Over the next two days, Juninho D'Alessandro traveled all over the northwest of England, placing bets in every county he could reach.
He visited three to four betting shops per area, carefully staggering his wagers to avoid suspicion. The betting amounts varied, but each ranged from €200,000 to €300,000.
And every single bet?
Real Madrid to beat Valencia 3–0.
Each time he placed a bet, Juninho took out a small leather-bound notebook and recorded the exact location and date of the shop.
"Don't want to forget where I put a few million euros," he muttered. "That would be tragic."
With all his bets placed, Juninho returned to the Morecambe training ground, sat down in his office, and powered up the club's desktop computer.
The 2000 UEFA Champions League Final would kick off at 2:00 p.m. local time.
Juninho was already at his desk when the match broadcast began. His heart pounded slightly—not out of fear, but out of the sheer weight of what was on the line.
He knew the final score by heart. He remembered it vividly.
But still… what if something changed?
This was, after all, his first big play using knowledge from the future.
He couldn't help feeling a sliver of unease.
Then the referee blew the whistle.
The match had begun.
---
As the lineups appeared onscreen, Juninho smiled as familiar names lit up the screen:
Raúl, Salgado, Roberto Carlos, Redondo, Anelka, young Casillas in goal.
Real Madrid's side wasn't yet the Galácticos 2.0, but it was still loaded with talent.
Compared to them, Valencia looked far less threatening. Juninho could barely recognize any of their starters. No standout stars, no real bite.
As long as Madrid played like they should, he had nothing to worry about.
---
The match got underway.
The early minutes were a bit of a feeling-out phase, with both sides cautious.
But soon, Madrid began to dominate. They held the ball for long spells, their players weaving intricate passes through midfield.
Some even began showing off, flicking and feinting through Valencia's press.
The Spanish underdogs looked completely overwhelmed.
When the clock hit 39 minutes, it finally happened.
Madrid earned a free kick just outside the box, which caused chaos inside Valencia's penalty area.
Morientes rose above the crowd and smashed a header into the net!
1–0!
"YES!" Juninho jumped out of his chair, pumping his fist.
Perfect. Just like I remembered it.
Madrid took their lead into halftime. There were no more big chances before the whistle.
---
The second half kicked off, and Madrid wasted no time regaining control.
Valencia mounted a few dangerous counterattacks, but Casillas held firm.
Then, in the 67th minute, lightning struck again.
A poor Valencia clearance fell straight to Steve McManaman, who was lurking outside the box.
He struck it clean—a beautiful volley into the bottom corner.
2–0.
Juninho roared with excitement, practically vibrating in his seat.
"This is it! The timing, the goals… it's all happening exactly like I remember!"
He knew what was next.
If memory served, in just under ten minutes, Raúl would score one of the most iconic counterattack goals in Champions League history.
And sure enough, in the 75th minute, it happened.
Valencia's attack broke down in Madrid's half. The fullback launched a long clearance toward the front.
Raúl timed his run perfectly.
With Valencia caught out and no defenders left behind, he found himself charging into open space.
He raced into the box, danced past the keeper with a slick feint, and slotted the ball into the net from a tight angle.
3–0.
Juninho couldn't contain himself. He leapt onto his chair, fists pumping in the air.
"SEVENTY-FIVE MILLION EUROS, HERE I COME!!"
It felt surreal—like winning the lottery with insider knowledge.
"Fifteen minutes left… just hold the line! No more goals, and I'm golden!"
---
The final moments ticked by slowly. Too slowly.
Each minute felt like an hour.
Juninho stared at the screen, fists clenched so tightly they turned white.
Even in stoppage time, when the ball pinged around nervously near Madrid's goal, he barely breathed.
And then—it was over.
Full-time: Real Madrid 3, Valencia 0.
The exact result from Juninho's past life.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaled deeply, and felt the last of the tension melt away.
The thrill and anxiety were gone, replaced by cold, focused excitement.
He had done it.
The €75 million transfer war chest was virtually secured.
---
He stared at the ceiling, grinning ear to ear.
Only one thing filled his mind now:
> "The funds are in place. It's time to go hunting."
Lionel Messi, Zlatan Ibrahimović, Ronaldinho, Nemanja Vidić…
You're all mine now.
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