Dominating Football with Perfect Ball Control

Chapter 365: 365. Fighting on Three Fronts, Blooming on Three Fronts!!

Check out advanced Chapters on P@treon: [email protected]/CosmicKaminari

----------

The Champions League quarter-final draw had brought joy to some and misery to others.

On Twitter, Facebook, and across the forums, the most distressed were Barcelona fans.

”How are we in the same half of the bracket as that bloke again?”

”Just remembered the agony of being knocked out in the semi-finals last year.”

”What’s meant to happen always happens.”

”Barring any surprises, we’ll play Atlético Madrid three times in a row.”

”Last month we were laughing at Real Madrid. Now it’s our turn.”

Lance, who had always enjoyed lurking online and watching the chaos unfold, found the Barcelona fans’ misery quietly entertaining. Back in February, it had been Real Madrid who faced Atlético three times in quick succession, and Barcelona fans had been gleefully rubbing it in. Now the boomerang had come back around.

If Atlético Madrid eliminated Manchester City and reached the semi-finals, and Barcelona did the same, the schedule would look like this:

27th April, Champions League semi-final first leg: Atlético Madrid at home vs. Barcelona.

5th May, Champions League semi-final second leg: Barcelona vs. Atlético Madrid.

23rd May, Copa del Rey final: Barcelona vs. Atlético Madrid.

Three consecutive clashes. Spain’s Clásico 2.0. The fans would be absolutely beside themselves.

Real Madrid supporters, at least, were thrilled.

”Finally, those Catalan lot get what’s coming to them!”

”Let them batter each other while we quietly get back on our feet.”

”Real Madrid could actually make the final this time!”

”Come on Manchester City! Come on PSG!”

They had every reason to be cheerful. Their opponents were Wolfsburg, a solid but unspectacular Bundesliga side. How were Wolfsburg supposed to handle Real Madrid? And whichever of Bayern Munich or Bayer Leverkusen emerged from their internal battle, Real Madrid fancied their chances against either.

It was not premature celebration. Real Madrid genuinely had a strong probability of reaching the final. With the league title and Copa del Rey already beyond reach, the Champions League was their only remaining lifeline.

Marca shared the same assessment.

”According to our analysis, the biggest favourite in the upper half of the bracket is Real Madrid. Since Zidane took over, after a turbulent period that included consecutive defeats to Atlético Madrid, Real Madrid’s performances in their last two matches have improved significantly.”

”By moving Modri? higher up the pitch alongside Toni Kroos and deploying Casemiro as a single pivot, Zidane has taken what appears to be a risky decision and turned it into a statement of attacking intent. If they meet their city rivals again, the Galácticos may well deliver an even stronger performance.”

”In the second leg of the recent league meeting, Real Madrid were leading 2-0 and came very close to winning. With tactical improvements, players returning to form, and the squad’s obsession with reclaiming the Champions League title, their chances are rising.”

”Atlético Madrid, by contrast, face the relentless challenge of both Manchester City and Barcelona. If they exhaust themselves or suffer key injuries, they may have little left to give against Real Madrid.”

”What a load of rubbish. When has Marca ever not praised Real Madrid, and when has Real Madrid not ended up losing to us?”

Saúl scoffed, scrolling through the predictions on his phone.

Torres, by contrast, was perfectly composed. He was focused on loading his plate, quietly calculating whether the calories looked about right.

”Marca is always like this. It’s nothing new. We just need to worry about our own game.”

”Exactly. Whoever it is, we go at them.”

Griezmann was in a buoyant mood.

”When did you start using Lance’s lines?”

”Anyway, what are your thoughts on Manchester City?”

”Simple. Lance doesn’t even need to get involved. I can handle it myself,” Griezmann said, with complete confidence.

Saúl gave him a sceptical look.

”Can you though? Forget David Silva for a moment. Just De Bruyne and Agüero alone make Manchester City a serious proposition.”

At the mention of Agüero, ears pricked up across the table.

Agüero had once been Atlético Madrid’s own striker. The partnership he had formed with Diego Forlán had been genuinely frightening. After Torres departed, the club had been fortunate enough to have world-class strikers like Falcao, Forlán, and Agüero pass through, and those who had been there still remembered exactly what Agüero was capable of.

Godín in particular had personal experience. He and Agüero had been teammates, and in training Agüero had dribbled past him more times than he cared to admit.

”Is he really that good?”

Griezmann scratched his head. He had broken through at Real Sociedad, working his way up from Segunda División to La Liga, and by the time he had established himself as a starter, Agüero had already left for Manchester City. Their paths had never crossed directly.

Saúl, Koke and several others had followed Agüero since their youth academy days and knew precisely how dangerous he was. And that was before you even factored in Manchester City’s formidable midfield. Yaya Touré, David Silva, De Bruyne. This was not a side to take lightly.

After Saúl laid it all out, even Griezmann’s confidence wavered slightly.

”Well, if it all goes wrong, we’ve still got Lance, haven’t we? Lance, honestly, how good is De Bruyne?”

”Genuinely? Very good.”

Lance’s expression was serious.

Only someone who had played alongside De Bruyne and studied him closely could truly appreciate what he brought to a game.

Yes, his performances in major tournaments could occasionally frustrate, but whenever De Bruyne threaded one of those curling passes through a defence with that outrageous vision of his, the opposition were left questioning everything they knew about defensive organisation.

A seemingly solid defensive line could be cut apart by a single, understated pass that no one else had even seen.

In short, he was not an opponent anyone wanted to face.

”That said, our squad quality is still very high. There is absolutely no reason to be scared of Manchester City.”

”You sure?”

”Trust me.”

The tension around the table eased. Whenever Lance said ”trust me,” something good tended to follow. If you were picking a teammate who would never let you down, the answer was obvious.

The draw, of course, was just a backdrop. The quarter-finals would not kick off until early April. The Copa del Rey had only the final remaining, pencilled in for late May. March would bring only league fixtures and two international breaks. For the first time in what felt like an age, Atlético Madrid had escaped the relentless rhythm of two matches a week.

”Right. We shift our focus to the league, but that does not mean we switch off. Look at the table!”

Simeone’s expression was as severe as ever. He wanted that to land properly.

”Barcelona are still above us. Does anyone here accept that?”

”No!”

”Then the demand is simple: points. Not one point. Three points. Every single game. Anyone who holds this team back will not be starting. Is that understood?”

The room went very quiet. Nobody wanted to be that person.

La Liga Matchday 28: Valencia vs. Atlético Madrid.

Valencia led 1-0 at half-time.

Simeone used fourteen of the fifteen available minutes to make his feelings known. The centre-backs and midfielders received the sharpest end of it. Giménez had switched off from a corner and gifted Valencia their goal.

”Tell me honestly. Do you want to sit on the bench? Do you want to train with the reserves?”

”No, Se?or!”

Giménez briefly felt as though he had enlisted in the army.

”Second half. I do not want to see any of that again. Now go out there and show me something.”

The smiles on the Valencia fans’ faces did not last long.

”Griezmann drives forward!! He’s through!! Cut-back pass!!”

”Lance equalises!!! A fierce long-range shot from outside the box!”

”1-1!”

”A brilliant pass after beating two men!! It’s Lance again!!”

”Fernando Torres!!”

”They’ve taken the lead!! Two goals in five minutes at the start of the second half! Atlético Madrid are in front!”

”This is Atlético Madrid! This is the machine, and efficiency is everything!”

”Lance, Griezmann, Torres, Saúl... Lance, Griezmann!!! Lance!!!!”

”An incredible performance!!! The shot!!”

”1-3!! Atlético Madrid extend their lead!!”

”Lance with a brace! Gliding through the box with absolute elegance!!”

”Perfect combination play, perfect first touch and control, perfect finish!”

”Competing on three fronts and delivering on all three! Atlético Madrid cannot be stopped!”