The draw for the Europa League round of sixteen unfolded at UEFA's headquarters in Nyon, in a room that felt neutral—soft lighting, polite applause, and executives in dark suits trying to appear indifferent about the names being pulled from the bowl.
Laurence Gonzales found himself seated between Mauro and club president Miguel Concepción, his hands neatly folded and his expression calm. It was clear that Tenerife had already surpassed expectations by making it this far. What happened next would shape how the rest of Europe perceived them.
When the matchup was revealed—Club Deportivo Tenerife versus Manchester United—a subtle murmur rippled through the room. Laurence held back his immediate reaction, nodding once in a polite acknowledgment, as if this were just another routine fixture.
But deep down, he understood the significance.
Manchester United, especially under Sir Alex Ferguson, were no ordinary English team. They were disciplined, ruthless, and had a wealth of experience in European knockout matches.
The first leg would take place at Old Trafford, a venue that rarely rolled out the red carpet for visitors. Their roster boasted players who had not only played but triumphed on the grandest stages: Wayne Rooney, Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidić. This was a squad that thrived on punishing any hint of hesitation.
On the flight back, Miguel attempted to lift the spirits. "This is great for the club," he remarked. "Think of the exposure. Television coverage. Sponsors will be thrilled."
Mauro gazed out the window, lost in thought. Laurence kept his words to a minimum. It wasn't the event itself that made him uneasy; it was the slim margin for error. In league matches, mistakes could sometimes be fixed over the course of ninety minutes. But in Europe, against a team that was so precise, there was no room for slip-ups.
That evening, he lingered at the training ground. United's recent games played out on the screen. He noted their off-the-ball tempo, how Rooney would drop back into midfield to create overloads, and the sharpness of their transitions.
The next morning, training kicked off under a calm sky. The players were aware of the draw. There were some jokes at breakfast, light-hearted comments about swapping shirts at Old Trafford, but nothing too over the top. Laurence gathered everyone before they warmed up.
"You all know who we're up against," he said. "And you know how we made it this far."
He didn't sugarcoat the challenge, nor did he downplay it.
"They're efficient. They don't waste time. If we give them opportunities to transition, they'll take them. So we need to avoid those transitions. We stick to our structure and pick our moments wisely."
Casemiro raised his hand slightly. "High press or mid-block?"
"Controlled press," Laurence answered. "We press when the trigger is clear. Not just for show. If we can't win it cleanly, we reset."
There was no grand speech about destiny—just the nitty-gritty. Spacing between lines, defensive distances, and how to manage those crucial first fifteen minutes in Manchester.
After the session wrapped up, Joel lingered a bit to put the finishing touches on things. "Do you think they'll sit back more than the La Liga teams?" he asked, keeping it casual.
"Nope," Laurence replied. "They'll test us first. If we hold our ground, then the game opens up."
Meanwhile, across town, people were buzzing about the draw in cafés and on local radio. Lucia was watching a replay of the announcement on TV with her family.
Her dad shook his head. "This is a big one," he said. Not in a defeatist way, just being realistic. Lucia grabbed her phone and shot a quick message to Laurence—short and sweet: You'll win, I have a feeling.
But before they could think about Europe, they had to face the domestic challenge.
Sevilla away. The Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán was known for being tough, and Laurence made a surprising call that raised a few eyebrows among the staff: Neymar would start on the bench. He had just come back from an injury, and Laurence wanted him sharp for the Manchester match. It wasn't about being cautious; it was about managing his minutes wisely.
The tactical setup was careful but not overly defensive. Robertson and Grimaldo played as wingbacks. Kante teamed up with Ricardo León in midfield, while Joel floated behind Quaresma and Natalio. Casemiro was out due to suspension, and De Vrij, still working on his fitness, started on the bench, leaving Varane, Bellvis and Koulibaly to hold down the defense.
From the first whistle, Sevilla set the pace.
Their midfield moved smartly, cutting off passing lanes before Tenerife could take advantage of the width. Joel found fewer openings than usual. Quaresma drifted inside looking for touches, sometimes going too deep. Natalio battled for aerial balls but didn't get much help.
The first goal came midway through the first half. Tenerife had pushed forward for a corner. The clearance landed with Sevilla's midfield, and in a flash, the ball was sent through to Youssef En-Nesyri, who slotted it cleanly past Aragoneses. It wasn't a flashy play; it was just efficient. A reminder of how thin the margins can be.
Laurence didn't raise his voice. Instead, he calmly gestured for everyone to settle down, signaling to Kante to hold his ground instead of chasing after the ball. The rest of the half saw Tenerife trying to regain control, but they struggled to pick up the pace in the final third.
When halftime rolled around, the dressing room was eerily quiet.
"We're hurrying the first pass," Laurence said in a steady tone. "Take a moment to look at your options before you play it. If it's not there, recycle the ball. Make them work for it."
The second half showed slight improvement, but Sevilla still looked comfortable. Their second goal came from a set piece, a perfectly placed cross that was met with a powerful header. Two-nil. Manageable on paper, but tough to overcome in reality.
Neymar came on with twenty-five minutes to go. His initial touches were sharp, drawing fouls and keeping defenders on their toes. The tempo picked up a bit, but Sevilla quickly adapted, doubling up on him and tightening their defense. Tenerife managed to create a few half-chances—a deflected shot from Joel and a header from Koulibaly—but nothing that changed the score.
The match wrapped up at 2–0. It was a loss to a team that executed their game plan better that day.
In the dressing room afterward, players sat with towels draped over their shoulders, reflecting on the game. Laurence waited until the stadium noise faded into the background.
"Every team has its off days. Even the champions," he said, his gaze sweeping across the room. "But if we carry this fear into Old Trafford... we're already beaten."