… this place is huge. I was expecting an apartment or a penthouse in the city."

A deep chuckle echoed behind him. Alessandro turned to see Florentino Pérez, who had just entered the room with his usual composed smile.

"An apartment?" Pérez said, amused. "Alessandro, you are a Galáctico now. Real Madrid's number nine. You deserve a home that reflects your status."

Alessandro looked back at the pictures. The mansion had everything—a large garden, a private gym, a pool, and even a home theater. It was easily one of the most extravagant places he had ever seen.

"This might be a little too much for me," he admitted.

Pérez patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me, you'll get used to it. Madrid takes care of its stars. Consider it part of your new life."

Alessandro exhaled, realizing that this was just another part of his transformation. He was no longer just a promising young player from Milan. He was the latest Galáctico.

[xXx]

As the SUV cruised through the streets of Madrid, Alessandro sat back against the plush leather seats, his phone in hand. The city outside was alive with energy, but he was more interested in what was happening online.

Opening Twitter, he saw his name trending worldwide. #BienvenidoInzaghi, #HalaMadrid, and even #GrazieInzaghi from Milan fans flooded his feed. Clicking into the trending topics, he scrolled through countless reactions.

— "Real Madrid just signed the next footballing icon. Inzaghi in white is about to be special."
— "Milan losing both Filippo and Alessandro in two days is a disaster. The Inzaghi name should've been their legacy!"
— "Florentino is a genius. 100M Benzema is a steal for the third most popular footballer in the world."
— "Alessandro is still so young, but he's already a Galáctico. Can't wait to see what he does!"

Some Milan fans were heartbroken:

— "Hurts to see him leave, but we'll always love him. He gave us everything."
— "We let our golden boy go... Unforgivable."

Even legendary footballers had spoken about the transfer. Alessandro was surprised to see a tweet from Ronaldo Nazário:

— "The #9 at Real Madrid carries history. Alessandro Inzaghi has the talent to add to it. Big move!"

Checking Instagram, he saw his latest post—his farewell message to Milan—had millions of likes and thousands of comments.

He then noticed something else. His follower count had skyrocketed. In just a few hours, he had gained over 5 million new followers, cementing his place as one of football's most talked-about figures.

As he scrolled further, his eyes landed on something unexpected—Kendall Jenner had commented on his farewell post.

"Big things ahead for you. Excited to see what's next. "

Alessandro smirked. This girl sure does send mixed signals…

Lost in thought, he barely noticed when the SUV slowed down.

"Señor Inzaghi, we have arrived," the driver said, pulling up to his new home.

Putting his phone away, Alessandro took a deep breath. This was it. His new life in Madrid was officially beginning.

As Alessandro stepped out of the SUV and into his massive new home, he couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. This house is ridiculous. The grand entrance, the towering ceilings, the pristine marble floors—it was something out of a movie.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed his father on video call. After a few rings, Filippo Inzaghi's familiar face appeared on the screen.

"Ehi, campione! Have you settled in already?" Filippo greeted with a smile.

"Not really," Alessandro chuckled, flipping the camera around to show off the entrance. "They got me living like a king over here. I thought I was getting an apartment, but Florentino had other plans."

His father whistled. "Mamma mia! They really went all out for their new Galáctico, huh? Show me more!"

Alessandro walked through the house, giving Filippo a tour. He showed off the massive living room, the fully stocked kitchen, the private gym, and even the home theater.

"You need a damn map to get around this place," Alessandro joked.

"I see why Perez didn't want you in an apartment," Filippo laughed. "You'd have made the news if fans saw you picking up groceries in Madrid!"

Reaching the backyard, Alessandro turned the camera to show the luxurious pool and the beautiful garden. "This is my favorite part so far. Can't wait to relax out here."

Filippo smirked. "Let me guess, you're already imagining doing bicycle kicks into that pool?"

Alessandro laughed. "You know me too well."

His father shook his head playfully. "All jokes aside, I'm proud of you, Ale. This is a big step. But remember, the house, the money, the fame—it means nothing if you don't keep your head on straight. Stay hungry."

Alessandro nodded, appreciating the advice. "Of course, Dad. And hey, this place is big enough for guests. You better visit."

"You think I'm missing El Clásico? Not a chance," Filippo grinned.

The two shared some more banter before ending the call. As the screen went dark, Alessandro let out a deep breath, looking around his new home.

This was it. His journey as a Galáctico had truly begun.

As the early morning light painted Madrid in hues of gold and orange, Alessandro laced up his running shoes and stepped outside. The crisp air carried a quiet serenity, the world still waking up.

He took a deep breath and began his run, relishing the peacefulness of his new neighborhood. However, as he rounded the corner of his estate, he noticed someone else out on a morning jog.

A familiar figure.

Dressed in an athletic tracksuit, Cristiano Ronaldo moved with the same effortless grace that had made him one of the greatest footballers of all time. Alessandro's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't seen Ronaldo since the 2014 Ballon d'Or ceremony, though their first meeting had been at the 2013 Ballon d'Or ceremony, when Alessandro had won the Puskás Award for his stunning bicycle kick against Juventus.

Ronaldo, noticing Alessandro, slowed his pace slightly before offering a nod and a small smile. "Alessandro! Madrid suits you."

Alessandro grinned, jogging up beside him. "Good to see you again, Cristiano. Didn't expect to have you as a neighbor."

Ronaldo chuckled. "Florentino makes sure his Galácticos live close to each other."

The two ran side by side, their strides in sync.

"So, how does it feel to be here?" Ronaldo asked.

Alessandro exhaled sharply. "Surreal. Everything happened so fast. One moment, I was in Milan, then Sevilla with my dad, and now... Madrid. It still hasn't sunk in."

Ronaldo smirked. "Get used to it. This club is different. The expectations, the pressure—Real Madrid is not for everyone. But if anyone can handle it, it's you."

Alessandro appreciated the vote of confidence. Coming from Ronaldo, it meant a lot.

"I'll make sure I live up to it," Alessandro said firmly.

Ronaldo nodded. "Good. But remember—talent brought you here, but hard work keeps you here."

Alessandro smiled. "Then it's a good thing I woke up early, huh?"

Ronaldo laughed. "I like that. Keep that attitude."

The two continued their run, two generational talents—one at the peak of his career, the other just beginning his journey in Madrid.

As they ran through the quiet streets of Madrid, Alessandro couldn't help but smirk.

"So, Cristiano, do I call you 'big bro' now?" he teased.

Ronaldo chuckled. "Big bro? You trying to be my little brother now?"

Alessandro shrugged. "Why not? You're the legend here. I could use some guidance."

Ronaldo shook his head with a grin. "If you think being my 'little brother' means I'll take it easy on you, you're in for a rude awakening."

Alessandro laughed. "I wouldn't expect anything less. You'll see, I can handle it."

Ronaldo smirked. "We'll see. First, let's see if you can keep up on this run."

With that, Ronaldo picked up the pace, pushing himself forward with explosive strides. Alessandro groaned but grinned, immediately accepting the challenge.

"Oh, so we're doing this now? Fine, let's go!"

The two raced through the quiet streets, their competitive spirits ignited. The Madrid sunrise bore witness to the beginning of a unique bond—one between Real Madrid's biggest star and its newest prodigy.

As the sun began to rise over Madrid, Alessandro and Cristiano jogged side by side through the quiet, upscale neighborhood. The streets were empty except for a few early risers, and the only sounds were their rhythmic footsteps and steady breathing.

Cristiano set the pace, but Alessandro, despite being younger, kept up with ease. Every now and then, Ronaldo would glance at him, impressed by his stamina.

"Not bad, kid. Most young players would still be sleeping after the kind of day you had yesterday," Ronaldo remarked as they neared the final stretch.

Alessandro smirked. "That's not how I got here. Hard work doesn't stop because I changed clubs."

Cristiano chuckled. "I like that mindset."

As they reached their homes, the sweat glistening on their skin, Cristiano slowed down and stretched his arms. Alessandro did the same, catching his breath.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Cristiano asked casually as he wiped his face with his towel.

That's when Alessandro saw an opportunity. "Actually, I was going to ask you something."

Cristiano raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Do you have the contacts of some of the best strength coaches in Madrid? I want to start training immediately."

Cristiano paused for a moment, then folded his arms, looking at Alessandro with newfound respect. Most players would take a few days to soak in the glamour of Madrid, but here Alessandro was, already thinking about improvement.

"You don't waste time, huh?" Ronaldo said with a small grin.

Alessandro shrugged. "Like you said, talent is nothing without hard work."

A proud expression crossed Cristiano's face as he pulled out his phone. "Alright, kid. You're serious. Give me your phone."

Alessandro quickly unlocked his phone and handed it over. Cristiano scrolled through his contacts and sent him a list of top trainers in Madrid.

"These guys will push you to your limits. Don't complain when you wake up sore tomorrow." Ronaldo warned.

Alessandro grinned. "That's exactly what I want."

Cristiano nodded in approval, patting Alessandro's shoulder before stepping into his house. Alessandro glanced at the names on his screen, his eyes burning with determination. His Real Madrid journey was just beginning, but he was already laying the foundation for greatness.

[xXx]

Training in Solitude – Alessandro's Unyielding Work Ethic

It was early July, and most of Real Madrid's squad was still on vacation. With only a few academy players and non-international squad members around, the Ciudad Real Madrid training center felt almost deserted. Karim Benzema, who had been part of the swap deal, was settling into life at AC Milan, leaving Alessandro as the only high-profile forward at the facility.

The Grind Begins – Alone but Determined

While his teammates enjoyed their final days of summer, Alessandro was already locked in.

Morning Runs: Before sunrise, he ran through Madrid's quiet streets, breathing in the crisp morning air, pushing his stamina to new levels.

Strength Training: With the gym almost empty, Alessandro had the full attention of Madrid's fitness coaches. They tailored a regimen that improved his speed, strength, and durability—ensuring he could handle La Liga's physicality.

Technical Drills: On the training pitch, he worked endlessly on his finishing, one-touch passing, and close control, perfecting the art of movement that made him lethal at Milan.

Each day felt like a test, but Alessandro embraced the solitude. "When the others return, I'll already be ahead."

Building Bonds with the Backroom Staff

With most first-team players away, Alessandro spent more time with the backroom staff.

The Cleaning Staff: He made the effort to greet them in Spanish, slowly learning their names and sharing laughs.

The Security Guards: Every morning and night, Alessandro would fist-bump them as he walked in and out of the facility. "Long day, huh?" he'd joke, earning their respect.

The Nutritionist: Taking Cristiano Ronaldo's advice seriously, he met regularly with the club's nutritionist, tweaking his diet to maximize his energy and recovery.

One afternoon, Cristiano himself dropped by the facility and saw Alessandro weighing his food before eating.

"I told you," Cristiano smirked. "You need to check what you're eating."

Alessandro grinned. "I'm not taking any chances. I want to be at my best."

Cristiano nodded in approval. "That's the mentality of a champion."

Late-Night Sessions – Pushing the Limits

Even after grueling workouts, Alessandro stayed late at the training ground. Under the floodlights, he practiced free kicks, penalties, and dribbling.

Alone on the pitch, he whispered to himself:
"I didn't come here to just be another player. I came to be great."

And with that, he struck the ball—curling it into the top corner with precision.

By the time Real Madrid's full squad returned next week for pre-season, Alessandro Inzaghi wouldn't just be ready—he'd be ahead of everyone.

[xXx]

A Saturday Visit – Meeting Cristiano's Son

After another grueling morning training session, Alessandro found himself with rare free time. With most of Real Madrid's squad still on vacation, the weekends felt quieter than usual. As he sat on his couch scrolling through his phone, he glanced out the window toward his neighbor's house.

"I should probably drop by and say hi," Alessandro thought.

Cristiano had been instrumental in helping him settle in Madrid, and though they often trained together, Alessandro had never actually visited his house. With that in mind, he decided to walk over and knock on the door.

A Warm Welcome

Cristiano himself answered, dressed casually in a white T-shirt and shorts. He smirked when he saw Alessandro.

"You finally decided to visit, huh?"

"Yeah, figured I'd see how the 'GOAT' spends his weekend," Alessandro chuckled.

Cristiano let out a laugh and stepped aside. "Come in, bro."

The inside of Cristiano's house was just as elegant as expected—modern décor, trophies lining the walls, and a large backyard that featured a football pitch.

Meeting Cristiano Jr.

As Alessandro took in the surroundings, he suddenly heard footsteps rushing toward them. A young boy, around five years old, ran up to Cristiano, hugging his leg.

"Papa! Papa!"

Cristiano smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "Alessandro, meet my son, Cristiano Jr."

Alessandro crouched down to his level and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, little man."

Cristiano Jr. looked up at Alessandro with wide eyes. "You play for Madrid too?"

Alessandro grinned. "I do now."

The boy's face lit up with excitement. "Are you fast like Papa?"

Cristiano let out a proud laugh. "No one's as fast as me."

Alessandro smirked. "Guess we'll have to race to find out."

Cristiano Jr. giggled and looked up at his dad. "Can we?"

Cristiano shook his head, laughing. "Maybe later. First, let's eat something."

A Relaxed Afternoon

The three of them spent the afternoon together. They ate a light lunch while Alessandro and Cristiano talked about football, training, and what it was like adjusting to life in Madrid. Cristiano Jr. sat beside them, listening intently, clearly fascinated by their stories.

At one point, the boy suddenly asked, "Alessandro, are you going to win Ballon d'Or like Papa?"

Alessandro chuckled. "That's the goal, buddy."

Cristiano patted him on the back. "He's got the mindset for it."

As the day went on, Cristiano Jr. brought out a football, eager to play. Alessandro and Cristiano spent the next hour kicking the ball around in the backyard, laughing as they let the boy dribble past them.

For the first time since arriving in Madrid, Alessandro felt at home.

[xXx]

As they continued their lighthearted kickabout in the backyard, Alessandro found himself completely immersed in the moment. Cristiano Jr. was surprisingly skilled for his age, moving the ball with confidence and a hint of his father's trademark flair.

Then it happened.

The little boy feinted to the right before swiftly slotting the ball between Alessandro's legs.

A perfect nutmeg.

For a second, there was silence. Alessandro blinked in disbelief, and then—

"Noooooo!" he playfully exclaimed, falling to his knees in mock agony.

Cristiano, who had been watching from the side, burst into laughter. "Oh my God, that was beautiful!"

Before Alessandro could react, he saw Cristiano holding up his phone—he had recorded the entire thing.

"Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?" Alessandro asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Posting it." Cristiano grinned as he pressed the upload button.

Alessandro gasped in exaggerated horror. "You wouldn't."

"Too late. The world must know."

Cristiano Jr. giggled proudly as Alessandro pulled out his own phone, refreshing his social media feed. Within seconds, the video was already going viral.

The caption?
"Welcome to Madrid, Alessandro. Junior is already teaching him lessons! #NutmegKing"

The comment section exploded with reactions:

"Even Cristiano Jr. is cooking defenders?"

"Alessandro officially humbled. Madrid's initiation is complete!"

"Junior walking in his father's footsteps "

"Inzaghi family, we need a response. No way you let this slide. "

Alessandro shook his head, smiling in defeat. "Alright, I'll take the loss… but I'll get my revenge, Junior. You better be ready next time."

Cristiano Jr. beamed. "I'm always ready!"

Cristiano patted Alessandro on the back, still laughing. "Welcome to Madrid, kid."

The sun had barely risen over Madrid when Alessandro stepped out of his house, dressed in Real Madrid's official training gear. Today was the day he would finally meet his new teammates and coach, Zinedine Zidane, who had also joined the club this season. His heart raced with anticipation.

As he locked his front door, he glanced to his right just in time to see Cristiano Ronaldo walking out of his own house, car keys in hand.

"Morning, young one," Cristiano smirked. "Big day today, huh?"

Alessandro nodded, rolling his shoulders to shake off the nerves. "Yeah. It still feels surreal."

Cristiano chuckled. "You'll get used to it soon enough." Then he gestured to his sleek black Lamborghini. "You got a ride?"

Alessandro scratched the back of his head. "Haven't bought a car yet, and I don't really feel like taking the team bus."

Cristiano grinned and unlocked his car with a tap. "Well then, hop in. No way I'm letting Madrid's newest Galáctico arrive in a bus like a random academy kid."

Alessandro laughed as he got in. "Appreciate it, big bro."

The drive to Ciudad Real Madrid was smooth, with the two sharing banter along the way. Cristiano gave Alessandro some last-minute advice, telling him what to expect and which players he'd likely get along with.

"Ramos is like an older brother to everyone. Modrić and Kroos are super chill. Marcelo? He's always joking around. And Bale—well, he's probably been on the golf course all summer."

Alessandro chuckled at that last remark. "And Zidane?"

Cristiano's expression became serious. "He's a legend, Alessandro. Just like your dad was to Milan, Zidane is to Madrid. He won't treat you any different than the others, but if he believes in you, he'll bring out the best in you."

Alessandro nodded, absorbing every word.

As Cristiano's Lamborghini cruised through the streets of Madrid, Alessandro reached for his phone and connected it to the car's speakers. With a smirk, he scrolled through his playlist and selected a classic—Tupac's "Hit 'Em Up."

The moment the aggressive beat dropped, Cristiano raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. "Really? This is your pre-training music?"

Alessandro grinned. "Man, after everything that happened with Milan, I feel like this is the mood."

Cristiano chuckled. "I respect it. But just don't show up to training looking for a war."

Alessandro laughed, nodding to the rhythm as he stared out the window. "Nah, today's about showing them what I've got. But I won't forget who doubted me."

Cristiano smirked. "That's the mentality, hermano."

As the song played, Alessandro tapped his fingers against his knee, getting lost in the lyrics. This wasn't just a song—it was fuel.

As the beat continued, Alessandro rapped along to the lyrics, fully vibing with the song. But then, to his shock, he heard Cristiano mumbling the words too.

He turned to him, wide-eyed. "Wait… you know this?"

Cristiano smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. "Of course. You think I don't listen to classics?"

Alessandro burst out laughing. "I thought you were all about reggaeton and Portuguese music."

Cristiano shrugged. "I like everything. But this? This is fire."

As they hit the chorus, both of them rapped along, their voices rising in unison. The Lamborghini's speakers blasted Tupac's raw energy through the Madrid streets, making it feel like the perfect prelude to Alessandro's first day with the squad.

As the song faded, Cristiano glanced at Alessandro and smirked. "Now, don't bring that attitude to training. I don't need you starting beef already."

Alessandro chuckled. "No promises."

As they approached the training ground, he could already see the gates buzzing with cameras and reporters, all eager to get the first glimpse of Real Madrid's newest number 9.

"Alright," Cristiano said as he parked. "Time to meet the family."

Alessandro took a deep breath, opened the car door, and stepped out.

[xXx]

As they arrived at Ciudad Real Madrid, Cristiano parked his Lamborghini in the players' lot, but before they even reached the entrance, Alessandro was already waving and exchanging greetings.

"¡Buenos días, José!" he called out to one of the security guards at the main gate. The older man smiled and gave him a respectful nod. "Buenos días, Alessandro. Ready for the season?"

"Always!" Alessandro grinned before turning to Cristiano. "José was the first guy I met here. He let me in early when I showed up before sunrise last week."

As they walked inside, Alessandro continued greeting familiar faces. He fist-bumped a janitor, gave a playful nod to one of the kitchen staff, and even exchanged a joke with one of the fitness coaches.

Cristiano raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You've only been here for a week, and you already know everyone?"

Alessandro smirked. "Of course. Milanello was the same way. These people keep the club running. You gotta show them respect."

Cristiano chuckled. "I like that. You're a real people's person, huh?"

"I try," Alessandro shrugged. "Besides, it makes life easier when you're friends with the people who actually make things happen."

Cristiano patted him on the shoulder. "You're gonna fit in just fine here, kid."

With that, they stepped into the dressing room, where Alessandro was about to meet his new teammates for the first time.

[xXx]

As Alessandro and Cristiano entered the dressing room, the atmosphere was lighthearted, with players chatting and catching up after their vacations. Some were stretching, others joking around, but all eyes turned when Cristiano walked in with the newest Galáctico.

Sergio Ramos, the club captain, was the first to step forward. "So, this is the wonderkid we've been hearing about, huh?" he said with a smirk, extending his hand.

Alessandro grinned and shook it firmly. "Pleasure to be here, Capitán."

One by one, the other players greeted him. Luka Modrić gave him a warm nod, James Rodríguez playfully patted his shoulder, and Isco joked, "Hope you can handle the pressure, kid. Madrid is a whole different world."

"I was born for this," Alessandro responded with a confident smile, earning an approving look from some of his new teammates.

Just then, the room fell silent as Zinedine Zidane entered. Dressed in Real Madrid training gear, he had an aura of authority yet calmness about him.

"Buenos días, chicos," Zidane greeted. "I hope you all enjoyed your vacations because now, it's time to work."

The players focused as Zidane continued.

"First things first, welcome to the team, Alessandro. We know what you can do, and we expect you to prove it here."

Alessandro nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Mister. I won't disappoint."

"Good," Zidane nodded before addressing the entire squad. "We have big goals this season. La Liga, the Champions League, the Copa del Rey—we compete for everything. That means discipline, hard work, and unity. We are Real Madrid, and we must always be the best."

The players listened intently as Zidane then revealed the pre-season plans.

"We'll be heading to the United States for our pre-season tour. We'll play against top clubs, including PSG, Manchester United, and Chelsea. This will be our first test, and I expect full commitment from every one of you."

A few murmurs of excitement spread through the dressing room. A pre-season tour in the U.S. meant packed stadiums, huge crowds, and world-class opposition.

Zidane clapped his hands together. "Enough talking. Let's get to work."

With that, the players changed into their training kits and headed out to the pitch. Alessandro took a deep breath, knowing this was his first official session with Real Madrid. A new chapter had begun.

As training began, the squad started with light drills—passing exercises, rondos, and small possession games. Alessandro moved smoothly, adapting quickly to the rhythm of Real Madrid's training sessions.

Zidane and the coaching staff watched closely, assessing how the young Italian integrated with his new teammates. At first, Alessandro kept things simple, making smart passes and positioning himself well. But as the session intensified, he started showing glimpses of what made him worth 100 million.

During sprint drills, Alessandro kept pace with Cristiano, matching his speed stride for stride. Some of the players noticed and exchanged impressed glances.

"Damn, the kid's got legs," Marcelo muttered to Luka Modrić.

In a 5v5 small-sided game, Alessandro found himself on Cristiano's team. The two linked up naturally, exchanging quick passes and making dangerous runs. At one point, Alessandro received a long ball from Toni Kroos, controlled it with his chest, and flicked it over Sergio Ramos before blasting a volley past Keylor Navas.

The squad let out a mix of laughter and gasps.

"¡Qué locura!" Dani Carvajal exclaimed. "That was Ronaldinho-level flair!"

Cristiano smirked, walking up to Alessandro and patting his shoulder. "Not bad, kid. But let's see you do it consistently."

Zidane, standing on the sidelines, nodded in approval but remained composed. "Good movement, Alessandro. Keep working."

Then came the final endurance test—high-intensity interval running. It was known as Cristiano's drill because the Portuguese legend always dominated it. Alessandro, however, was determined to push himself.

Lap after lap, he stayed right beside Cristiano, refusing to drop behind. The team noticed. Some smiled, others were surprised.

By the last sprint, Alessandro actually edged ahead by half a step. Cristiano looked over, breathing heavily but smiling.

"You're fast," he admitted. "But I'm still stronger."

Alessandro smirked. "For now."

The training session ended, and as the players walked off, many patted Alessandro on the back.

"You'll fit right in here, kid," Sergio Ramos said. "Just keep this energy."

Zidane approached Alessandro before he left the pitch. "You impressed today. But remember, one session means nothing. At Real Madrid, we prove ourselves every day."

Alessandro nodded. "Understood, Mister."

As he walked towards the locker room, he couldn't help but smile. His first day at Real Madrid had been a success.

As Alessandro sat down in front of his locker, toweling off the sweat from the intense training session, he found himself reminiscing about his hairstyles over the years.

In the 2013/14 season, he had kept his natural, slightly wavy hair, the same thick dark locks he inherited from his father, Filippo. Then, leading up to the 2014 World Cup, he let it grow out, and by the tournament, it was long enough to tie into a ponytail—a look he maintained throughout the 2014/15 season, paired with a headband, reminiscent of Ronaldinho.

But now, a new chapter had begun. Real Madrid. The Galácticos. He wanted to change things up.

Turning to Cristiano, who was fixing his own hair in the mirror, Alessandro smirked. "Hey, Cris, can I use your barber? I'm thinking of trying a new cut for the 2015/16 season."

Cristiano raised an eyebrow, glancing at Alessandro's tied-back hair. "Finally! I was waiting for you to say that." He chuckled. "You're at Real Madrid now, kid. Image matters. I'll call my guy."

Marcelo, overhearing, grinned. "Just don't go full bald like Zidane!"

The locker room erupted in laughter as Alessandro shook his head. "Don't worry, I won't. I still need to figure out what I want, though."

Cristiano took out his phone and sent a quick message to his personal barber. "He'll come by later. Trust me, you'll look sharp."

Alessandro nodded. A new club, a new challenge, and soon, a new look.

Later that evening, Alessandro sat in Cristiano's home as the barber arrived, setting up his tools in front of a large mirror.

He had already made up his mind—he wanted the same haircut David Villa had in the 2010/11 Champions League Final against Manchester United. A short, textured cut with a sharp fade on the sides, keeping a bit more length on top. It was clean, stylish, and fierce—perfect for a striker.

As the barber started working, Cristiano leaned back in his chair, watching with amusement. "Villa, huh? Good choice. He was a killer in front of goal."

Alessandro nodded. "Yeah. He was just like me. An ambidextrous attacker." He smirked. "Plus, back when I played FIFA 07 on my PSP, I used to always buy him when I managed AC Milan. I wanted to bring in some youth."

Cristiano chuckled. "PSP? Man, you're making me feel old."

Marcelo, who had joined them, laughed. "Don't worry, Cris. You're still young at heart."

Alessandro grinned as he glanced at the mirror. The barber was finishing up, running a razor along the edges to sharpen the fade. As he examined his new look, he felt a sense of renewal. A new club. A new look. A new chapter.

Cristiano gave an approving nod. "You look sharp. Madridista approved."

Alessandro smirked. "Now let's see if the goals come like Villa's too."

As Alessandro admired his fresh cut in the mirror, he suddenly heard the unmistakable click of a camera shutter.

Turning around, he saw Cristiano grinning, phone in hand.

"Wait—did you just take a picture?" Alessandro asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cristiano smirked. "Of course. Gotta show the world Madrid's new number 9 looking fresh."

Before Alessandro could protest, Cristiano had already uploaded the picture to Instagram. The caption?

"New season. New look. New Galáctico. #HalaMadrid #AlessandroInzaghi"

Within seconds, the comments exploded.

"Damn, Alessandro looking sharp! Madrid got themselves a killer!"
"CR7 passing the torch?"
"Bro really said let me cook with that David Villa cut."
"Milan fans crying in the club rn."
"Watch Alessandro drop a hat-trick on his debut with this cut."

Alessandro shook his head in disbelief. "Bro, you just set the internet on fire."

Cristiano laughed, leaning back. "Welcome to Madrid, hermano. Get used to it."

During their intense training sessions for the upcoming pre-season tour in the United States, the Real Madrid players had to take part in several sponsorship commitments, including Audi and Nivea Men commercials.

While some of his teammates found it a bit tedious, Alessandro took to it surprisingly well.

On set for the Audi commercial, Alessandro effortlessly delivered his lines, switched between serious and playful expressions, and even perfected the art of the slow-motion car exit—all in one take. The director was impressed. "Natural talent! Have you done this before?"

Alessandro chuckled. "I used to take acting classes back in school. Thought it'd be useful someday."

Later, for the Nivea Men commercial, he smoothly applied the skincare product, flashed a confident smirk at the camera, and ran his hand through his new David Villa-inspired haircut.

Cristiano, watching from the side, shook his head with a grin. "This kid… first football, now acting? What's next?"

Alessandro laughed. "I'll stick to football… for now."

By the time both commercials wrapped up, the directors and brand representatives were beyond pleased. Some of the staff even joked that Alessandro might have a future in Hollywood if he ever got tired of football.

Little did they know, his real focus was proving himself in Madrid's legendary white shirt—and the world would soon see what he was truly capable of.

[xXx]

After wrapping up the commercials and heading back to his new home in Madrid, Alessandro decided to check up on his father via video call.

As soon as Filippo answered, he greeted his son with a grin. "Look at you, Hollywood star! I saw those commercials—maybe I should start calling you Alessandro DiCaprio!"

Alessandro chuckled. "Oh, come on, Dad. It was just a few ads. I still don't get why people think I'd be good in movies."

Filippo smirked. "Because you have charisma, son. But more importantly, how's Madrid treating you?"

Alessandro leaned back on his couch. "It's been good. I've settled in, met my teammates, and I've been training hard. I even got a new haircut—Cristiano set me up with his barber."

Filippo raised an eyebrow. "You? Changing your hair? That's a first."

Alessandro smirked. "Hey, new club, new look."

His father nodded approvingly. "Good. Just don't change who you are inside. Remember, talent got you here, but hard work will keep you here."

Alessandro felt a wave of warmth hearing that. "I know, Dad. You raised me well."

Filippo leaned back in his chair, glancing at the Sevilla logo on his polo shirt. "You know, it's funny—we're both in Spain now, just in different provinces. Who would've thought?"

Alessandro chuckled. "Yeah. I guess I won't have to travel far when we face each other in La Liga."

Filippo smirked. "Just don't expect any favors, Ale. If I have to beat Real Madrid, I will."

Alessandro grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Dad."

The two continued talking, discussing Sevilla's preparations for the new season and how Filippo was adjusting to life in Andalusia. Even though they were now in different cities, their bond remained as strong as ever.

As the call ended, Alessandro sat in silence for a moment, staring at the screen before putting his phone down.

No matter how big he got, how famous he became, his father's words would always be his guiding light.

As the sun rose over Madrid, Alessandro grabbed his duffel bag and made his way downstairs, where Cristiano was already waiting for him by his car. The two were about to embark on their first pre-season together, heading to the United States for Real Madrid's summer tour.

Alessandro tossed his bag into the trunk and got into the passenger seat. "Man, I can't believe we're actually going to the U.S. for pre-season. I've never been there for that long."

Cristiano smirked. "It's great, trust me. Big crowds, amazing facilities, and the weather is perfect for training. You'll love it."

As they pulled out of the driveway, Alessandro suddenly thought of something. "Wait, what about Junior? Who's taking care of him while we're away?"

Cristiano kept his eyes on the road but smiled slightly. "My mom is staying with him. She takes care of everything when I'm gone."

Alessandro nodded, remembering how Cristiano's mother, Dolores, had always been a big part of his life. "That's nice. Family is everything, huh?"

Cristiano glanced at him and grinned. "Always."

With that, the two continued their drive to meet up with the rest of the Real Madrid squad at the airport, ready to embark on their American adventure.

[xXx]

Pre-Season Friendly: Real Madrid vs. PSG

Venue: Rose Bowl, Los Angeles, California
Date: July 2015

Kickoff:

Under the bright lights of the Rose Bowl, the Real Madrid 2015/16 squad stepped onto the field for their highly anticipated pre-season clash against Paris Saint-Germain. Alessandro Inzaghi, wearing the number 9 jersey, stood beside Cristiano Ronaldo, Karim Benzema's departure making him the focal point of Madrid's attack.

Zinedine Zidane had started Alessandro as the lone striker in a 4-3-3 formation, with Cristiano Ronaldo and Gareth Bale flanking him.

From the opening whistle, Alessandro was hungry, moving sharply, pressing defenders, and linking up well with Luka Modrić and Toni Kroos in midfield.

First Goal - 21st Minute

Assist: Marcelo

Marcelo, playing with his usual flair, danced past his marker on the left flank before curling a dangerous cross into the box. Alessandro, anticipating the delivery, peeled away from Thiago Silva and met the ball with a perfectly timed diving header—BOOM! The ball nestled into the bottom corner.

The Madrid fans erupted, chanting his name as Alessandro jumped to his feet, pounding his chest before pointing at Marcelo in appreciation.

Ronaldo rushed over, playfully ruffling Alessandro's hair before they high-fived.

Second Goal - 39th Minute

Assist: Luka Modrić

PSG had pushed high, leaving space behind. Modrić spotted Alessandro making a run and played a beautiful outside-of-the-boot through ball that split the defense. Alessandro raced past David Luiz, controlled the ball with his left foot, and quickly fired a low shot past Kevin Trapp into the far post.

GOOOOOOOOOL!

Alessandro slid on his knees, roaring in excitement. Ramos and Bale mobbed him, while Ronaldo clapped in approval.

Hat-Trick Goal - 68th Minute

Assist: Cristiano Ronaldo

With Real Madrid leading 2-1, Alessandro sensed an opportunity for his hat-trick. Ronaldo, cutting inside from the left, drew two defenders before spotting Alessandro making a late run into the box. Instead of shooting, he laid off a perfect pass.

Alessandro took one touch, quickly looked up, and with his weak foot, smashed the ball into the top-right corner.

The crowd went insane. The Madrid bench stood up and cheered as Alessandro ran towards the corner flag, overwhelmed with emotion.

Just as he was about to celebrate, Ronaldo suddenly grabbed him from behind and lifted him onto his back—a moment reminiscent of when Ronaldinho gave Messi a piggyback ride after his first Barcelona goal.

The cameras flashed, capturing an iconic moment—Cristiano Ronaldo, the legend, carrying the young Italian prodigy on his back.

Full-Time:

Real Madrid 3-1 PSG
Alessandro Inzaghi (21', 39', 68')

After the final whistle, Alessandro and Ronaldo exchanged knowing looks before embracing. This was a message to the world—Alessandro Inzaghi had arrived at Real Madrid, and he wasn't here to be a passenger.

[xXx]

Real Madrid's Pre-Season Tour – Alessandro Inzaghi's Integration

After his hat-trick heroics against PSG, Alessandro Inzaghi's confidence skyrocketed. The Real Madrid pre-season tour across the United States continued with dominant performances as Alessandro seamlessly gelled with his teammates, making an instant impact.

Match 2: Real Madrid vs. Manchester United (Levi's Stadium, California)

Score: Real Madrid 2-0 Man United
Scorers: Alessandro (1 goal), Isco (1 goal)

Facing a Manchester United side managed by Louis van Gaal, Alessandro showcased his adaptability by playing a more withdrawn role as a second striker. He assisted Isco for the opening goal with a clever flick inside the box before scoring one himself—a rocket shot from outside the area that left David de Gea frozen.

Post-Match:
Cristiano Ronaldo gave him a pat on the back, while Sergio Ramos jokingly told him, "At this rate, you'll be captain next season."

Match 3: Real Madrid vs. Chelsea (MetLife Stadium, New Jersey)

Score: Real Madrid 3-1 Chelsea
Scorers: Alessandro (1 goal), Ronaldo (1 goal), James Rodríguez (1 goal)

The game against Jose Mourinho's Chelsea was a battle of high intensity. Alessandro scored Madrid's second goal, pouncing on a loose ball after a rebound from Thibaut Courtois' save on Bale's shot. He coolly placed it into the bottom corner before celebrating by pointing to the Real Madrid badge—a sign of his growing love for the club.

Post-Match:
Journalists couldn't stop talking about how quickly Alessandro was adapting. His teammates, especially the midfield trio of Kroos, Modrić, and James, were impressed by his movement and decision-making.

The Bond with Gareth Bale – Roommates & Golf Fanatics

During the pre-season tour, Alessandro was roommates with Gareth Bale. The Welshman, known for his love of golf, was pleasantly surprised when Alessandro started a conversation about the sport.

Alessandro: "If football wasn't my passion, I swear I'd have been a golfer."
Bale (grinning): "Mate, I've never heard that from a footballer before. I gotta take you to the course one day."

From that day on, whenever they had free time, they watched golf tournaments together in their hotel room, discussing technique, swings, and the mental game. Alessandro, being a sports fanatic, absorbed everything, and Bale found it refreshing to talk about something other than football.

During one team golf outing arranged by the club, Alessandro surprisingly impressed Bale by sinking a difficult putt, leading the Welshman to laugh, "Damn, you weren't joking. You really have the touch."

The duo's bond grew stronger, and Alessandro's easygoing nature helped him build friendships with the entire squad.

Match 4: Real Madrid vs. Bayern Munich (Final - International Champions Cup, Soldier Field, Chicago)

Final Score: Real Madrid 3-2 Bayern Munich
Scorers: Alessandro (2 goals), Ronaldo (1 goal)

The pre-season final saw Zidane's side facing Pep Guardiola's Bayern Munich. Alessandro opened the scoring in the 8th minute, chipping Manuel Neuer after a through ball from James Rodríguez.

His second goal was a thunderous volley from a Bale cross in the second half, putting Madrid ahead. Ronaldo sealed the victory late on, securing the International Champions Cup trophy.

Post-Tournament Celebration

As Real Madrid lifted the pre-season trophy, Alessandro couldn't help but smile. It was his first piece of silverware with Los Blancos, and even though it was just a friendly competition, it signaled that he was ready for the real battles ahead.

Florentino Pérez congratulated him after the match, saying:
️ "This is just the beginning, Alessandro. You're already making history."

As the squad flew back to Spain, Alessandro leaned back in his seat, headphones in, staring at the Madrid skyline through the airplane window.

He was ready for the real season.
La Liga, the Champions League, El Clásico—his journey with Real Madrid had only just begun.

August Arrives – Alessandro Watches His Father's Sevilla Face Barcelona in the UEFA Super Cup

After weeks of intense training and integrating into Real Madrid's squad, August finally arrived, marking the start of the 2015/16 football season. The excitement of competitive football was back, but on one particular evening, Alessandro Inzaghi wasn't focused on his own club—he was watching his father, Filippo Inzaghi, take charge of Sevilla against FC Barcelona in the 2015 UEFA Super Cup in Tbilisi, Georgia.

Alessandro's Evening – A Son Supporting His Father

After finishing his strength training session at Ciudad Real Madrid, Alessandro returned to his luxurious home in Madrid, made himself comfortable on the couch, and turned on the live broadcast of the match. A mix of excitement and nervousness filled him—this was his father's first official match as Sevilla's manager, and it was against a treble-winning Barcelona side featuring Lionel Messi, Luis Suárez, and Neymar.

As the camera panned to the Sevilla dugout, Alessandro couldn't help but smile. His father looked sharp in his black suit, arms folded, intensely focused.

Alessandro (muttering): "Come on, Dad… show them what you've got."

The Match Begins – A Goal Fest in Tbilisi

The match turned into an instant classic—one of the most thrilling UEFA Super Cup finals in history. Sevilla took the lead early, but Messi responded with two stunning free-kick goals. Alessandro groaned when he saw how effortlessly the Argentine curled the ball into the top corner.

Alessandro (smirking): "Classic Messi."

Despite going down 4-1, Sevilla made a remarkable comeback, eventually equalizing 4-4 in the 81st minute. Alessandro was on the edge of his seat, fists clenched as Sevilla pushed for a winner.

Alessandro (grinning): "Damn, Dad… you really made these guys fight."

However, heartbreak struck in extra time when Pedro Rodríguez scored the decisive goal for Barcelona, making it 5-4. Alessandro sighed, leaning back on the couch as he watched his father's reaction—Filippo was clearly disappointed but still applauded his players for their incredible effort.

Post-Match – A Call from Father to Son

Once the match ended, Alessandro immediately grabbed his phone and video-called his father. When Filippo answered, Alessandro could see the exhaustion in his face but also a hint of pride.

Alessandro: "Papà, that was insane! You almost pulled it off!"
Filippo (sighing, then chuckling): "Almost doesn't count, son. But I'm proud of the boys."
Alessandro: "Messi's free-kicks… nothing you could do about those. But your team had heart."
Filippo: "Yeah… and you? Ready for your own season?"
Alessandro (grinning): "Always."

As the call ended, Alessandro sat back, feeling more inspired than ever. His father had already made his mark at Sevilla, and now it was his turn to shine at Real Madrid.

With La Liga's opening weekend approaching, he knew that his own journey in Spain was just beginning.

The Supercopa de España – Alessandro's First Taste of El Clásico

Before the opening weekend of La Liga, Real Madrid had their first major challenge of the season—the Supercopa de España, a two-legged showdown against arch-rivals FC Barcelona. Since Real Madrid had finished second in La Liga while Barcelona had won both La Liga and the Copa del Rey, Los Blancos were given the chance to compete for the first domestic trophy of the season.

For Alessandro, this was more than just a trophy—it was his first El Clásico, the fiercest rivalry in world football. The chance to face Lionel Messi, Neymar, and Luis Suárez on such a massive stage had him burning with anticipation.

Alessandro's Determination – Training with a Purpose

Every training session leading up to the match was filled with intensity. Alessandro pushed himself harder than ever—perfecting his finishing, dribbling, and tactical movements under the watchful eye of Zinedine Zidane and the coaching staff.

One evening, after a long shooting drill, Cristiano Ronaldo walked up to him, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Cristiano: "You're working like a madman, kid."
Alessandro (grinning): "It's Barça. I want to be ready."
Cristiano (nodding approvingly): "Good. Because in El Clásico, you don't just play—you make history."

Alessandro felt a surge of excitement at those words. This wasn't just any game. This was a battle for supremacy.

Matchday 1st Leg – Camp Nou, Barcelona

The first leg was played at the Camp Nou, in front of nearly 100,000 fans. As Alessandro stepped onto the pitch, the roar of the Barcelona faithful was deafening. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Starting up front alongside Cristiano Ronaldo and Gareth Bale, Alessandro felt his heart racing. But as soon as the referee blew the whistle, his nerves disappeared—he was ready for war.

Match Highlights:

Barcelona dominated early, with Messi dictating play.

Neymar scored first, curling in a stunning goal past Keylor Navas. (1-0)

Alessandro made his mark, setting up Cristiano Ronaldo for the equalizer with a perfectly timed through-ball. (1-1)

In the 80th minute, Alessandro had a golden chance, cutting inside Gerard Piqué before rifling a shot into the top corner. GOAL! (1-2)

Final Score: Barcelona 1-2 Real Madrid – A huge away victory.

Matchday 2nd Leg – Santiago Bernabéu, Madrid

With a 2-1 advantage, Real Madrid returned home for the decisive second leg. The Santiago Bernabéu was a fortress, packed with Madridistas eager to celebrate a title victory.

Match Highlights:

Cristiano Ronaldo opened the scoring with a bullet header. (1-0, 3-1 aggregate)

Messi responded with a beautiful solo goal, making it 1-1. (3-2 aggregate)

In the 75th minute, Alessandro showed his magic, dribbling past two defenders before nutmegging Ter Stegen for his second El Clásico goal. (2-1, 4-2 aggregate)

Final Score: Real Madrid 2-1 Barcelona (4-2 aggregate)

Real Madrid Wins the Supercopa de España!

The final whistle blew, and Alessandro Inzaghi had won his first trophy with Real Madrid! The players lifted him in celebration, and Cristiano pulled him into a tight embrace.

Cristiano: "You did it, kid! Your first El Clásico and your first trophy."
Alessandro (grinning): "And it won't be my last."

As Florentino Pérez handed Alessandro his winner's medal, he looked around at the celebrating fans and his teammates. This was just the beginning—his era in Madrid had officially started.

[xXx]

La Liga 2015/16 – Matchweek 1

Sporting Gijón vs. Real Madrid
Estadio El Molinón – August 23, 2015

The moment had arrived. Alessandro Inzaghi's La Liga debut. He had felt the rush of playing in El Clásico during the Supercopa de España, but now, the real campaign was beginning.

As the team stepped onto the Estadio El Molinón pitch, Alessandro could feel the electric atmosphere. The Madridistas who traveled to Asturias chanted his name alongside Cristiano Ronaldo's and Gareth Bale's.

Kickoff – Real Madrid Dominates Early

From the start, Real Madrid controlled possession, with Toni Kroos and Luka Modrić dictating the tempo. Alessandro, wearing the iconic No. 9 jersey, was full of energy, making quick off-the-ball runs and pressing Sporting Gijón's defenders.

20th Minute – Alessandro's First Assist

Receiving a low pass from Kroos, Alessandro took a single touch before lofting a beautiful chipped pass over the defense.

Gareth Bale charged forward and smashed the ball into the net!

GOAL! Sporting Gijón 0-1 Real Madrid

Alessandro and Bale high-fived, with Bale pointing at him in appreciation.

34th Minute – Alessandro's Second Assist

Real Madrid won a corner kick. James Rodríguez stepped up to take it.

Alessandro, near the penalty spot, saw Cristiano Ronaldo making a back-post run.

With a perfectly timed flick-on header, Alessandro guided the ball into Ronaldo's path, allowing the Portuguese superstar to tap it home.

GOAL! Sporting Gijón 0-2 Real Madrid

Cristiano grabbed Alessandro by the shoulders, shaking him in excitement. "That was brilliant, kid!"

65th Minute – Alessandro's First La Liga Goal!

As Real Madrid countered with speed, Modrić sent a through ball toward Alessandro, who outran his marker with explosive pace.

One-on-one with the goalkeeper, Alessandro performed a quick step-over before dinking a cheeky chip over the advancing keeper.

The ball kissed the crossbar and bounced into the net.

GOAL! Sporting Gijón 0-3 Real Madrid

Alessandro spread his arms wide in celebration before Cristiano ran up and lifted him onto his back, similar to how Ronaldinho once lifted Messi after his first Barcelona goal.

Final Score: Sporting Gijón 0-3 Real Madrid
Alessandro's Stats: 1 Goal, 2 Assists, 92% Pass Accuracy, 4 Dribbles Completed
Man of the Match: Alessandro Inzaghi

La Liga 2015/16 – Matchweek 2

Real Madrid vs. Real Betis
Santiago Bernabéu – August 29, 2015

It was time for Alessandro's home debut at the Santiago Bernabéu. The stadium was packed with 80,000 fans, all eager to see their new No. 9 in action.

Before Kickoff:

As Alessandro stepped onto the pitch, he took a deep breath, looking around at the sea of white shirts.

He remembered playing at San Siro for Milan, but this... this was different. This was Madrid.

Kickoff – Madrid Starts Aggressively

15th Minute – Alessandro's First Goal of the Night

James Rodríguez received the ball on the left wing, spotting Alessandro making a run behind the defense.

With a pinpoint cross, James found Alessandro, who leaped high and powered a header into the net!

GOAL! Real Madrid 1-0 Real Betis

Alessandro turned to the crowd and kissed the Real Madrid badge, showing his love for the club.

42nd Minute – Alessandro's Assist to Ronaldo

After an interception by Sergio Ramos, Real Madrid launched a fast counterattack.

Alessandro sprinted down the right flank, drawing two defenders before back-heeling the ball into Ronaldo's path.

Cristiano fired a rocket into the top corner!

GOAL! Real Madrid 2-0 Real Betis

Ronaldo ran toward Alessandro, pointing at him. "That was world-class!"

79th Minute – Alessandro's Second Goal

Toni Kroos switched play to the left, where Marcelo delivered a low cross into the box.

Alessandro dummied the ball, letting it roll through his legs, fooling the defender before blasting a left-footed shot past the keeper!

GOAL! Real Madrid 3-0 Real Betis

Alessandro sprinted toward the corner flag, sliding on his knees while pointing to the fans.

Final Score: Real Madrid 3-0 Real Betis
Alessandro's Stats: 2 Goals, 1 Assist, 88% Pass Accuracy, 5 Successful Dribbles
Man of the Match: Alessandro Inzaghi

Post-Match & Alessandro's Rising Star

After two incredible performances in La Liga, Alessandro's name was all over the media.

MARCA Headline: "Madrid's New Superstar – Alessandro Shines Again!"
AS Headline: "Alessandro & Cristiano – A Deadly Duo"

On social media, Alessandro's fanbase skyrocketed, and even legends like Raúl and Ronaldo Nazário praised his performances.

Cristiano Ronaldo (Instagram Story): "The kid is special. Welcome to Madrid, AlessandroInzaghi9!"
David Villa (Twitter): "Watching AlessandroInzaghi9 play brings back memories of my younger days. Ambidextrous strikers are rare. He's a gem."

Alessandro was beginning to realize—this wasn't just a great start. This was the beginning of something truly special.

International Break – Alessandro Joins the Azzurri

With two back-to-back Man of the Match performances for Real Madrid, Alessandro had once again been called up to the Italy national team for their European Championship qualifiers.

Madrid Airport – A Father-Son Call

As Alessandro sat in the backseat of the luxury SUV taking him to Adolfo Suárez Madrid–Barajas Airport, he pulled out his phone and video-called his father, Filippo Inzaghi.

The screen lit up, and soon, his father's familiar face appeared, sitting in his Sevilla office.

Filippo: "Mio figlio! Already leaving for Italy, huh?"

Alessandro: "Yeah, I'm heading to the airport now. Can't believe it's international break already."

Filippo: "Time flies when you're scoring goals, huh?" he chuckled.

Alessandro smirked, adjusting his Real Madrid tracksuit jacket.

Alessandro: "Guess so. You watched the Betis match, right?"

Filippo: "Of course! Two goals, one assist... you're playing like an Inzaghi but with more flair."

Alessandro: laughs "I guess I got that from playing on the streets as a kid."

Filippo smiled proudly.

Filippo: "Your mother would've been so proud, Ale."

At that, Alessandro felt a pang in his heart but smiled softly.

Alessandro: "I know, Dad. I think about her every time I step on the pitch."

There was a brief silence before Filippo lightened the mood.

Filippo: "So, how's Madrid treating you? And don't just say 'good'—I want details."

Alessandro: "Well, I got a huge house, which I think is too big, but Perez says I'm a Galáctico, so... And guess what? Cristiano is my neighbor."

Filippo: laughs "Mamma mia! You're in good company, then. Training with him must be something else."

Alessandro: "Yeah, and we've been training together every morning. He even introduced me to his son, who nutmegged me and got it posted on Instagram!"

Filippo burst into laughter.

Filippo: "That's amazing! You're making memories, Ale. Keep enjoying the journey."

Just then, Alessandro's driver announced that they had arrived at the airport.

Alessandro: "I gotta go, Dad. Flight to Rome is in an hour."

Filippo: "Alright, good luck with the Azzurri! And if you score, give me a call after the match."

Alessandro: "You know I will. Love you, Dad."

Filippo: "Ti voglio bene, figlio mio."

As the call ended, Alessandro grabbed his duffel bag, put on his sunglasses, and stepped out of the SUV. The cameras were already flashing, reporters calling out his name.

With a smirk, he walked into the airport—ready to represent Italy once again.

[xXx]

Checking In on the World – Alessandro's Instagram Scroll

As the private jet cruised through the skies en route to Rome, Alessandro reclined in his first-class seat, plugged in his AirPods, and pulled out his phone. With a few taps, he opened Instagram and scrolled through his most recent posts.

First Post – Filippo Signs for Sevilla

️ A picture of Filippo holding up a Sevilla jersey at his presentation, Alessandro standing proudly beside him.

Top Comments:
SerieA_Legends: "The Inzaghi legacy continues in Spain! "
SevillaFCfans: "Bienvenido, Mister Inzaghi! Can't wait to see what you do with the team! ️"
AzzurriUpdates: "A great manager raising a world-class son. Football heritage."
RealMilanisti97: "Never forget he was disrespected by Milan. FORZA FILIPPO FOREVER! "

Alessandro smirked. His father was finally getting the respect he deserved.

Second Post – Alessandro Signs for Real Madrid

️ A picture of Alessandro shaking hands with Florentino Pérez, the Real Madrid jersey in his hands with the iconic No.9 on the back.

Top Comments:
BenzemaFanpage: "Madness. We lose Karim, and we get a younger lethal Inzaghi in return. Let's gooo! "
MadridXtra: "100M Benzema, and this kid already looks worth every euro."
MilanCurvaSud: "We lost both Inzaghi's in two days… I don't feel so good. "
KendallJ:

Alessandro blinked at Kendall Jenner's comment. "This girl again?" he muttered with a small chuckle.

Third Post – Winning the Pre-Season Cup

️ Alessandro holding the trophy with Cristiano Ronaldo, Gareth Bale, and Luka Modrić beside him, all grinning.

Top Comments:
ChampionsLeague: "The first trophy of many?"
AzzurriFansItalia: "Even in Madrid, Alessandro Inzaghi is winning! "
CR7JrFanpage: "Bro played one game with Cristiano and already won a cup. Different breed."

Fourth Post – Beating Barcelona in His First El Clásico

️ A celebratory moment—Alessandro with arms outstretched, Ronaldo giving him a piggyback ride after scoring against Barcelona.

Top Comments:
LaLigaOfficial: "From one generation to the next. A star is born."
ESPNFC: "He made his Clásico debut look EASY. "
BarcaFanXD: "Damn… this kid's actually scary."
KendallJ:

Alessandro laughed and shook his head. "She just doesn't stop, huh?"

Fifth Post – Called Up to the Azzurri

️ A picture of Alessandro in his Italy kit, captioned: "Always an honor to represent my country! Forza Azzurri! "

Top Comments:
ItalyNT: "Welcome back, Alessandro! Time to make magic happen! "
PirloAndrea: "Grande, ragazzo! "
MaldiniPaolo: "Proud of you, Alessandro. Keep making history."

Seeing Pirlo and Maldini comment made Alessandro's heart warm. He admired them deeply, and their words meant everything.

Locking his phone, he sighed, feeling a mixture of pride, excitement, and responsibility. The world was watching, expecting greatness.

And Alessandro Inzaghi was ready to deliver.