Chapter 82: Rust in the kingdom
[Copa del Rey – Round of 32:]
>Racing Santander vs Barcelona.
After what felt like a wait of forever since they successfully defended their Copa del Rey title for the 2nd consecutive season, FC Barcelona were about to kick off their cup campaign again for the season.
The Copa del Rey doesn’t start at the Round of 32 stage.
There are preliminary stages, the first and second rounds, but 4 La Liga clubs are exempted from participating in the preliminary stages as they receive a straight pass to the Round of 32 stage.
The four clubs received byes because they are the four representatives participating in the Spanish Super Cup.
After fighting their way through the preliminary rounds, Racing Santander faced their staunchest test by hosting the reigning La Liga champions at home.
The Estadio El Sardinero trembled long before kickoff.
Racing Santander’s faithful filled the stands, green and white flags fluttering like leaves in the winter wind.
It was the Round of 32 stage but to the Racing faithfuls, this was their cup final, a chance to test themselves against the might of Barcelona, the champions of Spain and Europe’s juggernauts.
The players knew it too.
Racing’s squad lined the tunnel, faces taut with fire. Across from them, Barcelona’s stars stretched casually, Lewandowski rolling his neck, Pedri balancing a ball on his foot, and Yamal whispering a joke to Gavi.
Robert Lewandowski was back to the FC Barcelona lineup.
And at the center stood Samuel Moses... Ballon d’Or winner, FIFA Best, CAF Player of the Year.
Every camera lens sought him, every Racing player’s eyes darted his way. To beat Barcelona was glory, but to stop Sam was legend.
The lineups were released about an hour ahead of time.
For Racing Santander, they started in a 4-4-2 formation with Parera in goal, while the back quadruple comprised Mantilla, German, Ruben Alves, and Enriquez. The midfield four comprised Inigo, Aldasoro, Sangalli, and Peque Fernandez.
As for the 2 strikers, they were Arana and Cedric.
The raucous crowd roared their players on.
On the other side, Barcelona started in their customary 4-2-3-1 formation with Joan Garcia in goal, while in defense was the quadruple of Kounde, Araujo, Cubarsi, and Balde. The midfield duo comprised Pedri and Gavi.
Further ahead were the dynamic trio of Yamal in right wing, Raphinha in left wing, and Sam through the middle as the central attacking midfielder.
Lewandowski was back in the lineup, leading the line as the striker.
Hansi Flick rotated carefully, resting De Jong and Christensen, but starting his young core. "Sharpness above all," he’d warned. "No excuses."
FWEEE!
The ball rolled, and instantly Racing pressed like wolves. Two, three men swarmed every Barça touch as they rode the energy of the raucous home crowd.
Raphinha was barged off the ball within seconds. Gavi lost possession in midfield, sparks of frustration flying.
Sam dropped deeper, linking passes, but even he was swarmed as the Racing Santander players made clear their intention to stifle Barca’s buildup. Every touch felt heavy, every movement a fraction slow.
But over the course of the season, they were not the first club to try such a tactic. But for some reason, today, it was working, and spectators soon realized...
The Christmas break had left rust on their gears. Even Sam seemed a little lethargic on the pitch.
And then, in the 12th minute, it came.
A long ball soared over Kounde. Cedric sprinted past, muscling the Frenchman aside. One touch, two, and a low shot zipped under Garcia’s hand.
GOAL!
FC Barcelona was stunned as El Sardinero erupted like an earthquake. 1-0 to Racing Santander. Fans roared, scarves swung, and children screamed in excitement as they relished the moment.
The Racing players swarmed Cedric, disbelief and ecstasy painted on their faces as they celebrated like men who just won the lottery.
Barcelona froze.
On the touchline, Hansi Flick’s jaw clenched.
But Sam clapped his hands, shouting at his teammates. "Vamos! Wake up!"
He dropped into midfield, demanding the ball. Soon after, Pedri and Gavi began to find their rhythm, triangles clicking slowly back into place. Balde surged down the wing, feeding Raphinha.
And in the 28th minute, Barça equalized.
Sam collected a pass from Pedri at the edge of the box, danced between two defenders with a Cruyff turn, before slipping it wide to Yamal.
The teenager whipped in a cross and Lewandowski rose high, beating his man before thundering a header past Parera.
1-1.
The Barça fans, a small pocket in the stands, roared in relief. Lewandowski pointed at Sam, acknowledging the pass that made it possible.
But Racing didn’t wilt. They doubled their pressing, snarled in tackles, and launched counters that had Araújo shouting furiously at his backline.
Sam found himself harried by Sangalli, who tugged his shirt at every turn. Gavi was clattered more than once, his temper bubbling. Even Pedri, usually so calm, misplayed a pass.
The crowd fed off it as every Barcelona mistake was a victory, and every Santander tackle a trophy.
As the game progressed, frustration bubbled.
Just before halftime, Sam drove forward, beating two men before being hacked down. He winced as he rolled on the turf, dust clinging to his kit.
The referee waved play on, and the stadium exploded with cheers. Sam slammed the grass in frustration, before Yamal helped him up.
"This is their World Cup," Sam muttered, sweat pouring down his face. "We can’t play at half-speed."
Yamal nodded. "Then we stop holding back."
Eventually, the referee stared at his watch then...
FWEEE!
The first half ended 1–1. Racing Santander’s players jogged into the tunnel with fists pumping, their fans chanting like they’d already won.
Barcelona walked off slower, silent, the sting of rust heavy in their legs.
Sam glanced at the scoreboard as he disappeared down the tunnel. 1–1 against Racing Santander... not good enough.
But then in his mind, the system pulsed.
DING!
~----~
[Minor Quest: Lead your team to victory by 3+ goals!]
[Reward: Boosted Match Fitness.]
Sam was surprised, but then he clenched his jaw. ’Good,’ he thought. ’No, great!’ He grinned.
The second half wasn’t going to be survival, it was going to be domination.