Dominating Football with Perfect Ball Control

Chapter 393: 393. Even Cristiano Ronaldo is feeling a bit desperate

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3–1.

When the whistle blew at the 95th minute, the score was final.

Messi glanced up at the scoreboard, turned, and walked straight toward the tunnel without a word.

The entire Atlético Madrid squad piled together, celebrating a hard-fought victory.

”What would you say was the key to winning at home today?”

”The key? That’s Lance, without question. He really is a god!” Saúl was barely containing himself in front of the camera.

Griezmann was caught by a reporter on his way past.

”Why do you think you were able to beat Barcelona today and take control of the semi-final?”

”That goes without saying. It’s all down to our teammate. As long as Lance is on the field, we have no reason to lose.” Griezmann smiled broadly.

At the start of the season, Griezmann had still harbored thoughts of competing with Lance for the central role at Atlético Madrid. Nobody was competing with Lance for anything now. It was far better to just follow his lead.

”How do you feel about the result today?”

”I think Barcelona are a respectable opponent. They dominated possession throughout and created a lot of pressure. The MSN trio made life extremely difficult for my teammates defensively, and I even had to drop back and track runners myself.”

Torres’s interview was measured and composed.

”Honestly, for a moment I thought we were going to concede again. Barcelona looked like they were close to equalizing, maybe even taking the lead. But at the critical moment, Lance stepped up. Just like he did at Bayer Leverkusen over the previous two seasons, he is always the one you can trust completely when it matters most.”

Torres smiled from the heart.

If Lance stays at Atlético Madrid, I believe that after I retire, this club will become a world-class powerhouse in a league of its own.

At the post-match press conference, both managers spoke at length about Lance.

Luis Enrique sat at the podium with a wry smile.

”Honestly, the boys worked incredibly hard today. They gave everything. But the opponent’s number 10 created three perfect chances, and that was the difference. It is hard to explain how he managed those assists, and hard to explain how he dismantled the entire defensive line on his own. He has the greatest capacity for learning and improvement I have ever seen in a player.”

Luis Enrique stopped himself there, swallowing the rest of the sentence.

Because what came next was that even Messi could not match Lance’s rate of development. If Messi was a once-in-a-century talent, Lance was something else entirely. A different category.

Assuming Bartomeu doesn’t sack me this season, Luis Enrique didn’t want to manage Barcelona anymore anyway. Whoever fancied dealing with Lance was welcome to it. If you can’t beat him, you can at least avoid him. Unless Barcelona could sign him.

On the other side of the room, Simeone was beaming.

Barcelona, who had once ruled La Liga, had been pinned down and beaten convincingly at the Wanda Metropolitano.

”Lance’s performance today was extraordinary. His long passing and movement off the ball have improved at a rate that far exceeds where he was even half a season ago. As a manager, I am incredibly fortunate to have a player like him. Our tactical options keep growing, and that makes us harder and harder to prepare for. He is absolutely phenomenal.”

Facing a full-strength Barcelona, Lance had dominated with two goals and one assist.

Who else?

Not long ago, Simeone would never have dared dream of a title challenge. Reaching the Champions League semi-finals was already beyond the original target. Now, plans had changed. Time to prepare for the championship.

...

”Speaking of which, what do you think?”

”Think about what?”

”The match last night.”

”...”

”Keep your voice down. Don’t bring it up. Look at his face.”

Madrid. Castilla training ground canteen.

The following morning, the Real Madrid squad arrived at the base in their usual convoy of luxury cars. After breakfast, they were preparing to begin another day of training.

Modri?, Toni Kroos, Gareth Bale and a few others had been trying to talk about the previous night’s game, but Marcelo had cut them off with a look and a subtle nod toward the figure not far away.

Cristiano Ronaldo.

He was wearing AirPods, seemingly lost in music. He probably couldn’t hear them. Probably. But Marcelo wasn’t willing to risk it. He had a rule: never mention two names in front of Cristiano Ronaldo. Messi. And Lance.

Marcelo had watched the whole match.

Two words summed up how he felt: deeply unsettled.

In the first leg against Bayern Munich, Real Madrid had won 1–0 at home. It had felt like a solid platform even if the performance wasn’t convincing. After the game, the mood in the camp was upbeat. Marcelo had posted a photo on Instagram that had racked up thousands of likes, and he’d been pleased with himself.

That feeling was gone now.

Regular fans might have watched the Atlético-Barcelona match simply for the spectacle. But anyone who understood football could see the tactical complexity underneath. Barcelona had been operating at a genuinely high level, something close to their dominant 2009–2011 period. They were passing and pressing with a fluency that left opponents unable to breathe, let alone touch the ball.

If it were the current Real Madrid side facing Barcelona, they’d need everything they had to come out on top.

But Atlético Madrid had made it look manageable. A clean, decisive 3–1 victory. They had reduced Barcelona to desperation and Messi to brilliance that still wasn’t enough.

Marcelo felt sick thinking about it. He could only imagine how Cristiano Ronaldo was processing it.

”But we’ll have to face them eventually.”

Modri? spread his hands. As the heartbeat of Real Madrid’s midfield, he stayed calm. He still believed in this squad. The BBC up front was formidable. The midfield trio was solid. The defensive unit had discipline and spirit to spare.

Real Madrid had no reason to fear anyone.

”If it were us, how would we stop Lance’s three attacks?”

Marcelo’s question left Modri?, Kroos and Bale with nothing to say.

Barcelona couldn’t stop him. What made Real Madrid any different? And if it came to a final between the two sides, who was going to outscore Lance and Griezmann and Torres in an open game?

Bale was tempted to speak up. He was at the peak of his powers right now. His pace could tear apart any defensive line in the world.

But after what he’d seen the night before, he held his tongue.

What none of them knew was that the AirPods in Cristiano Ronaldo’s ears had been playing nothing for some time. He had heard every word.

He just didn’t know what to say anymore. Messi had been broken by this. What was he supposed to do with that?

”Damn it.” Cristiano Ronaldo cursed quietly to himself.

He wasn’t sure who he was cursing. That kid, or himself.

...

The shockwaves from El Clásico 2.0 were still reverberating, which meant the 3–1 Atlético-Barcelona result felt almost routine by comparison. Coverage in the media was relatively measured. There were no particularly fresh angles. Everyone was focused on the second leg, waiting to see if Barcelona could overturn a two-goal deficit at the Camp Nou.

Former Barcelona midfielder and Portuguese legend Deco posted on Twitter:

”I’m afraid the second leg will be Barcelona’s toughest match of the season. To have any chance, they’ll need something similar to what happened in last year’s semi-finals.”

Deco was alluding to the previous year’s Camp Nou drama, where Barcelona had been openly favoured by the referee and still couldn’t find a way past the Bayer Leverkusen side led by Lance.

If the officials don’t intervene this time around, Barcelona will be in serious trouble.