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In La Liga Round 25, Atlético Madrid drew 0-0 with Villarreal.
Their winning streak, which hadn't lasted many games, was interrupted again.
Lance sat in the stands, feeling a bit helpless.
He had just returned from Genk, where he led his team to a 3-0 victory, securing a significant advantage in the Champions League knockout stage.
Just two days later, on Friday night, it was time for a La Liga match.
The packed schedule forced Atlético Madrid to field a reserve squad.
Before the match, Lance specifically drank a can of [Regular Red Bull], intending to recover his physical strength for continuous play.
But he was sent to the ban list by the medical team.
"Your indicators do not meet the participation standards, and the risk of injury has increased significantly. I'm sorry, Lance."
Simeone also knew that the league was at a critical juncture, and every point was crucial.
But he couldn't risk player injuries by forcing the main lineup.
Simeone wasn't that short-sighted.
"There are still the Copa del Rey and the second leg of the Champions League, as well as crucial matches later on. I can't gamble with your career; we can't afford to lose."
Since Simeone was so insistent, Lance didn't argue with him.
In any team, the manager holds absolute authority.
As a professional player, even with disagreements, one should not challenge the manager's authority.
Lance understood this very well.
The key characteristic of a successful championship-winning team is unity, where the manager and players, everyone, works towards a common goal.
Teams with star players who overshadow their coaches may seem individualistic and attention-grabbing, and going against the coach might appear cool and satisfying.
In reality, such teams often meet a tragic end, becoming a laughingstock for others.
So, after his communication with Simeone yielded no results, Lance didn't press the issue further and sat in the stands to cheer for the team.
Unfortunately, Villarreal was not a weak team.
Atlético Madrid, with its reserve squad, could only stabilise its defence, with no offensive solutions. Both sides drew a blank, and the 90-minute match was about to end.
Atlético Madrid securing one point from a draw was a foregone conclusion.
He picked up his phone to check the live La Liga standings.
Atlético Madrid still held the 3rd position.
"It's over!"
Griezmann, also sitting in the stands next to Lance, looked pale.
"If Real Madrid and Barcelona win, we'll be six points behind. How are we going to catch up?"
"Relax. Theoretically, a six-point gap can be closed in the last three rounds."
"Lance, you're so optimistic."
In reality, Lance was just comforting Griezmann.
If there was a six-point difference in the last three rounds, with Barcelona's stability, Atlético Madrid wouldn't stand a chance.
"I'm a Málaga fan who's been hiding for 20 years! Málaga will win!"
In the row behind, Saúl nervously held his phone, watching another match.
Málaga vs Real Madrid.
Next to Saúl sat Torres, who initially watched his team's match with composure.
Lance and Griezmann whispered, "As expected of Fernando Torres, someone who has experienced big occasions is calm."
Griezmann nodded:
"Fernando Torres is like that. He's won the World Cup, the European Championship, the Champions League... nothing can make him nervous."
Everyone in the team liked Torres very much.
If Lance was the soul of Atlético Madrid, Torres was the team's stabilising force.
The two of them were about to praise Torres when, they turned their heads and saw Torres's eyes occasionally drifting towards Saúl's phone, his nervous expression already betraying his inner feelings.
"Pfft."
Griezmann almost couldn't hold it in.
How could his idol be so contradictory?
Torres was more nervous now than he was.
Discovering Lance and Griezmann peeking at him, Torres immediately sat up straight, his pale face flushing slightly.
Why are you blushing like a teapot!
After spending a long time with stars like Torres and Griezmann, one realises they are also real people.
Some traits might even be unacceptable to fans.
For example, Griezmann is usually an outgoing, sunny big boy, very likable.
But after training and playing with him every day, Lance realised something.
Brother Griezmann is a show-off and a pressure freak.
Every time he scores a brilliant goal, he loves to brag to his teammates.
"See, the team really has to rely on me!"
If a teammate made a mistake, Griezmann couldn't help but make a few snarky remarks:
"Why didn't you pass just now? Are you an idiot? Am I the only one trying my best?"
In short, sometimes this guy was so annoying that Lance couldn't help but want to hit him.
Most of the time, Griezmann was still a normal person.
Especially after Lance joined the team and won over everyone with his performance, Griezmann toned it down a lot and rarely showed off in front of Lance.
As for Torres, he was an old man nearing 32, sometimes as innocent as a big boy.
Perhaps the frequent injuries during his low period in the Premier League left him with psychological trauma.
Lance often saw him in the changing room, silently shrinking into a corner, lost in thought.
His teammates wanted to comfort him but didn't know how to start.
He kept everything to himself and didn't communicate with his teammates.
Today's match ended 0-0. If Barcelona and Real Madrid really pulled ahead in points, Torres would definitely blame himself silently again.
Living with these star players day in and day out, Lance had long been disenchanted with the idea of 'stars'.
Everyone is primarily an ordinary person, and only secondarily a glamorous superstar.
"Fernando Torres, just watch if you want to. We won't say anything."
"That's right... Pfft, I won't laugh at you."
"Damn it, you two!" Torres broke down, almost kicking them.
"He's getting agitated, he's getting agitated!"
"Hey, hey, hey! Nice! Málaga—"
Saúl let out a yell.
Lance and Griezmann immediately climbed over and sat in the back row, and Torres also quickly crowded over.
Their four heads were almost touching, and everyone's attention was on the small 4.7-inch screen of the iPhone 6.
Málaga scored in the 4th minute, leading Real Madrid 1-0!
The Atlético Madrid stars laughed happily like children, celebrating in the stands.
Fortunately, the match had already ended, and the live cameras were focused on the players and coaches on the pitch.
Otherwise, if fans watching on TV saw the ridiculous sight of several superstars "dancing like demons," who knows how many fans' hearts would shatter.
"Málaga is awesome!"
"Lance, what does 'niu bi' mean?"
"It means very impressive."
"I see... Málaga 'niu bi'! Málaga... what was it again?"
Torres mimicked Lance's tone and shouted, forgetting halfway through.
"Forget it, it's nothing."
The Atlético Madrid match ended.
Simeone sent a group message, notifying everyone to return to the changing room for a meeting.
The four of them left the stands, almost sticking together the whole way, watching Saúl's phone screen.
They almost crashed into the corridor wall.
"Wait." Saúl suddenly looked up.
"What's wrong?" The others looked puzzled.
"Don't... none of you have phones?"
"..."
Lance, Griezmann, and Torres only then realised.
Ah!
Lance slapped his forehead and sighed lightly:
"Being with you for so long, I feel like my IQ is slowly disappearing too."
"Bastard!"
Saúl furiously kicked out, which Lance skilfully dodged.
Five minutes later, Simeone, with a serious expression, was about to hold a brief post-match meeting for the players.
But then the changing room door was pushed open.
Four main players, each clutching a phone, burst in like internet-addicted teenagers.
This caused Simeone's brain to freeze a bit; the carefully prepared words were disrupted.
The "Bandit Coach" Simeone was both annoyed and amused:
"What are you doing?"
"Coach, Málaga scored!"
"I know." Simeone was very calm.
The next second, the commentator's excited roar came from the phone.
Saúl was almost in tears.
"Coach... Real Madrid also scored."
"Fuck!"
Simeone was no longer calm now.
There was a collective wail in the Atlético Madrid changing room.
"Ah ah ah ah ah!"
"Damn it! Is God also making things difficult for us?"
"Málaga is so weak!"
Simeone was completely speechless at the sight.
He silently turned on the TV in the home team's changing room.
Reviewing the match?
Reviewing nothing!
Everyone's attention was on this other match.
At this moment, every Atlético Madrid player was a Málaga fan!
...
90 minutes later, the Atlético Madrid players, who had been cursing Málaga the entire match, shouted that phrase again.
"Málaga is awesome!"
"¡Hala Málaga!"
They were even happier than if they had won themselves.
La Liga Round 25 focus match:
Málaga 1-1 Real Madrid!
Madrid's two city rivals still had the same points, ranking 2nd and 3rd respectively.
Immediately after, no one left.
Everyone tacitly stayed in the changing room, continuing to watch the next match.
Las Palmas vs Barcelona.
"I am now a Las Palmas fan!"
Saúl's expression was as resolute as if he were joining a party.
"Huh? You change so quickly!"
Lance couldn't help but retort.
Looking at the other Atlético Madrid players, their expressions gradually became similar to Saúl's.
Griezmann whispered beside him:
"God, please let Messi get injured, Suárez break his leg, and Neymar never score..."
"Griezmann, that's too mean!" Lance was embarrassed.
"Look at Fernando Torres, just watch the game with a calm mind."
But when he turned his head, he saw Torres sitting upright in his chair, intently staring at the TV, muttering something.
Lance secretly leant closer to hear clearly:
"Las Palmas! Las Palmas! Las, Palmas!"
"It's so awkward to say, just stop!"
Lance again slapped his forehead and sighed inwardly.
Who understands? My Atlético Madrid teammates are all extraordinary.