God Of football

Chapter 1023: Not So Easy, Is It?

When Izan said what he’d said at the press conference, he hadn’t meant it as a challenge.

He just answered the question the way he saw it and walked out of the media room, thinking nothing more of it.

But by the time the second matchday of the group stage arrived, his words had taken on a life of their own.

The fans of the bigger nations had been the loudest voices after the Cape Verde game.

They were the ones calling Spain’s group, practically just a free pass, despite being another top side in Uruguay in the group.

After they had seen Izan’s interview, it had further agitated them, because to them, Spain, a team that was already packed, was being favoured.

And so when the second matchday arrived, and the results started coming in, the Spanish supporters were ready.

As part of the early matches of the second matchday, Uruguay went against Cape Verde.

It was supposed to be straightforward after all, Spain had just put 6 past Cape Verde, so anything less than 3 was going to be a bad performance from Uruguay, who were much more experienced and organised, aside from the fact that they had players who could change games by themselves.

The assumption was comfortable, but that assumption couldn’t have been more wrong.

At the start of the game, Cape Verde set up the same way they had against Spain, pressed the same way, competed the same way, and the result that came out of it was not what anyone could have predicted.

It was a goalless draw and a single point at the end of the game for the South American side.

Uruguay, with all their pedigree and all their quality, had been held to a single point by the same Cape Verde side that the internet had spent four days describing as a free three points.

And as soon as the game ended, the Spanish fan accounts woke up immediately.

”So about that easy group,” a fan commented, leaving the rest to the interpretation of others.

To add fuel to the fire, England played Panama, a tie that was supposed to be the game where England answered the comparisons to Spain’s demolition of Cape Verde.

Instead, it went down to the wire.

Yes, England won, but it was marginal.

The game was a five-goal thriller that saw England take the win in the 92nd minute through a Rashford setpiece after Panama made the whole game uncomfortable for Thomas Tuchel’s side, and the Spanish fans, once again, didn’t let it go.

Three to two against Panama. Spain scored six against Cape Verde. Easy group, though, right?

Y’all can’t even win comfortably against Panama, and you still question Spain’s ability.

I’m just waiting for France to choke similarly!

The discussion soon moved from the web to studios as pundits picked it up.

One former international on a major broadcast said, carefully, that perhaps the Cape Verde performance had told them more about Spain than they’d initially given it credit for.

The internet, though, didn’t really care for that.

All they saw were the scorelines and screenshots, and that alone filled them with the particular joy of being proved right about something in public.

As all this went on, the training pitch in Chattanooga was in full session.

Despite all that was going on online, the players focused on their game, mainly because of the no-phones policy during sessions that Luis De La Fuente had implemented after the players began spending more time on their phones than in the gym.

They had been annoyed at first, but as the days went on, they started getting used to it and decided to use their energy on the field instead of grumbling at De La Fuente.

A couple of days before their game against Saudi Arabia, De la Fuente stood on the touchline with his cap pulled low, his voice carrying across the grass full of clarity and command that left no room for interpretation.

”Quicker, boys! Let’s go. One touch, one touch and then go. We don’t stop, we don’t hold it, we move!”

”Better. Pedro, tighter, yes. Good.”

He clapped twice, sharply and then, ”Again!” he roared after a player held onto the ball for too long.

When you stood outside the scope, it felt eerily simple, what the players were being asked to do, until you were the one being made to chase after the ball.

It got to a point in play where it began to look like the players shared the same brain, and De la Fuente tracked it from the touchline, head moving, noting everything.

Then Oyarzabal called for the ball wide left.

The timing of his run felt engineered to beat the defensive line, until Cubarsí at the back stepped up, hoping to catch Oyazarbal offside.

Izan, who had the ball, had already noticed Oyarzaba run, but he had noticed Cubarsi’s movement too.

Still, it looked like he’d sent the ball the way of the Real Sociedad man anyway until he raised his left foot and came through the ball in a split second, leaving not enough time for the Spanish defenders to react.

The round object left him like it had been shot out of a cannon, rising fast and bending just enough to hit the top right corner of the post and homing into the back of the net, leaving Raya rooted to where he stood.

He couldn’t even feel sad because this was what he had been facing at Arsenal since the latter joined the team.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he had gotten used to it because with Izan around, there was no such thing as getting used to him.

After a while, he just turned and looked at the ball in the net and then looked back at Izan with a bob of his head.

From the side, one of the assistant coaches let out a short breath.

”Very good,” he said to nobody but to everybody at the same time.

”What even is that?” Cubarsi said as he lifted himself off the grass.

On the other hand, De la Fuente raised his hand and then pointed towards the side.

”Izan, you’re off for Olmo.”

Dani Olmo jogged in from the periphery while Izan jogged out, spreading his already wet bib across his face as if it could clean something.

He found the cooler near the edge of the technical area, pulled a water bottle from it, and sat down on the lid while the session continued on the pitch.

He’d taken another long drink from the bottle and was looking at the pitch when De la Fuente appeared at his shoulder, clasping it for a second.

”How are you feeling?”

Izan brought the bottle down, then nodded.

”I’m okay.”

”Mmhmm,” the bald tactician agreed while Izan turned toward him, immediately guessing the thoughts of his manager.

”You’re planning on resting me, aren’t you?”

De la Fuente’s head snapped sideways so fast that it was almost comic, and that was enough to send Izan as the latter clutch his abdomen.

The man’s expression had been that funny.

”Don’t look so surprised,” Izan said, still smiling. ”Every time you’ve got something like this in mind, you come over and ask how I’m feeling first.”

De la Fuente pressed his lips together.

Then he exhaled.

”I’m not trying to disrespect Saudi Arabia,” he said.

”That’s not what this is. But using you in this game feels....”

He searched for the word a moment before Izan offered.

”Overkill?”

De la Fuente made a gesture that wasn’t quite a nod and wasn’t quite a shrug.

At that, Izan looked back at the pitch in time to catch Olmo receive the ball and play it first time to Lamine, who latched onto it and curled on past Raya, only for the latter to push it out.

”Messi,” Izan suddenly said, which made De la Fuente look at him.

”He and his Argentina won the tournament the last time and the only loss they had....” Izan turned to face him, ” was against Saudi Arabia.”

The point sat between them for a moment.

”No game should be taken for granted,” Izan continued.

”I’d like to play. If it were up to me, I’d play every minute of every game.”

”But that’s your call. It always has been.”

De la Fuente held his gaze for a moment.

Then he looked back at the pitch, and for a while, neither of them said anything.

From the edge of the session, a ball rolled wide off a misplaced pass and came bouncing toward the cooler.

Porro jogged after it, hand out ready to grab it, only for Izan, without standing, to stretch his right toes beneath the ball and flick it toward the Tottenham man without looking.

Pedro caught it and kept his eyes on Izan for a second before shaking his head and then turning around to toss the ball back into play.