God Of football

Chapter 246: Five Finals [ Alaves: 2]

The sun had begun to set over Mendizorrotza, casting long shadows across the pitch as Valencia emerged from the tunnel, greeted by the thunderous roar of their home crowd.

The energy in the stadium was electric—this wasn’t just another game; every point mattered now even to Alabes who were also battling to avoid relegation.

*” Welcome to the Mendizorrotza, home of Deportivo Alaves, where the atmosphere is absolutely electric tonight! It’s Matchday 34 in La Liga, and with just five games left, every point is crucial.

Valencia, sitting in fourth place on 66 points, are fighting to secure Champions League football next season, but standing in their way tonight is Deportivo Alavés, a team desperate to climb further away from the relegation zone.

The absence of Izan is a big blow for Valencia, but Rubén Baraja’s men will have to find a way without their star. Can they rise to the occasion, or will Alavés spoil the party?”*

”The players are in the tunnel, the crowd is on their feet, and here they come! Valencia, in their traditional white and black, and Alavés, in their deep blue kits, step onto this historic pitch. ”

As the players stepped onto the pitch, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar as each fan of the two sides tried to outdo the other.

”The noise levels are deafening—Valencia fans know just how much this game means.” the commentator said as the players lined up in front of the crowd.

After they were done with the pleasantries, the players positioned themselves in their respective halves.

”The referee checks his watch… and we are underway at Mestalla! Valencia attacking from left to right, Alavés in their compact shape early on. Let’s see what this crucial fixture has in store for us!”

Valencia immediately took control, asserting their dominance from the start. Their midfield trio of Javi Guerra, Pepelu, and Pietro dictated the tempo, moving the ball with confidence.

Despite Izan’s absence, there was an urgency in their play, as if they wanted to prove they could step up in his stead.

Responding in kind to Valencia’s opening intensity, Alaves defended exceptionally in their box. The match had been one-sided so far but no goal had come.

The fans were growing a bit restless at how the match had panned out in the early stages.

Alaves’ fans thought their team would take advantage of Izan’s absence and the home-ground advantage to strike but they had been defending since the match started.

The away fans also thought their team would have scored after all the attacking chances but they hadn’t been able to penetrate their opponents’ defence.

After some more back and forth, the breakthrough came in the 22nd minute.

Valencia had been knocking on the door, testing Alavés’ defense with quick interchanges and sharp movements.

Javi Guerra, with the ball at his feet, slipped a perfectly weighted pass between the lines to Fran Pérez, who darted down the right flank before delivering a low cross into the box.

Hugo Duro, ever the poacher, timed his run to perfection, evading his marker before sliding in to meet the ball first time.

GOOOOAAALLL!

The away section of the stadium erupted as the ball nestled into the bottom corner.

”HUGO DURO! VALENCIA STRIKE FIRST!” the commentator bellowed. ”A brilliantly worked goal, and what a delivery from Fran Pérez!”

On the sidelines, Rubén Baraja clapped approvingly but quickly gestured for his players to stay focused. They couldn’t afford complacency.

After the restart, Alavés tried to respond, but Valencia’s press was relentless. Every time the visitors attempted to build out from the back, they were swarmed by white shirts.

The away side smothered any attempt at Alavés gaining momentum, forcing them into rushed passes and poor decisions.

15 minutes after the first goal, Valencia’s high press paid off again. Javi Guerra intercepted a sloppy pass and drove forward, causing panic in the Alavés defense.

Looking in space, he slipped a ball through to Diego López, who cut inside, looking for an opening.

Before he could shoot, Diego Lopez was clipped from behind.

The referee pointed to the spot! Penalty for Valencia!

The away fans celebrated the chance to go two goals ahead of Alaves.

André Almeida stepped up, placing the ball on the spot. The Portuguese midfielder exuded calm as he took a deep breath, locked eyes with the keeper, and then sent him the wrong way with a coolly placed shot into the bottom corner.

2-0 VALENCIA!

”ALMEIDA MAKES NO MISTAKE! VALENCIA ARE CRUISING!” the commentator shouted.

The Valencia fans were in full voice. It had been a dream first half for Baraja’s men.

The Alaves players, distraught by their first-half performance headed towards the tunnel as soon as the referee’s whistle sounded.

”We thought Valencia would have a hard time breaking down Alaves’ defense but they have proven their worth here.

Javi Guerra in particular has been unplayable this half with two of his passes resulting in both goals. It is the First half here at the Mendizorrotza and its Valencia 2, Alaves 0

As the players returned to the dressing room, Baraja walked in with a measured look. He was pleased but cautious.

”We’ve done well,” he started, his eyes scanning the room. ”We’ve played with intensity, with control. This is how we should always play.”

The players nodded, still catching their breath.

”But listen,” he continued, his voice firm. ”This game is not over. They will come at us. They have nothing to lose.

We cannot drop our focus. Keep your shape, and keep punishing them when we get the ball.”

His words rang in their ears as they returned to the pitch.

Ruben Baraja jinxed and whatever Luis García Plaza told his Alavés side at halftime was showing from the get-go.

The visitors came out like a team possessed, pressing high and winning second balls. Valencia, perhaps too comfortable, struggled to match their intensity.

Then, in the 51st minute, disaster struck.

Alavés worked the ball wide, and a dangerous cross was whipped into the box. Valencia’s defenders hesitated for a second—just enough time for Luis Rioja to ghost in at the back post and stab the ball home.

”GOAL FOR ALAVÉS! LUIS RIOJA PULLS ONE BACK!”

The Mendizorrotza fell silent for a moment before exploding into cheers. Murmurs arose in the away stand of the stadium as the Los Che’s fans tried to will their players back into the match.

Then, just seven minutes later, it got worse.

A poor clearance from Valencia’s backline fell straight to an Alavés player outside the box. Without hesitation, Jon Guridi unleashed a rocket of a strike that curled past Mamardashvili’s outstretched fingers.

”WHAT A STRIKE! ALAVÉS HAVE DRAWN LEVEL! FROM TWO GOALS DOWN TO 2-2 IN A FLASH! IS THIS THE START OF AN UPSET”

Valencia players stood in shock. Baraja raged on the touchline.

”Wake up!” he shouted, motioning for them to get their heads back into the game.

Stung by the collapse, Valencia finally woke up.

Pietro and Almeida regained control in midfield, trying to dictate the pace while Fran Pérez and Diego López were relentless on the flanks, delivering crosses into the box. But chance after chance went begging.

In the 78th minute, Hugo Duro came inches away from restoring the lead, only for his powerful header to be denied by a fingertip save from Alavés’ goalkeeper.

Valencia kept knocking, but the ball refused to go in.

With just five minutes left, Baraja made a desperate change. He called Cristhian Mosquera and Sosa from the bench.

”Sosa, get in there. Find space. Be ready.”

After the change, it was still the same with no signs of change.

As the clock ticked into the 89th minute the Mendizorrotza was restless. One side prayed that they wouldn’t concede while the other prayed for a goal.

Then—one last push. Soda, taking the ball from the right side of the midfield, combined with Hugo Duro who slipped a pass behind the Alaves backline.

Fran Perez, controlling the ball whipped it back into the path of Sosa who let the ball fly the first time.

The whole stadium went silent for that shot only for it to be saved by the Alaves’ shot-stopper.

The Alaves breathed a sigh of relief but a corner too wasn’t the best of situations and they were quickly proved right after Almeida swung in a vicious delivery.

The ball curled dangerously towards the far post, where Sosa leaped higher than anyone-

BANG.

The ball smacked against his chest. With the ball still suspended in the air, Sosa ran his left leg through the ball as the Alaves players threw their bodies into the way.

The whole stadium watched on as the ball rifled into the net.

GOOOOOAAAAALLL!

”SOSAAAAAAAAA! HE’S WON IT FOR VALENCIA!”

The away section exploded into cheers.

Sosa ripped his shirt off, sprinting towards the corner flag as his teammates chased him, mobbing him in celebration.

”UNBELIEVABLE SCENES! SOSA, THE SUPER SUB, WITH A LAST-GASP WINNER!”

The Valencia players roared in triumph, hugging and piling on top of Sosa. In the dugout, Baraja clenched his fists, letting out a yell of relief

The final whistle blew.

Valencia had survived.

The team huddled together, exhausted but elated. They had been tested, they had nearly crumbled, but they had found a way.

As the fans sang their hearts out, Sosa walked over to the stands, raising his arms. Mestalla answered back with deafening cheers.

”This is a massive win for Valencia,” one of the pundits said post-match. ”They were made to suffer, but they showed character. And in the race for the top four, moments like this are what make the difference.”

For Valencia, it was one step closer to Champions League football.

But with four more battles ahead, they knew—the war was far from over.