Manuel Pellegrini felt his luck was absolutely rotten.
Before this match, he had never even heard the name Shane Carter.
And now?
That complete unknown had just delivered three assists, leaving Málaga down three goals in their own stadium.
The first two goals on the counter-attack were bad enough.
But that third goal, generated against a set defense, where Carter simply carved open Málaga's backline with pure technique and vision?
Who was he supposed to complain to about that?
Pellegrini shook his head and sank heavily back into his seat in the dugout.
He was not a man prone to fantasy.
Down three goals.
It was essentially impossible for Málaga to mount a comeback now. There simply wasn't enough time left on the clock.
Over in the adjacent technical area, Diego Simeone was passionately embracing his coaching staff.
To be completely honest, even Simeone had not expected Shane to deliver a performance of this magnitude on his debut.
Three assists.
Two from blistering counter-attacks, and one meticulously orchestrated during a positional phase.
This performance emphatically proved Shane's immense value to the midfield.
Sure, his overall match experience was still lacking, and he relied slightly too much on his raw physicality while defending, but who cared?
What he had already accomplished today was more than enough.
...
The television broadcast continuously replayed the slow-motion angles of Shane physically bulldozing Cazorla, immediately followed by the delicate scooped pass over the defense.
Seeing these two actions juxtaposed back-to-back left the audience mesmerized.
The sheer strength required to effortlessly cast Cazorla aside gave the distinct impression of a muscle-bound midfield butcher.
But the immediate follow-up—that delicate, perfectly weighted, artistic chip into the danger zone—felt like it belonged in a museum.
These two violently contradictory traits existing simultaneously within one player left a profound, indelible impression on everyone watching the American teenager's La Liga debut.
"Without a shadow of a doubt, Carter has delivered an extraordinary La Liga debut. It is highly predictable that we will be seeing a lot of him on Spanish pitches in the future! Just look at these three assists. I dare say... this kid has the ceiling of a midfield grandmaster!"
José María García could not help but marvel from the booth.
The camera remained tightly focused on Shane, who was currently being mobbed by his Atlético teammates.
Falcao had his arm thrown heavily around Shane's shoulders, grinning wildly as if terrified the kid might suddenly disappear.
So far this season, Falcao had scored fourteen league goals. With today's brace, he was up to sixteen.
While he was still quite far behind Lionel Messi's absurd tally of twenty-four goals after nineteen rounds, he was definitely closing the gap on Cristiano Ronaldo, who currently sat on twenty.
Falcao didn't know if he could catch Messi—it was highly unlikely anyone could—but challenging Ronaldo was a real possibility.
Even if he only finished second in the Golden Boot race, achieving that in a league dominated by two alien superstars was a massive accomplishment.
And putting the prestige aside for a moment...
Every goal triggered a ten-thousand-euro performance bonus!
Shane had just handed him two absolute tap-ins. That was twenty thousand euros directly into his bank account.
I need to keep this kid happy, Falcao thought to himself. He is my golden goose.
"If we hold onto this win, we get tomorrow off. Come over to my place for a barbecue, kid!" Falcao said cheerfully.
Falcao was not much of a nightclub guy, but hosting his teammates for food and drinks was a regular occurrence.
"I will get the rest of the guys to come over too."
"Sounds perfect," Shane replied with a grin.
He certainly wasn't going to turn down an opportunity to build chemistry with his teammates. He was a central midfielder; he couldn't afford to be a lone wolf.
...
At this exact moment, both in the United States and in Spain, the name Shane Carter was detonating across the internet.
On American social media, the trending topics were surging:
#ShaneCarterHatTrickAssists
#AmericanTeenagerLaLigaDebut
These tags rapidly climbed the trending charts, drawing even more eyes to the sport.
"A hat-trick of assists?!"
"Unreal!"
"Carter is the truth!"
"Holy shit! Let's go!"
"Absolutely insane!"
"Call him up to the senior national team immediately!"
"Who said the US development system is completely broken?!"
In an instant, the flood of comments pushed Shane's profile into the stratosphere.
He became a household name among the American soccer fandom virtually overnight.
Simultaneously, across Spanish social media platforms, his reputation was growing just as rapidly.
Málaga versus Atlético Madrid was, after all, a marquee fixture.
The news that an unknown American teenager had just single-handedly orchestrated three goals for Atlético instantly became the hottest topic among Spanish football fans.
And at Real Madrid's Ciudad Real Madrid training complex, specifically on the U19 training pitches, the news hit like an earthquake.
"Have you seen the news? The American kid just got three assists in La Liga!"
"Man, I honestly thought he was just a defensive anchor when he was here."
"I am so jealous. He actually got a start in the Primera."
The U19 players who had trained alongside Shane for a week spoke with undeniable envy.
But they also understood exactly what starting—and dominating—in La Liga meant.
It meant that Shane's career trajectory and their own had just violently violently diverged.
Several players discreetly glanced toward the wealthy academy prospect who had instigated the brawl that led to Shane's departure.
The president's grandson, who had looked down on the American with such venom, was now destined to become nothing more than an embarrassing footnote in the origin story of a rising La Liga star.
The grandson knew it too. His face was thunderous, his expression dark and bitter. The foreigner he had despised was now operating on a level he could not even dream of reaching.
At nearly twenty years old, he was on the verge of aging out of the U19s. The only reason he was still at Real Madrid was his family's influence.
Once he officially graduated from the academy, who would actually want to sign him?
In competitive sports, the only currency that truly mattered was raw talent.
...
Simeone had no intention of letting Shane play the full ninety minutes.
It was his professional debut, after all.
To protect the teenager from physical burnout and potential injury, Simeone prepared his first substitution.
In the sixty-eighth minute, Shane's number went up on the board.
He was to be replaced by Diego, the veteran Brazilian playmaker currently on loan from Wolfsburg.
Although Shane still felt eager to play, he accepted the manager's decision without complaint.
He felt his stamina was still excellent, and his rhythm in the match was perfect.
If he stayed on the pitch, he genuinely believed he could create more goals.
A hat-trick of assists was fantastic, but what about four?
Or better yet, scoring one himself?
Carrying those minor regrets, Shane jogged toward the touchline.
As he walked off, the Málaga fans inside La Rosaleda showered him with deafening, piercing boos.
The hostility was significantly louder and sharper than the boos they had directed at Falcao earlier in the match.
A highly satisfied smirk spread across Shane's face.
That is exactly what I wanted to hear.
The louder the opposing fans booed, the greater the validation of his dominance.
After high-fiving Diego, Simeone stepped up and threw an arm around Shane's shoulder.
"Magnificent work today, kid! But right now, you need to rest. We are going to need this exact same energy for the next match! Conserve your legs. Keep that fire burning," Simeone explained as he guided Shane toward the bench.
"Thank you, boss. But you really don't need to worry about my legs. I feel like I could run a marathon right now," Shane replied with a laugh.
His physical conditioning was indeed exceptional.
Even though he was not yet eighteen and his body had not fully matured, his system-assigned Stamina rating was already an impressive 88.
That level of endurance placed him in the upper echelon of La Liga midfielders.
Once he finished his physical development, added a bit more height, and his musculature fully matured, his engine would become even more terrifying.
Typically, a footballer's physical prime occurred between the ages of 23 and 26.
Combined with accumulated tactical experience, a player's overall career peak usually arrived between 26 and 29.
At seventeen, Shane was still years away from his true ceiling.
"Hahaha!"
Simeone burst into laughter, clapping him on the back.
"Go celebrate with the boys."
Shane walked over to the dugout.
The entire bench was already on its feet.
Mario Suárez reached out first. "Come here, hero! Give me five for those three assists!"
Shane laughed, moving down the line, exchanging high-fives and hugs with the substitutes and coaching staff before finally taking his seat.
The broadcast camera immediately locked onto him again.
"Shane Carter will not play the full ninety minutes today, but his performance is undeniable. We can fully expect him to retain his starting spot for the next fixture..." the ESPN commentator noted, checking his notes.
"And their next match will be a tough test. Atlético returns home to the Vicente Calderón to host the Yellow Submarine, Villarreal..."
For the remainder of the match, the broadcast director frequently cut back to Shane resting on the bench.
This was partially because, with a comfortable 3-0 lead, Atlético had completely shut up shop, suffocating the game.
The match had become incredibly dull.
Following Shane's departure, Simeone made further tactical substitutions, bringing off attackers in favor of defensive reinforcements to secure the clean sheet.
With a three-goal cushion, Simeone had every right to kill the game.
Ultimately, however, the home side managed to scrape together a consolation goal. In the ninety-first minute, Málaga found the back of the net, saving a sliver of pride.
But the final whistle confirmed a 1-3 defeat for the heavily invested home side.
Simeone let out a long sigh of relief as the whistle blew.
He had only just taken over the squad.
He hadn't even had the time to fully implement his complex tactical philosophies yet.
Because of this, Atlético's current system was extremely rudimentary: defend solidly, then counter aggressively.
In this simplified system, Shane's individual brilliance was the ultimate difference-maker.
If Atlético wanted to surge up the table and secure a top-four finish in the second half of the season, Shane's continued form would be absolutely critical.
...
Before Shane even stood up from the bench, the system chimed in his mind.
[Ding! Match complete. Calculating results...]
[Match intensity: High. Match rating: Excellent!]
[Ding! Congratulations. You have obtained: Random Gold Chest. Open now?]
As Shane stood up to join his teammates, he muttered internally.
Open it.
[Ding! Congratulations. You have obtained: Gold-Tier Injury Prevention Buff!]
...
Injury Prevention Buff: Gold-Tier
Effect 1: Passively enhances physical flexibility and tissue resilience, permanently reducing the baseline probability of sustaining injuries.
Effect 2: When subjected to a severe, potentially career-threatening foul, triggers the "Protection Protocol," granting a 50% probability to completely negate the resulting injury.
...
Shane's eyes lit up with genuine joy.
As a professional athlete, he knew the truth better than anyone.
Injuries were the absolute greatest enemy of any sports career.
Countless generational talents had seen their limitless potential completely destroyed by shattered knees and torn ligaments.
And for a player of Shane's archetype—a ball-dominant midfield orchestrator—the danger was exponential.
He was guaranteed to be the most fouled player on the pitch, constantly subjected to late tackles and malicious challenges from desperate defenders.
Acquiring a passive buff that actively prevented injuries was arguably the most valuable reward he could have received.
Just then, a cameraman marched directly up to Shane, hoisting a massive lens inches from his face.
Receiving this specific camera treatment immediately after the final whistle meant only one thing: he had been officially selected as the Man of the Match.
Shane flashed a bright smile directly into the lens.
With the camera tracking his every move, he walked onto the pitch to celebrate the victory with his teammates.
As the starting eleven walked off, they all swarmed him, aggressively ruffling his hair and shouting congratulations for his masterful debut.
Atlético had scored three goals today. He had assisted all three.
It was the definition of a flawless performance.
Barring a disaster, his name would be the first one on the team sheet next week.
And based on the sheer authority he had displayed today, cementing himself as the absolute, undisputed core of the Atlético midfield would be a mere formality.
"Magnificent work today, kid!"
Gabi approached with his arms spread wide and pulled Shane into a crushing embrace.
Shane, who had been bracing himself to protect his hair, was completely caught off guard by the sheer vice-like grip of the captain's arms. His eyes briefly bulged as the air was forced from his lungs.
"A perfect debut, Shane! Congratulations."
Thankfully, Gabi let go quickly.
Otherwise, tomorrow's headline would have read: "Atlético Teenager Delivers Three Assists, Then Suffocates in Captain's Arms."
Cough, cough...
Shane gasped for air, rubbing his ribs.
Damn it... does the injury prevention buff protect against friendly fire?
Koke, standing nearby, patted Shane sympathetically on the shoulder.
When Gabi turned toward Koke with open arms, the young Spaniard immediately jumped backward.
"Great game, Cap! I am heading straight to the showers! Bye!"
Gabi turned back toward Shane, looking for another hug.
"Yeah, me too, Cap. Showers are calling!" Shane said, quickly backing away.
That wasn't Gabi. That was a human hydraulic press.
"Hold on a second... you are the Man of the Match!" Gabi laughed, pointing toward the tunnel. "Look over there. The press pack is waiting for you."
Gabi gestured toward the mixed zone.
Shane suddenly remembered.
He had to do the post-match press conference.
In the mixed zone, a swarm of journalists was already waiting impatiently.
The moment Shane stepped into the area, the reporters surged forward like a tidal wave.
A dense forest of microphones, recorders, and smartphones was thrust aggressively into his face.
"Shane! Shane! Was this truly your first professional match?"
"Shane! Are the rumors true that you were recently released by the Real Madrid academy?"
"How does it feel to deliver a hat-trick of assists on your debut?"
A chaotic barrage of questions rained down on him simultaneously, making his head spin.
This was his first time facing a media scrum of this magnitude.
"Okay... okay... calm down. One at a time. I can't hear anything if you all yell at once," Shane said, raising his hands defensively.
"Uh... you first, miss."
Shane pointed toward a particularly well-endowed female reporter near the front.