My First Touch is Ten Meters Off, But I Score Every Time

At eighteen, he finally steps onto the legendary pitch in pristine white—only to realize he's completely out of his depth. His ball control is a disaster, his technique nonexistent. Yet somehow, impossibly, the ball keeps finding the back of the net. Is it divine intervention? Dumb luck? Or something far more mysterious? One thing's certain: in a sport built on skill and precision, he's rewriting every rule in the book.