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"Lance! El Mejor!"
"Lance! El Mejor!"
"Lance! El Mejor!"
"Lance! King of Football!"
"Lance! King of Football!"
Nearly 60,000 voices merged into one, forming a shockwave that soared into the sky.
What kind of shock was this? Anyone who watched the match live could feel the tingling sensation on their scalp.
Duan Xuan felt it most deeply. Previously in a studio thousands of miles away, he had been excited behind a screen. But only at the ground could one truly experience this unparalleled, immersive atmosphere.
Duan Xuan's pride reached its peak at this moment.
"Listen to the Wanda Metropolitano! Everyone is calling out Lance's name!"
...
Atlético Madrid 2–0 Barcelona.
Only 27 minutes into the first half.
Watching Lance leap and celebrate passionately on the sidelines, Messi felt his heart shatter for a moment.
He couldn't understand. Why? Why, after so many years as a professional, standing just one step away from being football's GOAT, was he being surpassed by this kid?
What was the point of all those years going back and forth with Cristiano Ronaldo?
It was like two legendary swordsmen locked in an evenly matched duel, when suddenly an unknown kid popped out, pulled out a musket, fired two shots, took both of them down, and blew the smoke off the muzzle.
"Sir, the times have changed."
Messi even doubted whether there was any need to keep struggling. Wouldn't it be better to just coast, slack off, and make money? Earn a few hundred million dollars and retire. Why tire himself out running on the field?
Just as Messi was lost in thought, Suárez and Neymar looked at each other and approached him.
"Leo, are you okay?"
"Sorry, we didn't perform well."
Suárez actually apologized, even though he hadn't done anything wrong.
Piqué, Alves, Busquets, and others gathered around Messi, patting his back to comfort him.
"Brother, we need you to hold on."
Iniesta said with a faint smile. As a World Cup champion, the Spanish hero who scored the winning goal in the final, the core of the sextuple-winning side, the pillar of Barcelona after Xavi, Iniesta had a very steady mentality. Nothing could knock him down.
Seeing Messi's eyes slightly unfocused, Iniesta calmly leaned over to comfort his teammate.
In an instant, Messi quickly regained his usual composure and confidence.
"Right. Remember to give the ball to me."
Messi was not the flamboyant type like Cristiano Ronaldo. That was all he said before turning back to his position, leaving only the number 10 on his back.
The other Barcelona players knew it well. Greatness needs no words. As long as Messi hadn't admitted defeat, Barcelona could maintain its fighting power.
...
The match restarted. Barcelona used the kickoff to control the ball, passing it back and forth through midfield and defense.
Atlético Madrid wasn't in a hurry to press. They maintained a low block, creating an impenetrable wall near the 30-meter zone and allowing Barcelona to keep possession.
Both sides appeared calm, but currents were surging beneath the surface.
Lance, with one goal and one assist, keenly noticed that Barcelona had not only kept its fighting power but seemed even more cohesive than before. Most players might have panicked at that, but Lance just curled his lips.
"Interesting. This is the real Barcelona."
Whether playing against Barcelona or Real Madrid, surrendering too early always left a feeling of emptiness. It was the same against Manchester City — they had resisted fiercely early on before fading in the second half. Barcelona deserved to be dealt with more seriously.
Otherwise, they wouldn't be worthy of being Lance's opponent.
"Wait a minute, this is a bit too strong, right?"
After a few minutes of passing, the Barcelona players seemed to have recovered their confidence, with everyone actively moving and creating space. Core midfielders like Iniesta and Busquets were no longer content to sit still and began testing the vulnerabilities in Atlético Madrid's defense.
The situation looked dull on the surface, but underneath it was surging. Those who didn't understand football might have grown sleepy, but those who did were already sitting up straight.
Simeone, who had been smiling easily, stood up from his seat at this moment, frowning with his arms crossed. He could see that Barcelona were playing with real structure. Their passing was smooth and fluid, completely free of panic. It had the faint air of the invincible sextuple-winning side at its peak.
Even without Xavi, veterans like Busquets and Iniesta, alongside Rakitić, were combining beautifully.
Duan Xuan's tone was no longer as relaxed as before. He turned serious.
Atlético Madrid tried to press higher to create pressure, but Barcelona were unhurried, transitioning from the front court to the back and playing it all the way to goalkeeper Ter Stegen.
"Back! Back!"
Captain Godín sensed something was wrong and quickly called his teammates to drop the formation, wary of being pulled apart by Barcelona.
Lance also gestured to his teammates, waving for Griezmann to drop back and help defend.
The disciplined Atlético Madrid unit soon retreated to the front of the penalty area, forming an impassable wall and giving the opposition nothing.
"Ter Stegen gives it to Alba. Alba to Busquets. Messi — Atlético are marking Messi very tightly. Good, back to Alves."
Messi dropped back to the center circle, playing the ball out under a triple-team. It looked like an impossible wall to break.
Atlético's shape stayed tight as they continued to drop. Alves switched it horizontally to the left back, and Alba played a one-touch to Busquets.
"Rakitić, Iniesta, Rakitić, Busquets, Messi, Rakitić, Iniesta..."
Duan Xuan was listing them like a menu, calling out the players on the ball one by one. It showed just how fluid the passing cycle had become.
Lance stayed sharp. He realised Barcelona were trying to work it to Neymar on the left, and that combination with Suárez would be dangerous.
He quickly shifted over to help his teammates cover the flank.
Sure enough, Iniesta threaded a pass through the crowd to Neymar. Neymar might not have had the same status as Messi, but with the ball at his feet, the anxiety he caused was no less.
"Neymar, stepping over, trying to get through. Juanfran is doing well, staying tight. Iniesta comes to support, back-heels it to Busquets..."
With Barcelona making noise on the left, all of Atlético were pulled across to that side, pressing in numbers.
Up to this point, both sides were perfectly matched, producing a level of offense and defense that had football analysts leaning forward in their seats.
Rakitić had the ball. Lance tried to use Muscle Memory to close in and disrupt the pass. But Barcelona's players were too tightly packed, and his tackle was picked up cleanly by Busquets, who played it straight to Iniesta.
Lance, still on the ground, suddenly felt something was wrong. It was too late to recover.
Iniesta faked a pass to the left, shifted the defensive shape, then turned and played a diagonal ball to the right side of the penalty area.
"Messi!!!"
Messi receiving the ball was Barcelona's signal. The nearly 20 passes before it had all been building to this single moment.
"Messi! Dribbling, cutting inside! One against two! He's through! Messi, Messi!!!"
"Messi, Messi, Messi, Messi..."
Compared to Duan Xuan's commentary, the Catalan commentator beside him was even more frantic, Messi's name the only word out of his mouth.
Everyone witnessed Messi showing why he was the best in the world. With his unparalleled stride frequency and change-of-pace rhythm, even a four-man press couldn't stop him.
Cutting inside and evading Gabi and David Luiz's challenges, he dribbled horizontally before suddenly lunging forward. Godín didn't even have time to stick a leg out. Giménez stretched his foot and appeared to catch Messi, and for a moment he panicked at the thought of a penalty.
But while almost falling, Messi somehow stayed on his feet and scooped the ball up from in front of Suárez to curl out an arc. He completed a tricky shot in the very moment he was going down.
It caught Suárez so completely off guard that he froze, standing in the penalty area like a goalpost.
The rest of Atlético were stunned.
Goalkeeper Oblak's heart tightened and he threw himself into the save.
"Too late," Lance thought to himself.
He had seen this goal before. It was one of Messi's iconic moments, and now Atlético Madrid had become the backdrop.
The ball drew an arc that had no answer and slammed off the post into the net. Oblak landed heavily on the ground just after it crossed the line.
"Goooooal!!! Messi!!!"
"He stayed up!!! What a goal!!!"
The commentators in the media box erupted in different tones.
Barcelona, in a desperate position, had stubbornly pulled one back.
2–1.
The Wanda Metropolitano was back in suspense. The home stands groaned, while the visiting Barcelona section exploded.
"Is this Messi?"
Before this, Lance's unbeaten record against Messi had made him quietly underestimate the man. Now it was clear — the reason Messi stood among the very best was that you simply could not afford to take him lightly. If you did, you would suffer for it.
After scoring, Messi sprinted to the sidelines and turned to embrace his teammates. The Barcelona players ran wildly to celebrate, as if releasing something that had been bottled up inside them. This goal had cost them everything to produce.
Messi was Barcelona's guardian. Whenever a crisis arrived, he stood up.
Just like he had said earlier.
"Remember to give the ball to me."
He did it.
"Interesting."
Lance felt something like a villain's thrill watching Messi score. In a battle between the very best, Messi had not given up.
When Messi and his teammates walked back to the center circle after the celebration, a photographer on the sideline captured something that would become iconic.
Lance and Messi locked eyes from a few metres away. The tension between them was palpable.
"King of Football vs. King of Football."
That photo would spread across the internet after the final whistle. Today was a peak duel between kings.