Dominating Football with Perfect Ball Control

Chapter 382: 382. Neymar: Messi, you’re nervous, aren’t you?

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The Big Battle

Bang! Bang! Bang!

La Masia training ground. A series of thuds echoed across the field.

Having just finished his spa treatment, Neymar felt refreshed. He was packing his bag to head home and maybe spend the evening with his girlfriend, Bruna Marquezine. But hearing the sounds from the training field, he couldn’t help wandering over.

”Leo? What are you doing?”

”You haven’t left yet?”

”I should be asking you that. It’s so late.”

”I’d just be bored at home. Practicing a bit.”

”Alright then.”

This was normal. The three strongest players in the world — Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Lance — all shared one trait: they were training fanatics.

Cristiano Ronaldo loved the gym, transforming from a skinny kid into a muscle-bound machine in just two or three years. Lance was also frequently caught by the media training late at night, making him one of the most well-known hardworking figures in world football. Messi was the same.

Everyone thought Messi relied purely on talent. His short stature, low center of gravity, and elite step frequency made dribbling past defenders look as easy as breathing. In reality, he put in enormous work on strength and shooting. Why was it that even when surrounded by strong defenders, through all the collisions and shoving and pulling, it was still so hard to stop him? Was he really frail?

No. Messi was quite strong, and Neymar knew this well. His shooting technique had become increasingly refined too, and he kept scoring free kicks — no secret, just extra training. There had been reports that Messi once trained until 4 AM. He, too, had seen Barcelona at 4 AM.

Logically speaking, Messi usually wouldn’t push himself this hard in the days before a big match, preferring to fine-tune his form instead. Today was truly unusual.

”Nervous? After all, you’re playing against that man.”

Within the Barcelona squad, there was a name that, like Voldemort, was never to be mentioned — especially not in front of Messi.

”You...”

Messi kicked the ball into the net and stopped. He turned and looked helplessly at Neymar. This guy had clearly come over just to mess with him. As the senior leader of the team, Messi could roast Piqué or Alves freely. But Neymar was a legitimate teammate with real ability, so he couldn’t just lash out.

”I’m not nervous.”

Messi turned back and lined up the next ball. But before he could shoot, Neymar spoke again.

”You say you’re not nervous, but your form is already breaking down.”

”Puta!! Damn it!”

Messi’s shooting motion came to an abrupt halt and he nearly twisted himself. Seeing Messi’s awkward expression, Neymar knew exactly when to leave and quickly slipped away.

”See you tomorrow!”

Since Luis Enrique wasn’t a strict disciplinarian, his management style was relatively relaxed. There were no rules about staying at a team hotel before matches — Barcelona players could go home to sleep and gather at the club the next morning to head to Camp Nou together.

Just as Neymar was about to disappear, Messi called him back.

”Hey! Neymar.”

”What’s up?”

”Tomorrow, give it everything.”

Messi’s eyes were sharp. He rarely said much, but this time he sounded dead serious. It was clear this league match meant more to him than even a Clásico or a Copa del Rey final. Even if he could accept losing to Cristiano Ronaldo, he could not accept losing again to that man.

Neymar flashed his usual relaxed smile and gave Messi a thumbs up.

”Tomorrow I’ll play with the most serious attitude of my career. So stop being nervous.”

”I’m not nervous!”

Messi was almost triggered. But watching Neymar’s back as he walked away, Messi quickly felt much more settled. Even if that man was truly strong, he wasn’t weak either — not with the best Neymar, the best Suárez, and the best teammates behind him.

”This time, definitely!”

”Definitely!!”

Bang! Another shot, gathering everything he had, curled with an exaggerated arc into the top corner.

”Welcome to Camp Nou!”

It was here.

The big battle that had been building for at least half a month had finally arrived. Commentator Jian Jun was buzzing with excitement.

He still couldn’t believe the head of the sports section had handed him the commentary rights for a match this big. Having previously focused on the Premier League, with occasional stints covering the Bundesliga and tennis, Jian Jun had finally made it to La Liga — and it started with a battle like this.

The Spanish National Derby 2.0!

Barcelona vs. Atlético Madrid

The buzz back home was no less than in Spain. In fact, given the sheer size of the domestic audience, the number of expected live stream viewers locally was set to exceed the total number of fans watching across all of Spain.

”I’m afraid even a World Cup final would struggle to match this, right?”

”That’s probably still a stretch.”

Instructor Zhang chuckled. Thanks to Lance, he had also found his way into La Liga commentary.

”A World Cup final would definitely pull bigger numbers. After all, plenty of people only tune in once every four years.”

”Fair point.”

Jian Jun nodded. The fan base looked enormous, with football memes everywhere online. But against a population of over a billion, football was ultimately still a niche sport. Many people who had never been exposed to the game — and a large portion of female viewers — couldn’t even tell you Barcelona’s abbreviation, let alone name a player outside of Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo.

Today, though, might draw quite a few non-fans in. After all, there was a familiar face in the lineup: Lance. His domestic traffic had long since surpassed the peaks of Liu Xiang and Yao Ming back in their day, sitting at the very top of the sports world. Tens of millions of Weibo followers, and a man who constantly dominated the trending searches.

After a long studio conversation with Instructor Zhang — breaking down lineups, tactical setups, and pre-match news — the director finally cut to the live feed. Both Jian Jun and Instructor Zhang sat up straight.

It was 00:25 AM Beijing time. La Liga had specially moved the kickoff earlier so it wouldn’t start at a completely unreasonable hour for overseas fans.

The barrage comments were already flying:

”Ahhhh! God Lance! Hubby!”

”My hubby! Don’t you dare snatch him!”

”Everyone’s hubby.”

”Even if God Lance went into entertainment he’d be the most dominant one there.”

”Don’t get sidetracked, just play football.”

”Can we win today?”

”F*** Messi!”

”Go Messi!”

”King of Coal Balls, get out of here!”

In 2016, large-scale hate campaigns hadn’t really taken off yet. Messi’s reputation was still reasonably intact at this point, with most of the arguing coming from Cristiano Ronaldo fans. Nobody could have predicted what kind of incident would later leave him with a face full of mud — whether he was personally innocent no longer mattered. He eventually became a walking contradiction: both ”that guy” and ”the GOAT” at the same time.

In this timeline, of course, it probably wouldn’t be quite so easy to become the GOAT.

Lance held the hand of a young mascot and led Atlético Madrid’s starting eleven out of the Camp Nou tunnel. The boos that greeted him were overwhelming, all directed his way. Lance remained calm, waving to the away section with an easy smile.

Boos? Didn’t Barcelona fans know by now? The louder the boos, the stronger Lance became.

”Let’s look at the starting lineups for both sides.

Barcelona: Ter Stegen in goal. Defenders: Alves, Piqué, Mascherano, Alba. Midfielders: Busquets, Rakiti?, Iniesta. Forwards: Messi, Suárez, Neymar.

Atlético Madrid: Oblak in goal. Defenders: Juanfran, Giménez, Godín, Filipe Luís. Midfielders: Koke, Gabi, Saúl. Forwards: Lance, Torres, Griezmann.

Atlético Madrid have gradually settled into a 4-3-3. Saúl has dropped back to form a three-man midfield alongside the two holding midfielders. Lance’s role is more flexible, forming a dual attacking setup with Griezmann — it avoids the old flaw of being too narrow on the left and makes them far more unpredictable.

The two sides are separated by just one point in the La Liga table. With three rounds left, today’s match might as well be the La Liga final. This is the decisive battle.”

Jian Jun’s voice crackled with excitement, and the fans in front of their screens felt it too. Barcelona had reportedly been drilling defensive tactics all week. Could they truly shut Lance down? Could Atlético Madrid pull it off?

There was no time left to wonder. The referee blew his whistle, and the 2015-16 La Liga title decider was officially underway.