The week leading up to the first La Liga match against Real Sociedad had been a whirlwind. The training sessions were intense, Berizzo driving them harder than ever. But amidst the physical grind, there was an undercurrent of anticipation, a buzz that crackled through the squad. For Chidi, it was almost unbearable. He knew he was close, he could feel it.
Then came the day before the match. The team was gathered in the locker room after practice, the air thick with the scent of sweat and liniment. Berizzo, his face as stoic as ever, began to announce the starting lineup. Chidi's heart hammered against his ribs. Defender after defender, midfielder after midfielder, Berizzo listed the names. Finally, he reached the forwards. "...and on the left wing, Chidi Okeke."
A wave of disbelief washed over Chidi. He? Starting? In La Liga? He could barely breathe. A grin threatened to split his face, but he fought it back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Berizzo's eyes met his. A flicker, almost imperceptible, of something that might have been pride. "Your pace will be key, Chidi. Exploit their right flank."
The roar of the crowd was a physical force, a wave of sound crashing over Chidi as he stood in the tunnel, the scent of freshly cut grass and anticipation thick in the air. The La Liga season had officially begun. This was it. His first competitive match for Sevilla. The culmination of weeks of grueling training, of adapting to a new style, a new culture. The pressure was immense, a weight he felt in his chest, but beneath it, a thrill, a burning excitement.
He glanced at his teammates, a mix of veterans and ambitious youngsters. They were a team, a unit, and he, Chidi Okeke, was a part of it. He spotted Eduardo Berizzo, the coach, his expression as stoic as ever, but Chidi detected a flicker of something — perhaps a hint of pride? — in his eyes as he gave a final nod.
The referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the match against Real Sociedad. Chidi, positioned on the left wing, felt a surge of adrenaline. The opening minutes were a blur of frantic activity. Sociedad pressed high, their midfield suffocating, forcing Sevilla to play long balls. Chidi, however, managed to find a pocket of space, receiving a pass and taking on his marker, a seasoned defender named Zaldua. He used his pace, his quick feet, to beat Zaldua on the outside, delivering a cross that was unfortunately cleared by the Sociedad defense.
"¡Eso es, Chidi!" Marco, the left-back, shouted encouragement.
The game was a chess match, a tactical battle. Berizzo's instructions were clear: maintain possession, exploit the flanks, and capitalize on any defensive lapses. Chidi tried to adhere to the plan, but Sociedad's defense was well-organized, their midfield relentless.
Then, in the 35th minute, came the breakthrough. A beautifully weighted pass from the center-midfielder found Chidi on the left wing. He controlled it with a deft touch, took on Zaldua again, and this time, instead of crossing, he cut inside, unleashing a curling shot towards the far post. The ball swerved, dipping just under the crossbar, beyond the reach of the diving goalkeeper.
The stadium erupted. The Sevilla fans, a sea of red and white, went wild. Chidi was mobbed by his teammates, a mixture of elation and disbelief washing over him. He had scored his first La Liga goal. A goal that put Sevilla ahead.
Berizzo, on the sidelines, allowed a rare smile to grace his lips.
The second half was a test of resilience. Sociedad, spurred on by the goal, launched wave after wave of attack. Their forwards were relentless, their midfield creative. Sevilla, however, defended resolutely, their backline holding firm. Chidi, though fatigued, continued to track back, helping out defensively, his determination unwavering.
In the dying minutes, Sociedad won a free kick just outside the box. The tension was palpable. The crowd held its breath. The free kick was taken, a powerful shot that seemed destined for the net. But the Sevilla goalkeeper, with a miraculous save, tipped the ball over the bar.
The final whistle blew. Sevilla had won.
The stadium exploded again, this time with a symphony of cheers and applause. Chidi, exhausted but exhilarated, was embraced by his teammates. He had played a crucial role in the victory. He had proven himself. As he walked off the pitch, the roar of the crowd still ringing in his ears, he knew this was just the beginning. The journey had just begun. He had a long way to go, but he was finally here, in La Liga, living his dream. And he knew, with a certainty that warmed him from the inside out, that he was ready for whatever came next.