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"Quick! Quick!"
"Vamos! Vamos!!"
"Stop for a moment. Iniesta, Rakitić, Sergio, Messi, you four come here."
La Masia training base.
Luis Enrique hurriedly called over Barcelona's midfield trio and the team's soul, Messi.
"The passing just now was still a bit slow. It's very difficult to break through Atlético's defense like this."
"Coach... Atlético is missing Godín, so do we really need to be this cautious?"
Rakitić couldn't help but ask.
"Are you very proud of yourself?"
Luis Enrique glanced at Rakitić.
It was this guy's tackle that took out Atlético's defensive general, Godín. Rakitić is usually a simple, low-key, and introverted young man; how could he be so pleased with himself after injuring someone? How can he become a midfield master with that kind of mentality?
He was originally brought in to replace Xavi, yet it seems Xavi's successor still cannot be found. If Xavi were here, Barcelona would be able to beat Atlético with absolute certainty — even if Lance exploded in form, it would make no difference.
Unfortunately, Xavi had been injured consistently and barely played a few times this season. He would likely retire in under two years.
Rakitić is solid defensively, but he cannot fill Xavi's role on the offensive end. The others are even worse.
If Neymar leaves when the time comes, the whole team will have only Messi to rely on.
Luis Enrique increasingly feels that submitting a resignation letter is the wise choice. Regardless of whether they win the championship this season, he does not intend to stay at Barcelona. Just like a dynasty on the verge of collapse, no matter how hard you try, it cannot be saved. It can only be torn down and rebuilt.
Luis Enrique can even assert that for at least the next ten years, it will be very difficult for Barcelona to win the Champions League.
"At least, let's win a Copa del Rey before leaving, right?"
They had just missed the league title two days ago and were eliminated from the Champions League by Atlético as well. If they don't even take the Copa del Rey...
Luis Enrique feels he could put on a red nose and go to Gotham City to fight Batman.
The players in front of him were still staring, so Luis Enrique collected his thoughts.
To be honest, being backed into a corner by Lance, he had recently spent a lot of time working out how to deal with Atlético. "Continue executing what I told you last time. Run more, and be more decisive with the high press! Your movement today is still too lax."
Luis Enrique called the whole team to the sideline, had the assistant coach pull out a tactical whiteboard, and laid it all out in detail on the spot.
There is less than a week until the Copa del Rey Final. Last-minute cramming might not be the most effective approach, but this tactic follows Barcelona's system, a routine the players have run for years, so adapting won't be too difficult.
"Suárez, your role is very important. Constantly drop back, move like this, and then like this..."
Suárez's position was originally up front, supporting Messi in building plays or poaching at the edge of the box. The new tactics have him constantly pulling back to occupy a false nine position. This creates more space for Messi and Neymar to cut into the half-spaces, and Suárez dropping deep also creates a numerical advantage in the frontcourt, forming a more threatening high press against Atlético.
With Godín absent, Atlético has lost its backbone and is even more vulnerable to this kind of intense pressing. Barcelona will be able to pin them firmly in their own half.
Suárez, normally responsible for goals, might get fewer scoring opportunities this way, but Messi and Neymar's shooting is more than capable of making up for it. Messi receiving a through ball from Suárez and finishing with his left foot might be even more dangerous.
While talking through the shape and running the drills, Barcelona continued to sharpen the new tactics. They played out some genuinely beautiful attacks. When Messi scored with a left-footed curling shot, Luis Enrique nodded with satisfaction and gave a thumbs up to the players on the field.
"Yes, that's it!"
The Barcelona players are among the best in the world; they had already begun to realize Luis Enrique's vision. Suárez, Messi, Neymar — none of them is the fixed core of the front line, but any one of them could be the core at any given moment. Messi can also play the supporting role, creating opportunities for teammates.
This kind of fluid, interchangeable movement in the frontcourt, combined with suffocating high pressing, is perfectly suited for dismantling a counter-attacking side like Atlético.
"Lance, if it's like this, can you still break it?"
Luis Enrique couldn't help but think of Atlético's teenage forward. An 18-year-old football monster. What kind of expression will he have when he runs into Barcelona's new system?
"Take a five-minute break!"
Madrid. On the Atlético training ground, the players were also preparing hard for the final.
Compared to the grim focus of the Barcelona camp, Atlético was clearly still riding the high of clinching La Liga. Everyone was beaming, and the atmosphere was relaxed and loose.
The opponent is Barcelona, whom they have beaten four times in a row this season. This will be the fifth meeting. Atlético had no psychological burden whatsoever. The players had already started discussing the Champions League Final, barely giving the Copa del Rey a second thought.
"Let's focus on the Copa del Rey."
"Relax, Lance. It's just Barcelona; their mentality has already collapsed."
Saúl said dismissively.
Even Griezmann and Torres weren't especially worried, which made Lance look a little older than his years by comparison.
Lance had no choice but to look over at Simeone. Inside the training ground, only Simeone and the coaching staff had kept the celebrations off their faces.
It seemed the coach still had real respect for Barcelona. The teammates, on the other hand, were getting overconfident. That was not a good sign.
Training ended for the day. Teammates drifted off home one by one, tired and laughing.
Lance stayed behind to work on his free kicks.
He had mastered the muscle memory of [David Beckham], but since it is not a fusion of an S-rank template, the muscle memory cannot fully replicate Beckham's ability at full fidelity. Lance needs to keep reinforcing it through countless repetitions. Only then can he truly own it and bring the real "Crescent Blade" onto the field.
"Lance, still doing extra training."
Simeone had long grown used to seeing it.
"Yeah... Coach, is everyone's attitude really okay?"
Lance couldn't help but voice the concern he'd been holding back.
But he is not the captain, just the attacking core of the front line. If he stood up and played veteran, lecturing everyone on their mindset, the Atlético players would nod along to his face. What they thought privately, Lance couldn't be sure.
Everyone is a real person, not an NPC in a story. Everyone has emotions, desires, jealousy, and resentment. That is unavoidable.
As long as Lance leads the team to wins, things stay harmonious. The moment results drop, the cracks will start to show. Lance is not naive enough to be that killjoy, and he is not going to be the one to stick his neck out. For something like this, the coach takes the lead. That is literally what coaches are paid for.
"Lance, honestly, don't let how people act around me fool you. There aren't that many who truly listen."
After winning La Liga, some people at Atlético had let it go to their heads. With the media worldwide hyping them up, even if the coach stepped in and said something, it would only go so far. Simeone can tighten team discipline and maintain training standards, but what goes on inside a player's head on matchday is their own business.
"What if the Copa del Rey Final..."
Lance didn't finish the sentence.
Both of them are smart enough. Those who understand, understand.
Some of his teammates didn't rate the Copa del Rey at all. If they lost the final because of it, would Simeone just sit back and let it happen?
Lance had expected him to call a meeting, give the squad a firm talking-to. He hadn't expected Simeone to be this cold-blooded about it.
"All I can say is, if someone doesn't want to win the championship, they don't deserve to win it. Losing this one might just be the lesson they need."
Lance stared at him for a moment.
No, seriously? It's a championship. I want the treble. If my teammates don't care, I do.
Simeone caught the hunger in his eyes and smiled slightly.
"So, the final is going to need you to carry more. Like that line from Spider-Man, with great power..."
He left the sentence hanging, smiled faintly, and turned to walk away.
Lance was left standing alone on the training ground, one foot on the ball, staring into space.
"Damn it. This old fox."
He is exactly like an unscrupulous manager, finding the one person who can be relied on and squeezing them for everything. You want to win the championship? Then it's on you. With great power comes great responsibility.
Simeone's real prize is the Champions League. If sacrificing the Copa del Rey meant winning in Europe, he could live with that.
Lance cannot. This is the closest he has come to the treble.
Missing it last season still sits with him as a regret.
Admittedly, if he keeps playing in this world, there will be other seasons, other chances. If La Liga doesn't deliver, there is always the Premier League. With the world's highest transfer value and every giant club ready to fight for his signature, Lance is not worried about building a Galácticos squad one day.
The treble will come. But why not this year?
"Copa del Rey, right? I haven't won it yet. Shouldn't I get my hands on it before I leave La Liga?"
Bang.
A high-quality "Crescent Blade," carrying Lance's obsession with winning, buried itself in the net.