"...Matchweek 26 in La Liga, Atlético Madrid systematically dismantle Granada two-nil. They climb to 49 points, completely erasing Valencia's lead..."
"...The relentless march of Diego Simeone's men continues. In the Europa League Round of 16 second leg, Shane Carter orchestrates another masterclass, dealing two assists to casually dispatch Besiktas two-nil in Istanbul. Atlético advance to the quarterfinals..."
"...UEFA headquarters in Nyon concludes the draws for the Champions League and Europa League. Atlético Madrid will face German powerhouse Schalke 04..."
Since conquering Barcelona at the Camp Nou, Atlético had locked into a ruthless, bloodthirsty winning streak.
They marched into the Europa League final eight without breaking a sweat.
Their designated victims: Schalke 04.
When the draw was announced, the American sports media actually felt a twinge of regret.
Just last season, Schalke 04 had a veteran United States Men's National Team international on their roster.
If he had stayed, this quarterfinal would have been a massively hyped "American Derby."
Unfortunately, before the season began, the USMNT veteran packed his bags and returned across the Atlantic.
In Germany, he had been relegated to the deepest depths of the bench, occasionally scraping a few garbage-time minutes as a makeshift wide midfielder.
In reality, his natural position was as a central playmaker.
But at Schalke 04?
The Number 10 position belonged to absolute royalty: Raúl González.
Even when Raúl needed a rest, the minutes went to the rising German international Lewis Holtby.
The American simply couldn't get on the pitch.
His departure was inevitable, especially with the dawn of the Major League Soccer "Designated Player" boom.
Massive American franchises like the LA Galaxy and Seattle Sounders were throwing around astronomical contracts to lure USMNT stars back home.
In the pre-DP era, an American international might have stayed in Europe to grind it out for prestige.
But the math had changed.
At Schalke, the veteran was making around €500,000 after taxes.
Back in the MLS, as a franchise centerpiece, he could instantly secure a multi-million dollar Designated Player contract.
Double the money, guaranteed starting minutes, and returning home as a king.
For a professional athlete with a brutally short earning window, choosing the MLS bag over rotting on a Bundesliga bench was the only logical decision.
For Atlético Madrid, European glory was enticing, but securing Champions League qualification via La Liga remained the absolute priority.
In the three league matches leading up to the Schalke clash, Simeone deployed his absolute strongest XI.
They battered Athletic Bilbao 2-1 at home.
They ground out a bloody 1-1 draw away at Mallorca.
They executed Zaragoza 2-1 at the Calderón.
After 29 rounds of La Liga warfare, Atlético Madrid sat at 56 points.
Riding an unstoppable wave of momentum, they had finally broken Unai Emery's Valencia, opening up a commanding 5-point gap to claim 3rd place outright.
And at the dead center of this revolution was Shane Carter.
After 29 rounds, the eighteen-year-old's statistical output was terrifying.
Twelve assists. Nine goals.
He was just one goal shy of a double-double season.
And the most psychotic part?
He had only made his senior debut in Matchweek 17.
In just 13 league appearances, he had directly contributed to 21 goals.
These were numbers that made European scouts physically sick.
With 12 assists, Carter had violently leapfrogged Real Madrid's premier playmakers, Ángel Di María and Mesut Özil.
He sat in second place on the La Liga assist charts, trailing only Lionel Messi (14).
In total goal contributions, he ranked third in the entire league.
Messi was having an alien season: 39 goals and 14 assists.
Cristiano Ronaldo was right behind him: 33 goals and 7 assists.
The two greatest players in human history existed in a completely separate stratosphere.
But sitting in third place was a teenager from the United States with 21 goal contributions. And if the metrics were calculated from the moment Carter actually stepped onto the pitch in Matchweek 17, his efficiency per-minute was completely rivaling the two aliens.
The European quarterfinals loomed.
In the Champions League, the heavyweight clash of the round was undeniably AC Milan against Barcelona.
The other ties felt like foregone conclusions, heavily tilted toward the traditional aristocrats.
Real Madrid vs. APOEL Nicosia.
Chelsea vs. Benfica.
Bayern Munich vs. Marseille.
Barring a total collapse, Real Madrid, Chelsea, and Bayern had practically been spoon-fed tickets to the semifinals.
In the Europa League, La Liga had thoroughly conquered the bracket with three Spanish teams in the final eight: Valencia, Atlético Madrid, and Athletic Bilbao.
Valencia drew AZ Alkmaar.
Bilbao drew Hannover 96.
Atlético drew Schalke 04.
Simeone knew the Germans would be a nightmare.
After 26 rounds in the Bundesliga, Schalke sat securely in 3rd place with 53 points.
They were 11 points behind Jürgen Klopp's surging Borussia Dortmund and 4 points behind Bayern Munich.
The title was out of reach, but their Champions League qualification was effectively bulletproof—they were 15 points clear of 5th place.
With their domestic league secured and having been knocked out of the German Cup, Schalke had only one remaining objective for the season.
Win the Europa League.
They brought their absolute strongest squad to Madrid. They had not flown to Spain to be tourists.
When Schalke touched down at Barajas Airport, the Madrid press corps descended like a pack of starving wolves.
But they weren't there for the German club.
They were there for one man.
"Raúl! Raúl! How does it feel to return to your city?"
"Will you visit the Valdebebas training ground to see your old teammates?"
"Does playing at the Calderón give you extra motivation?"
The reporters swarmed him.
El Gran Capitán. The Prince of Madrid. The Lord of the Rings.
Raúl was the sole Spanish icon of the original Galácticos, and his status as a deity in the Spanish capital was undisputed.
When José Mourinho took power at Real Madrid, his very first executive order was to ruthlessly exile Raúl from the dressing room.
Mourinho was an egomaniac, and he knew that as long as Raúl breathed the air in the Bernabéu, the captain would hold more power over the players than the manager.
To seize absolute control of the locker room, Mourinho used the aging legend to make a brutal, undeniable example to the rest of the squad.
The man who was destined to retire a one-club legend was forced to pack his bags and move to Germany.
It was a bleeding wound in the hearts of Real Madrid fans.
Now, Raúl was back in his city, completely eclipsing his own manager, Huub Stevens, who the Spanish press ignored entirely.
"Returning to Madrid is always a special feeling," Raúl smiled politely. "As for the match at the Calderón, we will give absolutely everything to eliminate Atlético."
"Who do you view as the ultimate threat in this Atlético side?" a reporter shouted.
"Do you even have to ask?" Raúl chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "It's Carter, of course."
Before boarding the flight to Madrid, Raúl had called his old teammate, Iker Casillas.
Casillas had personally felt the wrath of the American teenager, picking the ball out of his own net three times in the Madrid Derby.
The Real Madrid captain's voice had been dead serious.
"You have to watch out for the American. He is lethal."
Raúl knew the psychology of Real Madrid players better than anyone.
Especially a legendary goalkeeper like Casillas. They were men built on pure, unshakeable arrogance.
If a player had managed to install genuine fear into the heart of Iker Casillas.
He was absolutely not a kid to be taken lightly.
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