Thousands of miles away from Munich,in a luxurious office in Buenos Aires,two men sat across a polished oak desk, a single object between them:
A fresh copy of Kicker Sportmagazin.
On the cover, bold and undeniable,was the face of a boy the world was starting to notice.
Mateo González Schwarz.
The man behind the desk, sharp-eyed and dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, tapped the magazine lightly.
"I want him," he said with finality."Contact him immediately.We have two friendly matches coming up for preparation.The final squad for the U-20 World Cup must be submitted in two weeks."
The other man, standing stiffly before him, shifted uncomfortably.
He wore a tracksuit — the signature blue-and-white of Argentina's youth national teams.
His name was Martín Cárdenas, the head coach of the Argentina U-20 squad.
"Sir," Cárdenas began carefully, "with all due respect, our team is already built. We've trained together for months.Adding a new player, no matter how talented, could disrupt the chemistry we've established."
The man behind the desk — none other than the President of the Argentine Football Association — narrowed his eyes.
"I don't care."
His voice was cold.Final.
"If we don't act now, Germany will claim him.Mateo has dual nationality.You know how fast the Germans move when they see talent."
Coach Cárdenas clenched his fists behind his back.
It wasn't just about strategy anymore.It was politics.It was power.
And once again, he was being ordered to comply.
He bowed his head slightly, hiding his seething frustration.
"As you wish, President."
"Good," the President said, already reaching for the next file on his desk.
"Make it happen."
Outside the office, Cárdenas stormed down the corridor, his anger boiling.
Before even reaching his car, he pulled out his phone and called a number he knew by heart.
The call connected instantly.
A deep, oily voice answered:
"Martín."
"We have a problem," Cárdenas said bluntly."The President wants Mateo González in the U-20 team."
Silence for a moment.Then a slow, calculated reply:
"That's... problematic."
The voice belonged to Héctor Burgos, a powerful agent who represented almost all of Argentina's current U-20 forwards.
If Mateo joined and performed —one of his clients would lose their starting spot.
Lose their exposure.
Lose their market value.
Héctor's voice sharpened:
"You will do what you were ordered.Bring him in."
"But—" Cárdenas began.
"No excuses."
The agent continued, lower, more dangerous:
"And don't worry about him shining too much.I'll make sure the media focuses elsewhere.We'll control the narrative."
"Make him invisible, misunderstood if necessary."
Cárdenas gritted his teeth.
"I'll do what I can."
"Good," Burgos said, before hanging up without a goodbye.
Coach Cárdenas leaned against his car for a moment, breathing heavily.
He looked down at his phone — at the message he was supposed to send to Mateo's representatives.
Invitation to the national team.
A dream for any boy.
And yet, behind the words of honor and pride,there was a trap slowly being set.
A storm gathering.
One Mateo wouldn't even see coming.