The locker room buzzed with pre-game tension, but Uriel Antuna leaned back against the wall, earbuds in, bouncing lightly on his feet to the rhythm of reggaetón. His cleats were already laced, his eyes focused—not nervous, but alive.

Coach’s voice broke through the background noise. “Antuna, you’re starting on the right. I want you to stretch them wide, don’t let their full-backs breathe.”

Uriel grinned, removing one earbud. “They won’t even see me,” he said, slipping it back in.

When the whistle blew and the game began, it didn’t take long for the crowd to feel it—number 15 was electric. One feint, one burst of pace, and defenders were already trailing behind him like shadows. He wasn’t just playing. He was dancing.

And every time he touched the ball, Mexico held its breath.