"We've just about made it."
Noa bent over slightly as he rubbed the side of his head, still trying to recover his breath after what had somehow become the most stressful hotel check-in of all time. Dropping our bags off should've taken five minutes, but Noa had somehow managed to lose our room key before we'd even entered the room, argue with hotel staff over whether complimentary toothpaste was a human right, and nearly leave his passport at reception.
"Having to drop our bags off at the hotel almost made us late to the game."
"That wasn't the hotel's fault," I muttered as we pushed through a sea of fans dressed in red and white. "You spent ten minutes trying to flirt with the receptionist."
"She smiled at me."
"She smiled at everyone."
"That sounds like jealousy."
"That sounds like customer service."
Before Noa could defend himself further, the noise hit us like a physical force.
The roar of the PSV Eindhoven supporters erupted through the stadium before we had even fully stepped into the stands. Thousands of red and white flags waved violently throughout the arena, massive banners hung from railings, and chants echoed so loudly that I could feel the vibration through my chest.
The entire stadium felt alive.
Smoke from flares drifted into the air above the crowd while songs thundered across the PSV end with enough force to make the concrete beneath our feet tremble. I had played in loud environments before.
This was different.
This was football on a completely different level.
Noa looked like he was about to cry.
"This…"
He slowly turned in a circle, trying to absorb everything at once.
"This is the holy ground of PSV Eindhoven…"
He pointed dramatically toward the pitch.
"Where the world's best talents are GROWN!"
"You sound insane."
"I sound inspired."
The stadium screens lit up as the pre-match broadcast began.
A voice boomed through the speakers.
"I am your main commentator, Joeri Boomhof, alongside my commentary partner Michael List!"
The camera panned across the pitch as both sets of supporters roared louder.
"It is a wonderful night for football as two Dutch giants collide in the KNVB Cup Final!"
The screen flashed both crests.
PSV Eindhoven
Ajax
"PSV versus Ajax!"
The stadium exploded.
Then the players emerged from the tunnel.
The PSV Eindhoven fans somehow got even louder as music blasted throughout the stadium. Fireworks erupted near the stands while red smoke filled parts of the arena, making the entire walkout feel like something out of a war film.
I leaned forward as the players lined up.
Then the commentators spoke again.
"The three men to watch tonight all wear red and white."
A graphic appeared on screen.
First: Jay Beukers: Age: 16, Position: Midfielder, 10 assists in 8 games.
The camera showed a tall blond midfielder calmly adjusting his sleeves like he wasn't about to play in the biggest game of his life. He looked terrifyingly relaxed.
"The newest gem from the PSV Eindhoven academy, Jay Beukers has already been called one of Europe's brightest midfield prospects."
Noa leaned toward me.
Then the next player appeared.
Ryan Sickens: Age: 17, Position: Striker, 8 goals in 10 games.
The camera zoomed in on a dark-haired forward bouncing on his heels with a grin that looked borderline arrogant. He pointed toward the crowd and they responded like he was already a club legend.
"And beside him…"
The commentator's voice rose.
"Ryan Sickens. Seventeen years old and already tearing apart senior defenders."
Noa slowly sat down.
"Seventeen…"
His voice cracked slightly.
"He's even scarier than when we met him in public."
Then the final player appeared.
Kanao: Brazilian, Position: Right winger, The star of PSV.
The crowd roared at the sight of him.
"And finally…"
Michael List practically shouted into his microphone.
"PSV's superstar winger, Brazilian sensation Kanao starts tonight on the right wing!"
The camera showed Kanao smiling confidently before kissing the club badge on his shirt.
The referee blew his whistle.
Ryan tapped the ball backward.
Then immediately spun and sprinted forward.
Jay received possession for half a second before spraying a crisp diagonal pass out wide toward Kanao on the right wing. The ball travelled across the grass like it had been guided by string before landing perfectly at Kanao's feet.
The stadium rose to its feet instantly.
Ajax defender pressure came fast.
Then faster.
Sanderman, Ajax's explosive young attacker had dropped deep to press aggressively and charged toward Kanao like a missile, trying to pin him against the touchline before he could turn.
Sanderman leaned forward. "He's trapped."
Kanao was standing still.
One foot on the ball.
Sanderman launched himself in to steal it and Kanao casually flicked the ball over his outstretched leg.
The entire stadium gasped.
Sanderman completely missed.
Kanao spun around him in one fluid motion and accelerated into space while Sanderman stumbled past him, nearly falling onto the pitch.
"Ugh." Sanderman huffed.
The crowd erupted.
Noa screamed. "OH MY GOD."
I couldn't even speak.
Kanao pushed forward with terrifying speed as two Ajax midfielders scrambled to close him down. He lifted his head once and immediately spotted Ryan Sickens making a darting run between the centre-backs.
The pass came instantly.
Perfect.
Ryan was through.
Ajax reacted instantly.
The early shock from Kanao's flick had barely settled before their back line scrambled to reset, pushing up in a desperate attempt to compress the space that had already been torn open. The crowd noise shifted into something sharper now, less anticipation and more panic, as the ball dropped into a contested zone just outside the box.
Defender Boss stepped forward first.
He wasn't hesitating.
He read Ryan Sickens' touch and moved to intercept what he thought would be a simple control, planting himself in the path of the ball with the confidence of someone used to winning those duels at youth level and beyond. For a brief moment, it looked like Ajax had finally stopped the flow of danger.
Ryan, however, didn't even try to control it.
Instead, with one sharp movement of his boot, he flicked the ball cleanly upward, sending it spinning into the air like a controlled lob that immediately changed the entire geometry of the attack.
The stadium collectively rose again.
Boss froze.
That wasn't in his mind.
"Shit!" Boss barked, immediately turning as he realised he'd been pulled out of position, his voice cutting through the noise as panic crept in for the first time.
The ball hung for a split second, floating just inside the box as Ajax's defensive line scrambled backwards. Van De Berg, Ajax's fullback, tracked it immediately and launched himself upward to meet it, timing his jump perfectly to clear the danger before it could develop any further.
But Jay Beukers was already moving.
From the edge of the box, he exploded forward, reading the trajectory faster than everyone else on the pitch. The two of them met in the air almost simultaneously, bodies colliding as they both stretched toward the descending ball, the stadium noise cutting into a single unified roar as contact became inevitable.
"Mine!" Van De Berg shouted mid-jump, straining his neck toward the ball. "Clear it!"
For a moment, everything hung still.
His body twisted mid-air in a way that looked almost unnatural, his eyes locked on the falling ball as his entire posture changed from controlled athlete to something far more aggressive, almost instinctive. It was as if something inside him switched on.
Noa's voice cracked from the stands.
"WHAT IS HE DOING?!"
Jay entered what could only be described as his final form. "Aggro Style: Feet Don't Fail Me Now."
His leg whipped through the air in a brutal, perfectly timed motion, meeting the ball just as it dropped between him and Van De Berg.
The impact was clean.
The ball was struck mid-air in a bicycle kick motion, launching past the Ajax defence in a perfect arc that bent away from the keeper's reach. Ait, the Ajax goalkeeper, reacted instantly, diving full stretch across his line, fingertips straining toward the shot as it curved beyond him at the last possible moment.
"NO!" Ait screamed as he launched himself, arm fully extended, "I've got it!"
But it was already gone.
The net rippled.
For a fraction of a second, the stadium didn't react, then it exploded.
The entire PSV Eindhoven end detonated into chaos, flags shaking violently as the roar swallowed everything. Jay landed awkwardly, rolling once before pushing himself up, while Ryan sprinted toward him with a grin that looked almost feral.
Bos stood frozen near the edge of the box, staring at the ground like he was trying to process how quickly everything had slipped away.
"SUPER GOAL FROM JAY BUEKERS!!!!!"
Now I realise why Carlos sent us to Eindhoven. The raw amount of talent spread across the world is worth studying.