If underestimating Renzo's vision was Roberto Martínez's first mistake, then relying on outdated scouting reports was his second.
Gareth Barry, a man with 17 years of Premier League scars, was currently enduring "Military Training" at the hands of a teenager. Every time Barry stepped up, Renzo used his newly refined 80 Dribbling to ghost past him. It wasn't just a physical defeat; it was psychological.
"Poor ball control?" Barry thought, gasping for air as Renzo executed a perfect step-over. "The gaffer told me he was raw. If this is raw, then I'm a Sunday League amateur!"
On the sidelines, Martínez was berating his analysts. "Did you make this report up in a pub?! Look at him! He's playing like Iniesta and you told me he's a 'static turret'!"
Renzo didn't let the success go to his head. He knew his limits. He wasn't Messi; he was a Regista. He used his dribbling only to buy the yard of space he needed to do what he did best: destroy defenses with a single touch.
In the 63rd minute, Renzo received a fizzed pass from Badelj. Barry lunged, but Renzo didn't even turn. He took the ball on the half-volley, a cushioned outside-of-the-foot flick that bypassed the entire Everton midfield.
[Mission Objective 3: Threatening Passes (6/6) - COMPLETED]
[Mission Objective 2: Assists (2/1) - COMPLETED]
The ball was a guided missile aimed at the left flank. Mohamed Salah, the man Chelsea didn't want, ignited his afterburners. He didn't even have to break his stride. Salah cut inside, leaving Seamus Coleman in the dust, and slotted a cool, low finish into the far corner.
2-1. (Aggregate 3-2).
Goodison Park was stunned. The "Premier League Rejects" were leading.
"McCarthy! Get over there!" Martínez screamed, his composure finally shattering. "Barry, McCarthy—Double-lock him! I don't care about the wings anymore. If Renzo breathes, I want both of you in his lungs!"
Everton shifted. They abandoned their tactical shape to implement a "Double-Strangulation" on Renzo. Two of the most physical midfielders in England were now converging on the 16-year-old, eyes full of predatory intent.
Renzo looked up and saw the twin walls of blue closing in. But before they could reach him, a shadow fell across the grass.
Milan Badelj—the "Wild Bull"—didn't go to the ball. He stepped directly into the path of James McCarthy. He didn't say a word, his face a mask of Balkan stone, but his posture was clear.
You want to touch the kid? You go through the Bull.
"Two on one?" Badelj muttered, his voice a low growl that McCarthy could hear over the crowd. "Did I give you permission to move?"
The stadium held its breath. The "Regista" had his shield. Now, with the Epic Treasure Chest within reach, it was time for Renzo to finish the "Grand Old Lady" once and for all.
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