Chapter 116: The Ancient Wall of China? Nah, the Ancient Wall of Atleti
Across Spain, among the footballing circles of the glorious footballing country, every other attraction and noise faded into the background as all focus became abstracted towards one competition... the Copa del Rey semifinal.
The Copa del Rey semifinal was unlike the previous stages of the competition though. Unlike the preliminary elimination stages, the Copa del Rey semifinal is a 2-legged game, meaning both teams would get to play in each other’s homes.
It was just like the knockout stages of the UEFA Champions league.
This was why the noise in the buildup to the game became even louder.
Catalan and Madrid fans went at loggerheads on social media platforms as they fanned the flames of the war alongside the media.
The media dubbed it "Barcelona’s Brilliance vs Simeone’s Iron", and the fans could not have loved it better.
Atleti fans under Diego Simeone were already used to grinding out results, and always fighting for victory in the biggest stages against the staunchest opposition, so they didn’t expect an easy game against Barcelona.
They were the underdogs, and they expected a war, but they loved it just like that, simply because Diego Simeone’s Atleti thrived in war situations.
They didn’t have the young electric core of Barcelona, neither the sheer indomitability of their city rivals, Real Madrid, but what they had was grit and heart.
What they had was pride, pride that would push them to fight for the badge to the end, and that was what they wore like a trait.
Yes, they already lost against FC Barcelona once this season in a major stage, heck, it was just last month in the Supercopa de Espana final.
That defeat still stung, but the mere fact that they made it to that stage alone was what gave Atleti fans confidence this time that they could pull out another miracle from their beloved coach’s box of miraculous tricks.
Back then in the Supercopa final, just like now, Atleti were billed as the underdogs and their city rivals, Real Madrid were billed as the heavy favorites.
But what happened?
In the end, football was football, unpredictable.
History didn’t follow the script that fans expected, it didn’t follow the script that seemed evident on paper, rather it followed the script of destiny.
Against their cross-city rivals, Atletico Madrid dug in, setting their hearts ablaze and wholesomely embracing the crazy tactics of their head coach, and against all odds, they did it against the mighty Real Madrid.
If they could do it against Real Madrid, who was FC Barcelona? They could do it again!
This was the sentiment in Madrid... this was the sentiment among Atleti fans.
FC Barcelona fans?
Unlike the Atleti fans, the sentiment among them was more lighthearted and upbeat. Afterall, they were the favorites.
By now, it was no debate in world football that FC Barcelona had the most brilliant young squad in Europe, and that they had 3 of the best young players currently in football in Samuel Moses, Lamine Yamal, and Pedri Gonzalez.
With Sam either as the striker or the attacking midfielder, with Yamal as the right winger, and with Pedri in midfield, Barcelona looked unbeatable.
This and other reasons gave birth to Barca fans’ confidence, and you couldn’t blame them, their team was truly that brilliant.
Against Atleti though, they didn’t expect an easy victory, even more since it was a 2 leg game and the first game was being played in their home, meaning Atleti would have the advantage in the 2nd leg.
They expected staunch resistance from the Madrid team, but in the end, Barca fans still believed in the attacking firepower of their team to pull through.
In a pre-game interview, a group of confident fans were asked by the media of their predictions for the game and their answer resonated with all Barca fans.
"I expect Atleti to frustrate us, but they can’t hold us forever man, not with Sam on the pitch, not with Yamal and Pedri, not with Raphinha man".
"My prediction is 4-1," he grinned. "The first half is going to be 2-0, the second half 4-0 but Atleti will find a consolation goal late to make it 4-1".
The other fans grinned. "My prediction is 3-1, Atleti can be frustrating but with Sam, we’ll break any defense!"
"Wow, that’s very confident!" The reporter smiled. "Well, I wish you guys luck, I’ll be rooting for your team!"
"You better do, because tonight we’re going to light up Madrid in flames!" They laughed before trudging off into the stadium.
Barca fans came in the tens of thousands, arriving hours before the game as the Spotify Camp Nou became an ocean of blue and red.
But they were not the only ones filling the legendary stadium, passionate Atletico Madrid fans made the trip in the thousands to support their club.
Even amid the raucous Catalan atmosphere, they tried their best to make their presence known, trying to tip the scales in any way they could.
Tonight, the Atleti fans were passionate and it showed. But of course, it was just impossible to dwarf the Catalan presence tonight at the Spotify Camp Nou.
BUZZZ!
The Camp Nou was a furnace of noise.
Floodlights cut through the crisp January air like pathfinder headlights in an apocalypse movie, banners rippled like waves, and more than ninety thousand culers raised their scarves as the players walked out.
"VISCA BARCA!" "VISCA CATALUNYA!"
They roared at the top of their lungs, dwarfing the Atleti fan resistance.
This wasn’t just a semifinal. Against Diego Simeone’s Atlético Madrid, this was always a war and they were ready.
The stadium announcer’s voice thundered as the lineups were confirmed.
FC Barcelona started in their typical 4-2-3-1 formation with Joan Garcia back to goal, while ahead of him was the familiar defensive quadruple of Jules Kounde, Araujo, Cubarsi, and Balde.
The midfield duo comprised Pedri and De Jong, with Fermin Lopez in attacking midfield, while the main attackers comprised Yamal, Sam, and Raphinha.
Opposing them was Atletico Madrid’s 4-4-2 formation with Oblak in goal, while ahead of him was the defensive quadruple of Hancko, Clement Lenglet, Robin Le Normand, and Marcus Llorente.
The midfield comprised Pablo Barrios, Cardoso, Thiago Almada, and Simeone Jnr., while the 2-man attacked comprised Alexander Sorloth and Julian Alvarez.
The atmosphere in the stadium was absolutely electric, thick as a quagmire as tension rippled like a banner of dread.
On the touchline, Diego Simeone stood in his black suit, coat flapping, his eyes like fire as he walked up and down the touchline. He knew his script: make this a battlefield, drag Barcelona into the mud, and silence their rhythm.
The only question was... could his players do it?
Well, there was no time for doubts now, it was time execution time.
FWEEEEE!
The whistle blew, the game started, and Atlético charged!
From the first second, it was chaos.
Sorloth threw his gigantic body into Araujo at every opportunity, Cardoso slid across the grass to chop down Balde, while Robin Le Normand rose like a tower to win every aerial duel and smother every Barcelona attack.
For the first few minutes of the game, despite being at home, Barça’s artistry had no space to breathe as Atletico smothered them with raw pressing intensity.
It was way past the 5th minute before Sam, drifting between the lines, received his first pass of the night, but immediately, crunch! Lenglet swept his legs from under him as Barcelona fans quickly bellowed in protest.
The Bernabéu hat trick hero was left grimacing with grass stains across his kit, while Simeone on the sidelines applauded his men like generals.
The atmosphere was fever-pitch already.
But as the game continued, the pattern repeated. Every time Barça tried to build, an Atlético body smashed through them.
Raphinha tried a sprint down the left, but he was shoulder-checked off the ball. Pedri attempted a line-splitting pass but was intercepted. Fermin Lopez tried to wriggle free, but he was fouled, fouled again, and fouled again until the referee’s whistle became a metronome of frustration.
And then came the 19th minute, and Atleti struck!
A long throw from Llorente launched into the box, bodies scrambled, and chaos reigned. The ball ricocheted off Araujo’s shin before falling kindly to Álvarez, who slammed it past Joan García from six yards.
BAM!
GOAL! 0–1.
"..."
The Spotify Camp Nou went silent.
Atlético players sprinted to the corner flag, fists pumping and jerseys tugged as they celebrated. Simeone charged down the touchline with his veins bulging, barking at his men to hold the line and to bleed for the badge.
The game restarted and Barça pushed back, but Atleti’s wall stood tall.
A few minutes after the goal, Yamal erupted and danced on the right, nutmegging Lenglet, but Oblak tipped his curling strike wide.
Sometime later, Sam muscled past Le Normand in the 33rd minute, only to be yanked down cynically.
The referee awarded a yellow card, but still no goal.
By halftime, frustration gnawed at every blaugrana nerve. Sam rubbed his thigh where yet another late tackle burned. Flick stood with arms crossed, stone-faced as his men trudged into the tunnel.
The scoreboard read:
[HALF-TIME: Barcelona 0-1 Atletico Madrid]
A shocker... no one saw this coming in the buildup to the game.
The Spotify Camp Nou simmered with the restlessness and nervous anger of Barca fans, the roar of 90,000 desperate for release.
This wasn’t football, this was trench warfare.