Chapter 99: The night without Gods
After the Supercopa came the Copa del Rey, after the Copa came La Liga, and after La Liga came the UEFA Champions league.
Champions League is back!
The Champions League anthem soared across Europe again, but for once, two of its brightest lights sat in the shadows.
Having made a clean sweep of all their past 6 games in the league phase of the UEFA Champions League, necessitated by the ramping number of games, Hansi Flick and Xabi Alonso made crazy decisions that took the world by storm.
For Real Madrid and Barcelona’s UEFA Champions League games this time, no Samuel Moses, and no Kylian Mbappé. Both were absent. Both rested, and both were wrapped in blankets of preservation by their managers.
This season for their respective clubs, they’ve been the standout players in the epic rivalry, and for once, their coaches gave them rest.
Hansi Flick and Xabi Alonso had rotated heavily, knowing the La Liga title race burned too hot to risk fatigue. For one night, the gods stepped aside, and for one night, the mortals had their chance.
[UEFA Champions League- Matchday 7:]
(Union Berlin vs Barcelona – Stadion An der Alten Försterei)
The Stadion an der Alten Försterei trembled under the songs of 22,000 Union Berlin faithful. The opponent was Barca, but the Germans didn’t care. The cold German air bit harsh as flares burned red, with drums beating like this was war.
For Union Berlin, hosting Barcelona wasn’t just a game, it was a festival, a test of spirit.
But Barça arrived calm, rotated yet still dangerous.
Hansi Flick reverted his formation to a 4-3-3 with Joan Garcia in goal, while the 4-man defense comprised Kounde, Christensen, Eric Garcia, and Gerard Martin. The midfield trio were Marc Casado, Fermin Lopez, and Frankie de Jong.
As for the attacking trio, it was Lamine Yamal, Ferran Torres, and Marcus Rashford for tonight.
From the first whistle, Union pressed high, bodies flying into tackles as roars vibrated with every duel won. The Union Berlin players swarmed Ferran Torres, bullied Rashford, and hacked at Fermin Lopez.
For twenty minutes, Barcelona struggled. Every pass felt hurried, every clearance desperate. The home fans smelled blood.
But Yamal, still only 19, still fearless slowed everything with the ball at his feet. On the right wing, he dribbled with elegance, hips swaying, dragging defenders into chaos.
At times, he didn’t feel like he was playing football at all. His dribbling was so smooth it felt like he was gliding in clouds instead.
The men instructed to mark him suffered.
In the 31st minute, he danced past Jaeckel and slalomed inside, before curling one toward the far corner. Union Berlin’s goalkeeper, Rönnow, stretched full length to claw it away.
Halftime came to an end with the game still level.
The stadium roared approval; the underdogs had stood tall. Now, all they had to do was endure for 45 more minutes.
But Barça always find a way.
Even without the likes of Sam, Pedri, and Lewandowski on the pitch, they still managed to find a way.
In the 53rd minute, Frenkie de Jong carved Union apart with one pass, sliding between two midfielders before splitting the backline. Ferran Torres darted through. He took just one touch, and it translated to one finish.
GOAL!
0–1 Barcelona.
The stadium was briefly silenced, but then the home fans resumed the noise.
Union tried to rally, throwing long balls into the box as they whipped corners furiously. Christensen and Eric Garcia battled in the air, fists clenched, shirts tugged, but they never folded.
And then Yamal killed the Union dream.
In the 82nd minute of the game, he received wide, three defenders charging at him, and then Yamal exploded...
BZZZ!
He nutmegged one, skipped past another, and with the outside of his boot bent the ball into the top corner, leaving the stadium stunned.
0–2.
The stadium groaned, heads fell, but applause broke out too in respect for the boy who had stolen the stage.
[FULL-TIME: Union Berlin 0 – 2 Barcelona]
At the end of the game, Hansi Flick smiled in front of the press. "The future is now," he grinned. "Yamal, Fermín, Ferran, they showed tonight that this is not just Sam’s Barcelona. It’s everyone’s Barcelona".
...
On another side of the world.
[Feyenoord vs Real Madrid – De Kuip, Rotterdam]
Feyenoord took on Real Madrid.
De Kuip burned alive with passion.
Rotterdam’s fortress rocked as Feyenoord’s fans raised their voices into the night, daring to believe.
Madrid, wounded pride still fresh from their Supercopa exit, came armed with veterans and hungry reserves. No Mbappé, no Vinícius, no Bellingham. Still, the white shirt carried weight.
They maintained their 4-3-3 formation with Lunin in goal, with a defense of Carvajal, Asencio, Huijsen, and Fran Garcia. The midfield had Tchouameni, Camavinga, and Ceballos, while the attack had Brahim Diaz, Goncalo Garcia, and Guler.
The game started fiery as Feyenoord pressed with unrelenting energy, urged on by their fans.
The momentum generated by the fans crescendoed as in the 10th minute, Stengs fired from range, forcing Lunin to parry wide.
But Madrid’s midfield, enigmatic like usual calmed the storm. Ceballos stroked the ball around with surgical ease, while Camavinga glided, every turn and run a masterclass in ball-carrying.
In the 28th minute, it finally clicked.
Brahim Díaz, lively on the right, skinned his man and curled a teasing cross in. Goncalo Garcia leapt with perfect timing, and thumped his header past Bijlow.
0–1 Madrid.
The Madrid players roared together, Garcia punching the air, Dani Ceballos hugging him like a proud father.
In the second half, Feyenoord threw everything forward.
Santiago Giménez tested Lunin, and Hancko thundered a header just wide. The Dutch crowd smelled hope.
But Arda Güler silenced them.
In the 61st minute of the game, he collected the ball twenty-five yards out. With one feint, then one shimmy, he created space before curling a left-footed beauty into the far corner.
Bijlow flew, but the ball kissed the net like destiny.
0–2 Madrid.
Rotterdam gasped.
The Turkish jewel ran to the bench, arms spread wide in ecstasy.
Feyenoord pulled one back through Giménez in the 73rd minute, smashing home from a scramble.
In response, the stadium shook with belief reborn.
But though Madrid bent, they never broke. Asencio cleared a certain equalizer off the line in the 86th minute, throwing his body like a warrior.
Madrid made it to the finish line again unscathed.
[FINAL WHISTLE: Feyenoord 1 – 2 Real Madrid]
Alonso smiled thinly. "We respect Feyenoord, but this is Madrid. Even without our stars, Madrid always wins."
The Aftermath was joy in Spain as Spanish fans rejoiced. Both giants rotated heavily, but they were still victorious.
Marca wrote. "Without Moses, Without Mbappé- Barça and Madrid March On."
"Depth Wins Games: Yamal and Güler Shine Bright."
L’Equipe. "Spain’s Titans Show Squad Power in Europe."
Pundits whispered of the future; Yamal, Güler, the heirs to the thrones. But fans though wanted one thing, they wanted Sam vs Mbappé.
Not yet, but soon.
For one night, the gods rested. And still, their kingdoms stood tall.