The Tuttosport headquarters in Turin had been converted for the evening. The media room on the second floor held two hundred journalists, cameras mounted on every available surface, the smell of coffee and flashbulb heat thick in the air. The Golden Boy Award was celebrating its tenth anniversary. The voting had been closed for a week.
On the stage, Massimo Sassaroni, the Editor-in-Chief, adjusted his microphone and looked out at the room with the particular expression of a man who already knows the ending of the story he is about to tell.
"My Italian and French colleagues," he said, "I'm afraid I have some disappointing news. Paul Pogba will not be attending tonight. He has sent his representative."
A murmur ran through the Italian press contingent. Someone near the back said something about Cristiano Ronaldo's famous non-appearances at award ceremonies he didn't win. The comparison landed.
Sassaroni let it settle. "The final results will be announced in twenty minutes. But I can tell you this much, this year's selection is the least controversial in the history of this award. We spent six months debating Serie A versus La Liga, and then a boy with three months of professional football to his name made the argument irrelevant."
Behind the curtain, his assistant was watching the door. "Over seventy percent perfect scores," he said quietly. "The French and Italian outlets included."
Sassaroni straightened his jacket. "When the numbers are that clear, you stop arguing about it and start writing the profile piece."
High in the ESPN Sur booth, Santiago and Inés were already on air. The South American feed had broken its own viewership record for a non-matchday broadcast.
"Welcome to Turin for the 2013 Golden Boy Award," Santiago said. "The final shortlist: Paul Pogba of Juventus, Julian Draxler of Schalke, and Lorenzo from FC Barcelona. The Italian press lobbied for Pogba. The German press pushed Draxler. Thirty sports editors across Europe filed their ballots."
Inés pulled up the chart. "Seventy percent of the vote. Lorenzo is the second Barcelona player to win this award - Messi won it in 2005 at eighteen years and five months. Lorenzo is still more than half a year from his eighteenth birthday." She paused. "The age record is gone."
The Argentine feed was running.
[Youngest Golden Boy in history. At seventeen. And the UCL group stage isn't even finished.]
[Messi was eighteen. That's the only comparison that matters and Lorenzo is already ahead of it.]
Down on the red carpet, the arrival of the Barcelona delegation produced a controlled chaos among the photographers. Martino had stayed in Catalonia, there were La Liga positions to protect but the club had sent Mateu Alemany, Patrick Kluivert, Carlos Rexach, and, to the particular astonishment of the press pool, Johan Cruyff.
Cruyff at sixty-six was sharp-eyed and deliberate in the way of someone who has been watching football for fifty years and has stopped being surprised by most of it. He walked with Lorenzo toward the entrance and the photographers swarmed.
Kluivert pulled Lorenzo aside for a moment, grinning. "Eusebio Sacristán rang me on the plane. He's very upset that Martino gets to stand in the technical area while he's still running B-team sessions. He wants it known he was the first to give you the pitch."
"He was," Lorenzo said. "I'll ring him tonight."
"Don't bother. He'll complain anyway." Kluivert clapped him on the shoulder. "Go accept your award."
Cruyff found him just before the stage call. He put a hand on Lorenzo's shoulder.
"I watched the footage from Naples," Cruyff said. "The run. Six players." He was quiet for a moment. "In my time we called a player like that a total footballer. The position was a formality, you played wherever the game needed you. You're starting to do that. Don't let them convince you to stop." He let go of Lorenzo's shoulder. "Go up."
Kluivert caught up with them at the bottom of the stairs, laughing. "Spain are in the same World Cup group as the Netherlands next summer. Johan and I are Dutch. You have to promise to let us score at least one."
Lorenzo looked at Cruyff. Cruyff's expression suggested he had made no such promise on Kluivert's behalf.
The trophy was heavier than Lorenzo expected - a brass structure with a polished sphere at the centre, the light from the room's cameras catching it from every angle. Sassaroni handed it across and leaned in close.
"Youngest ever," Sassaroni said. "That line is in the history books now regardless of what happens next. Well done."
Lorenzo turned to the room and raised it. The cameras erupted.
In the VIP section, Lucia and Cecilia were both on their feet. The paparazzi had been watching them since the red carpet, one familiar face from Barcelona, one unfamiliar but striking and the questions had started immediately. A reporter near the front of the press pool called out.
"Lorenzo - could you introduce your two companions? The Spanish press has been asking all evening."
Lorenzo looked at them, then back at the reporter. He gestured for them to come up.
Lucia went slightly pink as she stepped onto the stage. Cecilia moved with the ease of someone who had grown up attending public events and had long since made her peace with cameras. Lorenzo stepped between them, one hand at each of their waists, and turned to face the photographers.
"They haven't had a photo with the trophy yet," he said. "Now they do."
A wave of laughter and shutter clicks.
Lucia leaned close to his ear. "You could have warned me."
"You would have said no."
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Yes."
Cecilia gave the cameras a composed, easy smile. She said nothing, which in its own way said everything.
As the gala ended, Santiago gave his final thought from the booth.
"The Golden Boy is football's coming-of-age ceremony. Previous winners used it to announce themselves. Lorenzo arrives already announced." He checked his notes. "The Champions League resumes next week. The Copa del Rey quarter-finals are scheduled. The era of the dual kings is stretching to accommodate a third."
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.
For Advance/Early Chapters:
patreon.com/Shadownarch_