Chapter 47: The last test
Tick tock goes the clock, a nursery rhyme went...
Time waited for no man. Matchday 1, 2, 3... 9, it was here in a blink of an eye, the Matchday before D-day, the last Matchday before El Clasico.
The weight of the footballing world hung heavy over Spain.
One final matchday stood between Barcelona and Real Madrid and the most anticipated El Clásico in years.
It was not El Clasico yet, but it felt like the attention of the whole world was already on the two Spanish giants as football fans gathered in numbers to watch their Matchday 9 games to get a first-hand perspective of their form before the heavily hyped and anticipated clash of Titans.
From morning shows in Tokyo to late-night talk in New York, pundits framed the weekend with one sentence...
"This is the last rehearsal. Who blinks first?"
Every camera, every microphone, every fan’s gaze was fixed on two games.
[La Liga: Matchday 9]
>Barcelona vs Girona.
>Venue: Spotify Camp Nou.
...
>Levante vs Real Madrid.
>Venue: Cuitat de Valencia.
Two fixtures, two giants, one countdown to October 26th.
...
19th October, 2026...
Barcelona vs Girona.
The Spotify Camp Nou pulsed like a living heart, over ninety thousand fans singing with anticipation. Girona had made life difficult for Barcelona last season, sneaking a draw in Catalonia.
But tonight of all nights, Barça couldn’t afford slip-ups.
Once again, Hansi Flick’s formation had Sam leading the line as the striker, flanked by Raphinha and the electric Lamine Yamal. Flick had demanded nothing less than perfection.
"Remember," he said in the dressing room. "Girona will sit deep and counter. Don’t lose patience. Break them, then break them again till they fracture".
FWEEE!
As soon as the referee’s whistle sounded, Barcelona pressed like a hurricane.
Yamal dazzled with his footwork, weaving past defenders, drawing gasps from the crowd. But Girona’s goalkeeper, Paulo Gazzaniga, seemed possessed as save after save from him denied the Blaugrana.
Nerves were high in the stadium.
And then, in the 23rd minute, Girona stunned the stadium. A rare counter led to a curling shot that clipped the crossbar.
Hansi Flick clenched his fists; that was a warning and he didn’t like it.
But Barcelona’s response came swift. In the 35th minute, Sam dropped deep, dragging defenders with him, and slipped a disguised pass to Raphinha. The Brazilian smashed it low and hard.
The Sam + Raphinha connection struck again to devastating effect.
1–0 Barcelona.
BOOM!
The roar shook the ground. Raphinha sprinted to the corner, tapping the crest on his chest as the fans went gaga in euphoria.
The first half came to an end 1-0.
When second half started, Girona pushed higher in a bid to get the equalizer but in so doing, they left space in behind and Barça struck with surgical precision.
In the 63rd minute, Gavi intercepted a loose pass and fed Sam. One touch, turn, and then... BOOM!
A rocket into the top corner.
The goalkeeper was rooted to one spot, watching like the spectators.
2–0 Barcelona.
The crowd erupted. Sam didn’t even celebrate wildly; he just raised one finger to the sky in celebration. Calm, ruthless, inevitable.
By the 80th minute, the game was dead. Yamal added gloss with a curling beauty from the edge of the box to seal it.
[FULL-TIME: Barcelona 3-0 Girona]
"Sam!" "Sam!" "Sam!"
The Camp Nou chanted Sam’s name long after the whistle. Another win, another clean sheet, another warning to the world; Barça were not slowing down.
Sam claimed another man of the match award for his goal and assist.
...
Meanwhile in Valencia...
Levante vs Real Madrid.
Across Spain, the Ciutat de València brimmed with a different kind of fire. Levante fans, energetically waving blue and red scarves dreamed of an upset.
Xabi Alonso didn’t care about their dreams though, he named his strongest starting XI for the game with Mbappé up front, flanked by Vinícius and Rodrygo, with Bellingham and Valverde in midfield.
Arda Güler started again as the dictator, alongside Trent Alexander-Arnold marauding the right flank from the back.
Madrid knew the pressure. Barcelona had already won.
There was only one expected response from them... a win. Anything but victory would hand psychological advantage to their eternal rivals before El Clásico.
And so, they put in a shift.
FWEEE!
But life is a funny thing, it doesn’t always go according to plan.
The script twisted early as in the 12th minute, Levante struck on the break. A long diagonal found their striker who with a cushioned header controlled the ball before unleashing a thunderous volley to beat Courtois.
BAM!
1–0 Levante.
The stadium exploded. Madrid’s stars stared in disbelief.
"Stay calm!" Alonso barked from the touchline.
Madrid listened to their coach and did just that, they didn’t lose their head. They simply pushed relentlessly, and then in the 30th minute, Vinícius delivered.
Cutting inside from the left, the Brazilian silenced the stadium by curling one into the far post.
1–1.
"Talk now!" He taunted the home fans, which triggered a wave of boos at him. But Vinicius didn’t care, he rode the wave of boos, turning it into motivation.
By halftime, Madrid were level, but the murmurs grew; Barça had dominated, but Madrid was struggling.
Well, Madrid didn’t care.
The second half soon started.
It was a war. Levante defended like lions, and Madrid pressed like wolves. Chances came and went; Mbappé hit the post with an instinctive shot, Rodrygo was denied by a fingertip save.
But then, finally in the 72nd minute, Bellingham rose above everyone and powered a header home from a Trent cross.
1–2 Madrid.
Jude Bellingham jogged to the corner flag and did his celebration, ignoring the wave of boos from the Levante fans.
Xabi Alonso punched the air in celebration, relief etched on his face. But the game wasn’t done. In stoppage time, Levante nearly equalized with a looping header, but Courtois tipped it over spectacularly.
Finally, the whistle blew. Madrid survived.
[FULL-TIME: Levante 1-2 Real Madrid]
...
The reactions to the game came instantly. In Spain’s bars, living rooms, and news studios, debates erupted instantly.
"Barcelona are cruising. Madrid are struggling."
"Struggling? That’s how Madrid has always been, have you forgotten 2022 with Ancelotti? This is our style. Madrid win even when they bleed, that’s the difference."
"Man, I’m hyped. Sam is inevitable, Mbappé is inevitable. This El Clásico... damn, it’s gonna break records."
Social media fanned the flames.
Barca fans were merciless in their predictions. "We’ll dominate, you’ll see. I’m betting my whole net worth on it. October 26th, you’ll see the truth."
Madridistas were not to be undone though.
"We’ll teach these deluded Barca fans the price of arrogance. We suffer, but we win. You’ll suffer, and you’ll collapse, just watch".
The hype was unbearable.
After nine games, this was how the La Liga table read.
Rank/ Club/ Points/ GD
1. FC Barcelona/ 27/ +23
2. Real Madrid/ 27/ +16
3. Atletico Madrid/ 21/ +9
4. Sevilla/ 18/ +6 ...
Both Spanish giants were level on points, literally having a flawless campaign with only goal difference separating them.
But they were two trains on a collision course.
Next Matchday, 1 club would inevitably lose their winning run. The question was, who? Madrid or Barcelona?
...
At the Spotify Camp Nou, Sam stood with Kayla in the quiet of night after fans had gone. He looked out at the empty seats, the echoes of chants still lingering.
"Next week," he murmured. "Next week everything changes."
...
Across Madrid, Valverde and Mbappé sat in the dressing room, exhausted but defiant. They had a subtle smile on their faces.
"Barcelona think they’re kings," Mbappé smirked, clenching his fists. "We’ll remind them who rules Spain. I’ve seen this club create miracles while growing up, it’s time we create our own miracle".
The countdown had begun... one week until El Clásico.