Mateo stands on the cracked sidewalk. His eyes are locked on the red and black jersey in the shop window. The street drums with the sound of a soccer ball and children shouting nearby.
He presses his small hand against the glass. "One day," he whispers. The wind catches the edge of the jersey, and for a moment it looks like it's waving at him.
On his birthday, his abuela hands him a folded package. He tears the paper to reveal a real Cerro Porteño jersey, small but perfect. "For me?" he asks.
He slides the jersey on over his clothes and spins in front of the cracked mirror. The fabric rustles with every move. "You'll wear it today," his abuela says.
During the tournament warm-up, Mateo kicks the ball nervously and misses completely. The ball rolls into the street, and a neighborhood dog chases after it, barking happily. He laughs at his own miss.
Mateo runs after the dog, laughing as they dart between parked cars and past cheering neighbors. The dog slides to a stop right at Mateo's feet and looks up, tail wagging.
Mateo steps onto the field and the whistle blows. He doesn't try to score — he just passes the ball to his friend, who scores a goal. A smile spreads across his face.
The whole team rushes together in a laughing pile, and Mateo finds himself in the middle, the red and black stripes pressed against all of them. The dog barks from the sideline. Mateo grins — they are all part of the team now.