D-day was here.
[UEFA Champions League Round of 16:]
(Juventus vs Barcelona)
(Aggregate: 1-3)
(Venue: Allianz Stadium, Turin, Italy)
The sky above Turin was bruised purple with storm clouds and floodlights.
Inside the Allianz Stadium, the roar was biblical, straight out of those OG Pharoah and Egypt tales as white and black flags rippled like the sea in a storm, Barcelona being the red sea that the Turin crowd had to pass.
Banners of old heroes waved above a fevered crowd so loud their noise shook the stadium. The ho fans believed, no, they demanded a miracle tonight.
Despite being one of the biggest clubs with the most storied history in Italian football history, Juventus were yet to lift the UEFA Champions League trophy once.
Down 3–1 against Barcelona from the first leg, they had no choice but to bleed for redemption. They needed a miracle.
Barca started with their regular formation, Hansi Flick starting his best XI that he already finalized days ago in training.
As for Juventus, they started in 3-4-2-1 with Kelly, Gatti, and Kalulu in defense, while in midfield was the quadruple of Cabal, Weston McKennie, Locatelli, and Cambiaso. The 2 n behind the striker were Yildiz and Koopiners.
As for Juve's striker for the night, it was none other than Jonathan David.
In the tunnel, the walls humd with noise.
Samuel Moses stood with his teammates, calm amid the thunder as all the anxiety of last night was nowhere to be found, his heartbeat steady as a drum.
Across from him, Weston McKennie slapped Locatelli on the shoulder, barking words in Italian. The Bianconeri were snarling; they were hungry and feral.
Sam could literally feel the fighting spirit radiating from them, but his face stayed nonchalant in the face of it.
When the referee gave the nod, the two sides walked out into the furnace.
Imdiately, the noise jumped to a crescendo, hitting like a punch to the chest.
BOOM!
"This…!" Sam muttered under his breath with narrowed eyes, slightly taken aback, but then he smiled. "This is what the Champions League feels like!"
He grinned as he could feel his fighting spirit rising already.
The referee didn't waste ti. He checked his ti, and then…
FWEEE!
Imdiately from the whistle, fueled by the raw energy and noise being made by their fans, Juventus sward Barcelona.
They flew forward like wolves let loose on the hunt. Koopiners snapped into tackles, Locatelli pressed high, and Yildiz, the enigmatic winger, young and fearless buzzed around the half-spaces like a hornet.
Barcelona looked startled.
With ti, they would settle in, right?
Well, Juventus did not give them such leisure.
Barely six minutes in, Cambiaso won a duel on the right and slid the ball to Koopiners, who imdiately clipped a curling pass over Araujo.
Juventus's striker, Jonathan David slipped between the lines, ghosting in behind, and with one touch, buried the shot past García with venom.
1–0.
BOOM!
The Allianz Stadium exploded.
Smoke flares filled the skies, with flags waving in hurricane patterns as a thunder of voices saturated the stadium.
Barça players looked around, dazed.
Hansi Flick stood at the sideline, arms folded, still calm. He didn't panic, not yet, but his jaw tightened slightly.
Juventus weren't done though.
Fifteen minutes later, they struck again!
McKennie intercepted Pedri's pass and imdiately fed Yildiz on the left. The Turkish wonderkid weaved through Koundé like Weaver, the Demon of Fate himself. He feinted left, then right, and lashed a curling strike into the top corner.
Bam!
2–0.
3–3 on aggregate!
Just like that, Barcelona's advantage evaporated.
The stadium shook as if the Alps themselves had joined the celebration as Yildiz charged to the corner flag, celebrating like a mad man.
Sam was stupefied as he glanced at Yamal and Raphinha with wide eyes, disbelief painted across their faces.
'What's wrong with the defense?' Was the only thing ringing in his head.
For the first ti in months, Barcelona trailed in spirit.
But Sam was never one to give up.
By the 25th minute of the ga, Sam started dropping deeper, almost beside Pedri, demanding the ball. Every ti he got it, two black and white shirts closed him down. Brer and Gatti pressed so tight it was like being hunted in a cage.
But Sam didn't flinch.
He wasn't chasing the ball. He was feeling the rhythm, feeling Juventus's pattern and waiting for it to shift.
"Breathe," he whispered to himself, jogging backward. "One chance, just one chance, that's all we need".
The mont ca at the 38th minute.
Ronald Araujo won a clearance and launched it to Pedri. Pedri turned sharply, feeding Sam in the middle. Sam feinted left, dragged both McKennie and Gatti out of position, then released a perfectly tid through ball to Yamal.
The 19-year-old wonderkid took off.
Sam followed from behind, sprinting.
Yamal didn't stop. He sprinted down the right, ghosted past Cambiaso, then sliced inside like an eel. One, two, three defenders closed on him, but Lamine Yamal didn't hesitate.
BZZZ!
He danced between them in a blur of blue and red, slipping through before cutting onto his left foot and curling the ball into the top corner.
The goalkeeper dived, but his fingers didn't touch the ball.
GOAL!
2–1! 3–4 on aggregate!
For a mont, ti seed to freeze.
The stadium gasped; the Juventus bench froze.
Sam sprinted straight to Yamal, laughing with arms wide as he embraced him. "You sneaky little magician!"
Yamal grinned like a mischievous kid at Christmas, knowing fully well the gravity of what he just did. Barca were back in the lead.
The halfti whistle ca soon after as both teams trudged off.
The scoreboard burned.
[HALF-TI: JUVENTUS 2–1 BARCELONA (3–4 AGGREGATE)]
Juventus ca out with fire early on. Though Barcelona were yet to find their rhythm, a mont of individual brilliance made sure that they maintained their lead.
The montum was still on Juventus's favor as their fans sang loudly, but beneath the noise and beneath the smoke, there was a flicker of sothing dangerous inside Barcelona's veins… belief.
…
FC Barcelona locker room…
Steam hissed from showers, boots thudded against the floor, and exhaustion filled the air. Hansi Flick didn't raise his voice as he addressed his players.
He looked at them, his gaze alternating between Sam, Yamal, Gavi, Raphinha, and the others, each face still slick with sweat and nerves.
"You've all been here before," he said quietly. "You know what this is."
He pointed to the club crest stitched on his shirt.
"Barcelona was not built to crumble," he said. "We are not a team of survivors; we are the ones who make others suffer."
He walked slowly across the room, his presence filling it like a storm.
"They ca at us with fury and faith. Fine". He nodded. "There's nothing wrong with that, but now we remind them what football really is".
"We don't hide, we don't fear the noise. Instead, we beco the noise."
He turned to Sam. "You don't need to score, you just need to keep them scared and on their toes".
Sam grinned. "They already are".
Hansi Flick smiled faintly. "Good".
When the players walked back out, the energy had shifted.
The whistles from Juventus fans were louder, sharper, but beneath them, the sound of the Barcelona fans cut through, thousands of voices chanting one na over and over.
"SAMU!" "SAMU!" "SAMU!"
Nobody knew who started it, but from Sam, they now chanted Samu.
Sam looked up, his heart pounding.
A familiar voice was already sounding in his heart.
'WIN!' 'WIN!' 'WIN!'
He grinned. "Let's end this".
The second half awaited, and so did destiny.
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