Mateo's footsteps echoed down the tunnel as he approached the first team's locker room.
His palms were sweaty.His heart raced.
"You're ready," he told himself again."You belong here."
The heavy door swung open —and suddenly he stood before the giants of Bayern Munich.
Inside the bright, polished locker room, some players were already changing into training gear.
Some joking, laughing.
Some focused, already tying their boots.
Manuel Neuer glanced up first, giving him a welcoming nod.Then Joshua Kimmich, standing by the lockers, smiled and waved him over.
"Hey, the new kid's here," someone said, and a few heads turned.
Mateo recognized them all instantly:
Leroy Sané adjusting his jersey.
Jamal Musiala doing keepie-uppies casually with a rolled-up sock.
Upamecano and De Ligt chatting near the showers.
World-class players.
Players he had only admired from the stands or television screens.
And now —he was one of them.
Kimmich was the first to extend a hand.
"Welcome to the big leagues, Mateo," he said, grinning.
Mateo shook it firmly, managing a nervous smile.
"Thank you... it's an honor."
Musiala jogged over, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.
"You'll get used to it fast.Don't worry — you've already made some noise."
The others chuckled and nodded.
They made space for him near the lockers.His new locker had already been prepared:
GONZÁLEZ — #30
The sight of it made Mateo's chest tighten.
He sat down, quietly pulling on his Bayern training jersey, socks, and cleats,trying to soak in every second without looking like a wide-eyed kid.
Minutes later, the squad jogged toward the training fields under the clear blue sky.
The first-team pitch gleamed under the sun —perfectly cut grass, silent anticipation.
As the players warmed up, Mateo felt the difference immediately.
The speed.The power.The precision.
Everything was sharper.More ruthless.
The drills were brutal.
Pass and move.Press under pressure.High-tempo possession games.
In the U17s, mistakes were tolerated.
Here?
Every mistake was punished.
Lose your man — someone shouted.Miss a simple pass — someone glared.Slow down for a second — and you were left behind.
But Mateo didn't break.
He adapted.He learned.
Every second, he pushed harder, focused more —driven by everything he had trained for.
Driven by everything he dreamed of.
Farther off, standing at the side of the field, Vincent Kompany watched with sharp eyes alongside his assistant coaches: René Marić and Anthony Barry.
As the players moved through an intense small-sided game, René leaned closer and spoke quietly:
"So why put him at right wing?" he asked."In the U17s, he mostly played as an attacking midfielder… sometimes as a striker."
Barry nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. His numbers were better centrally."
Kompany crossed his arms, still watching Mateo work.
"I know," he said calmly.
"Truth is — Mateo could thrive anywhere across the front line.If we wanted, he could even evolve into a world-class center forward."
The assistants exchanged glances.
"Then why not groom him for the 9?" René asked.
Kompany's gaze hardened slightly — but not out of anger. Out of realism.
"Because," he said,"for better or worse, we already have Harry Kane."
One of the best strikers in the world.An icon.And a guaranteed starter.
Kompany continued:
"It would be a waste —having Mateo sit on the bench, waiting for minutes that might never come.Or worse — forcing him into sporadic appearances that stunt his growth."
He pointed subtly toward the right flank, where Mateo was working a quick combination with Sané.
"At right wing, he can still shine."
"He has the dribbling, the pace, the intelligence.He'll adapt fast.He'll get minutes, responsibility, challenges."
"And once he's seasoned…"Kompany smiled faintly.
"Then we'll see what destiny has in store."
The assistants nodded slowly, understanding the logic.
It wasn't about limiting Mateo.
It was about maximizing his growth.
Protecting his future.
Back on the field, Mateo made a darting run down the wing, cutting inside and curling a shot past the second keeper.
The ball clipped the post —but the entire first-team staff noticed the movement, the timing, the raw potential.
Neuer clapped his gloves together.
"Nice run, kid!"
Mateo grinned, breathing hard but feeling alive.
More alive than he had ever felt before.
This was his new world now.
And he was just getting started.