God Of football

Chapter 236: New Gen [Luxury Car chapter.]

With the fans, roaring behind his back, Hugo Duro ran towards the bench, sliding in front of Baraja, who came to hug him.

The Valencia bench as well as the players on the pitch joined in on the hugs, pressing Hugo Duro down under their weight.

”Okay, okay boys. Keep it cool” Baraja muttered as the players returned to their half.

”And we are off to a blazing start as Valencia draws first blood in the 14th minute here at the Estadio Cartuja, here in Seville. It’s Valencia 1, Athletic Bilbao, nil”

...…

After the restart, the Athletic Bilbao fans rallied behind their team for fear of them succumbing to the pressures of a cup final and losing themselves before they even lost the match but their fears were for naught.

Athletic Bilbao were wounded but not broken. The goal had stung, but if anything, it ignited a fire within them.

Ernesto Valverde, standing near the touchline, clapped his hands and barked out instructions. ”Move the ball quicker! Find the space!”

The Basque side were known for their resilience, for their ability to fight through adversity, and the next few minutes showed exactly that.

In the 17th minute, Dani García picked up possession just inside Valencia’s half. He looked up, scanning the pitch before zipping a pass to De Marcos, who had already begun his sprint down the right.

The Valencia players adjusted quickly, but Bilbao’s intent was clear—they were stretching the field, trying to pull Valencia’s defensive line out of shape.

De Marcos took a touch before sending in a wicked cross, low and fast, across the six-yard box.

Iñaki Williams was waiting.

The recently turned, Ghanaian international had peeled away from Mark, darting toward the near post where he met the ball with a sharp, instinctive touch.

DEFLECTED!

The shot clipped off Cenk Özkacar’s outstretched leg, sending it looping awkwardly toward goal.

Valencia’s goal-stopper, Giorgio Mamardashvili dived—but he too was beaten. The ball spun toward the net, seemingly in slow motion.

From the stands, the Bilbao fans rose, ready to celebrate—

Only for Mark to appear out of nowhere.

The young center-back, reacting quicker than anyone, raced toward the goal line and launched himself into a desperate clearance.

With his right foot stretched out, he managed to hook the ball away inches before it crossed the line.

”WHAT A CLEARANCE!”

The Valencia fans erupted, their cheers almost as loud as they had been for the goal.

On the pitch, Mark lay on his back for a brief moment, catching his breath, before Javi Guerra helped him up, slapping his back in appreciation.

”You saved us there, hermano,” Javi grinned.

Mark, breathing heavily, simply nodded. ”Stay focused. They’re coming at us hard.”

On the Bilbao bench, Ernesto Valverde ran a hand through his already minimal hair, shaking his head. ”That was in,” he muttered.

After the clearance, Athletic Bilbao sought an opportunity to level the score, with Valencia proving tough but that game didn’t stop them.

Valencia, on the other hand, sensing an opportunity, immediately went on the offensive, pressing with all their might.

Izan, positioned near the center circle, had been waiting.

As soon as Mark’s clearance was made, he exploded forward, calling for the ball.

Javi Guerra, still high up the pitch, intercepted an attempted pass from Dani García.

The challenge was aggressive but clean—or so it seemed.

He turned quickly and, without hesitation, slid the ball into Izan’s path.

”Here come Valencia again! It’s Guerra, into Izan!”

Izan, with a defender on his back, executed a brilliant first-touch flick to Pietro, who took off at full speed down the right wing before laying off the ball back to Izan.

....

There are moments in football that defy reason, that send a charge through the veins of those who witness them.

Moments that make stadiums tremble, that make fans leap to their feet as if some unseen force has pulled them upward.

And in the 22nd minute of the Copa del Rey final, it looked as if Izan would do the same.

After Pietro’s ball found its way to Izan, He didn’t hesitate.

The first touch was immaculate, killing the ball before flicking it forward. One spark and the inferno began.

Óscar De Marcos was the first to approach, eyes locked on Izan’s feet, waiting for his move.

But waiting was a mistake.

With a subtle drop of the shoulder, Izan ghosted past him, knocking the ball forward before exploding into space.

De Marcos reached out and lunged—but by the time his foot arrived, Izan was already gone.

The Valencia fans erupted, their voices rising with each touch of the ball.

But Bilbao had a second line of defense. Dani Vivian, a no-nonsense center-back with a reputation for well-timed tackles, saw the danger and stepped up, angling his body to block Izan’s path.

Izan slowed for a fraction of a second, letting Vivian believe he had him under control. Then, with a delicate touch, he rolled the ball through the defender’s legs.

A gasp swept through the stadium, followed by a roar of delight.

Vivian turned, desperate to recover, but Izan was already accelerating away, his white Valencia kit billowing behind him like a banner of war as the former tried to grab his shirt.

The byline was in sight, but one final obstacle remained.

Yuri Berchiche, the left back, had tracked back, anticipating Izan’s next move. He wasn’t about to be another victim.

Izan, reading the challenge before it came, dragged the ball back with his right foot, causing Berchiche to shift his weight ever so slightly. That was all the invitation Izan needed.

With a devastating combination—a quick elastico followed by a burst of pace that left Berchiche lunging at thin air, like a man grasping at shadows.

The Valencia faithful lost themselves in the spectacle, a rolling thunder of cheers echoing through the stadium.

Izan, now at the byline, slowed, lifted his head. He had broken the lines, shattered the defensive wall. And now, with breathless anticipation, the Cartuja awaited his final move.

The Athletic Bilbao defense was now caught flat-footed.

Izan, scanning his options, saw Duro making a near-post run. Perfect.

With a perfectly weighted pass, he slid the ball into the striker’s path.

Duro controlled, took a step inside, and rifled a shot past Unai Simón’s outstretched hand to make it two for Valencia on the night.

”GOOOOOOOAL VALENCIA. THEY HAVE TWO—NO! WAIT! NO, THEY HAVEN’T ”

The celebrations were cut short as the referee put his hand to his earpiece.

The Bilbao players surrounded him, furiously pointing toward midfield.

Javi Guerra stood near the referee, arms outstretched. ”What? I won the ball!”

Gaya, frustrated, gestured toward the monitor. ”Check it, then!”

The referee walked over to the touchline as the VAR review began.

On the Valencia bench, Baraja shook his head, muttering under his breath. ”This is going to be close.”

Moreno crossed his arms. ”It looked clean to me, but you know how VAR is. Slow-motion makes everything look worse.”

The tension inside the stadium was unbearable.

Fans from both sides held their breath, watching the referee inspect the footage.

After what felt like an eternity, the referee turned back to the pitch—he waved his hands.

NO GOAL.

The Valencia fans exploded with anger.

”¡Ladrón! ¡Eso no es falta!” (Thief! That’s not a foul!)

The players swarmed the official.

Izan was one of the first to protest. ”Come on! He got the ball first!”

Javi Guerra simply stood there, hands on his hips, a look of disbelief on his face.

On the Bilbao bench, Valverde smirked, shaking his head. ”We got away with one there.”

The Bilbao fans cheered loudly, celebrating the reversal as if they had just scored themselves.

”Well, well, well! Valencia thought they had doubled their lead, but VAR says otherwise!”

”It’s a tough one, George. Javi Guerra’s tackle looked fine in real-time, but VAR always makes things complicated. A debatable call, but Bilbao won’t complain.”

.....

As the match restarted, the commentators took a moment to discuss Valencia’s incredible academy talent on display tonight.

”It’s no secret that Valencia’s youth system has been one of the best in Spain for years,” Mikel began.

”They’ve produced top players like Ferran Torres, Carlos Soler, and, of course, club captain José Luis Gayà.”

”And now, we’re seeing the next wave—Mark, Pietro, and the one everyone is talking about: Izan.”

”Let’s not forget Mark’s goal-line clearance earlier. That was pure instinct, and he’s only 18. Pietro? His movement, his composure in tight spaces—he’s been immense.”

”But, Mikel, as good as they are, you have to admit, Izan is overshadowing everyone.”

Mikel laughed. ”And can you blame him? A 16-year-old leading Valencia in a Copa del Rey final, already scoring over 25 goals this season—it’s insane.”

”It’s the way he plays, George. The confidence, the maturity, the vision. He’s commanding his teammates like a veteran. A once-in-a-generation talent.”

”And tonight, he’s already making his mark. Let’s see if he can lead Valencia to glory.”

The game was still wide open, and if the first twenty minutes were any indication—this final was far from over.

A/n: Luxury Car chapter. Brought to you by Sam Kupers.