God Of football

Chapter 261: The Press[Massage chair by Nameyelus]

The players cheered, clapping, some chanting Izan’s name again.

Izan, ever composed, simply nodded, his usual smirk appearing. ”Just doing my job, míster.”

Laughter. More cheers.

Baraja smiled. ”Then keep doing it. Because this is just the beginning.”

[SMH]

The celebrations continued, but in the back of everyone’s mind, they knew—

This wasn’t the end of the story.

It was only the start of something far, far greater.

....

The press room was overflowing. Journalists packed every seat, some even standing at the back, cameras ready, microphones extended.

The tension and excitement were palpable—this wasn’t just another post-match interview. It was a historic moment for Valencia CF, and everyone wanted answers.

Rubén Baraja entered, still in his suit, still visibly emotional. His hair was slightly damp—either from sweat or the water and beer showers in the locker room.

As he took his seat, the murmurs died down. He adjusted the mic, glanced at the sea of reporters in front of him, and nodded to the press officer standing to his left.

”Let’s begin,” the press officer said.

The first hand shot up immediately.

—

”Rubén, first of all, congratulations. This is an incredible achievement. You’ve taken Valencia from a team struggling in mid-table to the Champions League. Can you put into words what this means for you, for the club, and for the fans?”

Baraja exhaled, tapping his fingers on the table for a moment before speaking.

”It’s difficult to describe. When I arrived, the club was in a difficult place. There were doubts, there was fear, and there was a lack of belief.

But from day one, I told the players that Valencia is too big to settle for mediocrity. That we had to fight, to suffer, to dream again.

And tonight, we’ve done it. We’ve made history.”

His voice softened slightly as he continued.

”This is for the fans. For those who have suffered through these recent difficult years. For those who kept coming to Mestalla, who kept believing in the badge even when things looked hopeless.

This is their moment. This club belongs in the Champions League. And now, we’re back.”

The room erupted into furious note-taking, the sound of fingers hammering keyboards filling the air.

Before long, another journalist quickly took the floor.

—

”Tonight’s match will be remembered for many reasons, but above all, it will be remembered for one name—Hernández Izan Miura. What do you make of his performance? What does he mean to this team?”

Baraja smiled, shaking his head slightly as if still processing what he had just witnessed.

”What can I say?” He chuckled. ”Izan is different. You don’t see players like him often. What he did tonight—it wasn’t normal. We were dead.

The game was slipping away. And then, with a teenager leading the charge, we turned it around.

He has something special. That fire, that courage, that belief. It’s not just talent—it’s mentality. Big players show up when it matters most, and Izan showed up in a way that very few can.

He’s only 16, but he plays like he’s been doing this for years. And that’s the scary part—this is just the beginning.”

After he finished answering, another reporter quickly raised a hand and cut in.

”With all due respect, coach, performances like these will attract attention from big clubs across Europe. Do you believe Valencia can keep him next season?”

Baraja’s expression hardened slightly. He expected this question. Everyone did.

”We are building something here,” he said firmly. ”This isn’t just about one season. Valencia is his home.

He loves this club. The fans adore him. And now, we’re in the Champions League. That’s where players like Izan belong.

Of course, in football, anything can happen. But if you ask me? He is staying.”

The conviction in his voice was unmistakable.

—

”Speaking of the Champions League, what are Valencia’s ambitions for next season? Can this team compete at that level?” Another journalist intercepted.

Baraja leaned back slightly, nodding.

”The Champions League is another level, we know that. But Valencia has a rich history in Europe. This is not a small club.

We’re not just going there to participate. We’re going there to compete. Will it be difficult? Yes. But we have a young, hungry squad. We will reinforce, we will prepare, and we will be ready.

The most important thing is that we’ve given this club back its identity. We’ve shown that Valencia can dream again.”

The people and the room put pen to paper while some wrote on their electronic devices. After they were done, the conference continued.

”You’ve built a strong foundation, but as you mentioned, reinforcements will be necessary. What areas do you believe need strengthening?”

Baraja rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

”That’s something we’ll discuss internally with the board and the sporting director. But of course, we know where we need to improve.

We need depth. The Champions League is unforgiving, and we need to have a squad capable of handling both La Liga and Europe.

The key is to find players who fit our philosophy—players with hunger, with character, with quality. We’re not just looking for names. We’re looking for warriors.”

—

”One last question about Izan—Spain has the Euros coming up. Do you believe he deserves a spot in the national team?”

Baraja smiled knowingly. He had expected this one.

”That’s a question for Luis de la Fuente,” he said, lifting his hands slightly. ”But if you ask me? Look at what he’s done. Look at how he plays.

Of course, I think he has the quality. But it’s not my decision. The national team coach will make his choices based on what he thinks is best.

What I do know is that Izan will keep working, and keep improving. Whether it’s now or in the future, his time with La Roja will come.”

—

The press officer signaled that time was almost up, but one last question was allowed.

”Rubén, this is your first full season in charge. And now, you’ve taken Valencia to the Champions League. What does this mean for you personally? And how do you reflect on your journey so far?”

Baraja paused. His eyes flickered with emotion.

”When I played for Valencia, I felt what this club means. I experienced the highs, the lows, the magic of Mestalla.

Now, as a coach, I feel it even more deeply. This is my club. My home. And to be the one leading this team back to where it belongs—it’s a feeling I can’t describe.

But this is just the beginning. Valencia is back, and we’re not stopping here.”

—

With that, the press conference ended.

Baraja rose from his seat, nodding to the reporters before making his way out. But as he stepped into the tunnel, the chants from the stadium could still be heard faintly in the distance.

”IZAN! IZAN! IZAN!”

A small smile crossed his face.

This was only the start of something far, far greater.

...….

The night in Valencia stretched deep into the early hours, the city still trembling with celebration.

Mestalla had long emptied, but the echoes of its madness lingered in the streets.

Thousands of fans had flooded the roads, honking, chanting, setting off fireworks—this was a night they would never forget.

Inside the team bus, the Valencia players sat in varying states of exhaustion.

Some leaned against the windows, watching the city blur past, while others scrolled through their phones, already seeing their names trending domestically and somewhat internationally too.

Izan sat near the back, his body finally feeling the weight of the match. He had given everything and emptied himself on the pitch, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, all that remained was sheer exhaustion.

His phone vibrated nonstop with messages—his mom, his sister Hori, Olivia, teammates, journalists, agents.

A text from Olivia stood out.

Olivia: Superstar. You’re insane. Enjoy this moment and Call me when you can.

He smirked but didn’t reply yet. Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes as the voices of his teammates faded into the background.

Baraja, sitting near the front, glanced back at his squad. The satisfaction was evident on his face.

They had done the impossible, brought the club back to the Champions League. But he also knew—this was just the beginning.

The bus pulled up at the training ground, where players collected their cars to head home. Izan walked toward his own, greeted by Komi and Hori waiting for him.

His mother wrapped him in a tight hug, while his sister punched his arm playfully.

”You’re a menace, you know that?” Hori grinned. ”You’ve made half of Spain either love you or hate you tonight.”

Izan chuckled. ”That’s football.”

As they got into the car, Komi placed a hand on his. ”We’re proud of you. No matter what happens next.”

He nodded. No matter what happened next.

Because now, the footballing world was shifting its attention to something even bigger.

A/n: Extra chapter sponsored by nameyelus. Thanks for the massage chair and have fan reading. [Get it cause you’re a fan and you have fun but then fan..... Ok I’ll stop good night from here]