There are games, and then there is El Clásico.
In Spain, the days leading up to October 26th felt like an endless drumroll.
The entire nation, no, the entire world buzzed, bracing for ninety minutes that would echo far beyond football.
Barcelona and Real Madrid… the game of giants, the fixture were sagas are made. Both were level on points at the top of La Liga, both were unbeaten, both were storming through Europe like hurricanes.
But on October 26th, something had to give.
At the Santiago Bernabéu, the administration was already at work as workers hoisted massive banners across the stands.
["REYES DE EUROPA" — Kings of Europe.]
The concrete giant called the Santiago Bernabeu, reborn in its latest renovation shimmered under floodlights. It was not just a stadium. It was a monument, a lion's den, a coliseum of elite gladiators.
The press? They buzzed like bees. They were hard at work, aggressively fanning the flames of the latest El Clasico.
