Chapter 161: Just Another Game

The sun was just beginning to rise over Valencia, casting a warm golden hue over the quiet streets as Komi’s car pulled into the parking lot of the Ciudad Deportiva de Paterna, Valencia’s training ground.

The faint hum of the engine ceased, leaving only the soft rustling of nearby trees and the chirping of early morning birds.

Komi glanced at her son in the passenger seat who was staring out of the window, his face set in quiet determination. She reached over and gently touched his hand.

"Why?" she asked, her voice warm but tinged with concern.

Izan shook his head, though his tightly gripped bag told another story. "Oh, nothing. Just… focused," he replied, his eyes not leaving the sprawling training facility ahead.

Komi smiled, proud of her son’s maturity. It wasn’t every day a 16-year-old carried the hopes of a team, let alone walked into the Wanda Metropolitano to face Atlético Madrid.

"You’ve got this," she said firmly. "Even your sister is excited. You’ve already beat them this season. You can do it again tonight"

Izan turned to her and nodded, the faintest hint of a smile breaking his focused expression. "I know, Mom. I’ll be fine. I’m just thinking about how many goals I’ll score tonight" Izan said cheekily.

Komi smiled at her son’s confidence and saw no need to continue with the conversation.

The parking lot began to stir with activity as other players arrived. Komi noticed a few of Izan’s teammates waving at him, their camaraderie evident even from a distance.

"All right, you better go," she said, reaching over to caress his face before tiptoeing to peck him on the forehead, a gesture that spoke of both love and habit.

Izan opened the door, stepping out into the crisp morning air. Before closing it, he leaned down, his eyes meeting his mother’s. "Thanks, Mom. For everything."

Komi’s heart swelled, but she kept her voice light. "Go on, starboy. Show them what you’re made of."

He grinned now, the seriousness melting away for a brief moment. "I will."

As Izan walked toward the entrance of the training ground, his confident stride catching the attention of a few onlookers, Komi stayed in the car for a moment longer.

She watched him disappear into the facility, a mix of pride and nerves swirling within her.

"Be safe, my boy," she murmured before starting the car and driving away, knowing her son was exactly where he was meant to be.

.....

The streets around the Mestalla Stadium buzzed with excitement as the Valencia team bus made its way through the familiar Valencia streets.

The glow of the floodlights illuminated the historic structure, casting long shadows over the throngs of fans waving orange and black flags.

This was more than a match; it was a showdown. The last time Valencia faced Atlético Madrid, they emerged triumphant in a thrilling 4-2 encounter, with their teenage sensation Izan delivering a performance for the ages.

Inside the bus, the players sat in quiet contemplation. Some scrolled through tactical notes, others stared out at the electrified crowd.

Izan, had his headphones on, drowning out the noise as he mentally prepared. His calm demeanour belied the storm of expectation swirling around him. He glanced at the imposing Mestalla as they neared, its stands already roaring in anticipation. This was his home, his stage.

"How are you feeling," Valencia’s captain, Jose Gaya asked leaning in. "They might have underestimated you last time but this time they’ll come at you with everything they’ve got. I hope you are ready since you’ve beaten them before"

Izan staring outside the window glanced at Gaya, "To be honest, this feels like any other match. The only difference is that their fans are loud".

Jose Gaya, hearing Izan’s words stared at the latter like he had seen something odd. Gaya shook his head while a smile tugged at his lips while he thought of Izan’s confidence.

The bus came to a halt, and as the players disembarked, they were greeted with deafening cheers from their fans.

Izan felt a hand on his shoulder—Valencia’s captain, again a reassuring presence. "It’s a big night, kid," he said.

"But it’s just football. Go out there and show them why they’re afraid of us." Izan nodded, his face set in quiet determination.

....

The air in the tunnel was thick with tension. Valencia’s players adjusted their gear, exchanged quick words, and focused on the task ahead.

Izan, standing near the entrance, caught sight of Rodrigo de Paul, Atlético Madrid’s rugged midfielder who was more of a defender.

De Paul walked up to him with a slow, deliberate stride, his towering frame exuding menace.

"So, you’re the star boy everyone’s talking about," he said, his voice low but edged with mockery as he pretended not to know Izan.

"You got lucky last time. Don’t think you’ll pull off those tricks here again. Tonight, you’re going to learn what it’s like to play against real men. And Valencia? You’ll all crumble."

Izan held his gaze, unflinching. "We’ll see," he replied, his voice steady. "The game hasn’t started yet. Let’s see what you can do out there."

De Paul smirked, but Izan could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. The Argentine walked away, and Izan turned back to his teammates, his resolve even stronger.

.....

The teams stepped out onto the hallowed turf of the Mestalla for their warmups.

The crowd erupted as Valencia’s players jogged onto the field, their energy feeding off the fans’ unyielding support.

Izan joined the drills, his movements fluid and precise. Every touch of the ball seemed to draw cheers from the stands, and the murmurs of admiration grew louder with each dazzling display of skill.

On the other side, Atlético Madrid’s players went through their paces, their movements calculated and intense.

De Paul kept a close eye on Izan, occasionally exchanging words with his teammates as if plotting how to contain the young star.

The floodlights bathed the stadium in bright light as both teams completed their drills. The players returned to their dressing rooms for final preparations, the noise from the stands reverberating through the concrete walls.

Valencia’s coach delivered his last pep talk, his voice firm and inspiring. "This is our home.

Our fans are with us. We’ve beaten them before, and we’ll do it again. Believe in yourselves. Play as a team. And remember—no fear."

The players nodded at Baraja’s words. The latter glanced at Izan with genuine concern as he debated if he had made the right decision by making Izan start this match.

"I hope that the referee has eyes at the very least," Baraja said as he nodded in Izan’s direction. Izan, fixing his shin guard looked up to find Baraja nodding at him and nodded back.

After a while, an official approached telling them to filter out of the room. After huddling a bit, the Valencia players came out, charged for the encounter.

The moment had arrived. The players lined up in the tunnel, their faces a mix of determination and focus.

The roar of the Mestalla grew louder as they stepped onto the pitch, the sound crashing over them like a wave.

Orange and black flags waved furiously in the stands, and the home crowd’s chants filled the night sky.

The commentator’s voice cut through the din, setting the stage for the eagerly anticipated clash.

"Welcome to the Mestalla, where Valencia and Atlético Madrid meet once again in what promises to be an electrifying encounter.

Let’s not forget their last meeting—a 4-2 victory for Valencia, with young Izan delivering a breathtaking performance: three goals and an assist.

Can the teenager replicate his magic tonight, or will Atlético find a way to silence him?

Well, we will have to wait and find out since your guess is as good as mine."

As the players stood in their position, the noise in the stadium reached a crescendo. Both sets of fans showed their spirits, engaging in a chanting war even before the game began.

After seeing both teams ready, the referee’s whistle signalled the start of the match, and both teams sprang into action.

Atlético Madrid began with their characteristic intensity, pressing high and challenging every Valencia pass.

The visitors clearly had a plan to impose themselves early, but Valencia held their ground.

From the touchline, Valencia’s coach gestured, urging his players to stay composed and capitalize on the counterattack.

Izan, marked closely by de Paul, drifted into pockets of space, seeking an opportunity to break free.

The commentator continued, "It’s clear that Atlético have come with a strategy to shut down Izan.

Rodrigo de Paul is shadowing him closely, but the youngster has shown he can thrive under pressure. What a battle this is shaping up to be."

Izan’s first touch of the ball drew a thunderous cheer from the home fans.

He turned sharply, leaving his marker trailing, and sent a precise pass to his teammate, igniting an attack. Atlético’s defenders scrambled to recover, their frustrations evident.

Moving with the ball, Izan felt his vision tumble as he was brought down by Rodrigo de Paul.

The Valencia fans in the stadium showed their dissatisfaction while Baraja showed his frustrations from the touchline.

The referee blew his whistle before letting Rodrigo de Paul off with a warning. The latter took it with a smile as he had been able to avoid an early yellow card.

The match was barely minutes old, but the intensity was already palpable.

Every tackle, every pass, every moment crackled with energy. This was football at its finest, and the Mestalla was alive with the spirit of the game.

A/n: Second of the day. Have fun