The sun hung low over Valenciaâs training complex, casting long shadows across the pristine pitches.
With three games left in the season and Champions League football within reach, every touch, every sprint, and every tactical adjustment carried extra weight.
Rubén Baraja stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, watching his squad move through the drills.
The players, still riding the high of their 2-1 victory over Rayo Vallecano, knew that the challenge ahead would be even tougherâa trip to San SebastiĂĄn to face Real Sociedad, one of the trickiest away fixtures in La Liga.
Across the field, the session was in full swing.
Giorgi Mamardashvili, fresh off his heroics against Rayo, dived low to his right, palming away a fierce strike from Fran PĂ©rez.
On the other side, Hugo GuillamĂłn and Javi Guerra tested each other in tight midfield duels, while Gaya and Thierry Correia worked on overlapping runs.
Diego LĂłpez and Fran Perez exchanged sharp one-twos, the ball zipping between them before Sosa came out of nowhere and curled a shot toward the top cornerâonly for Mamardashvili to stretch out a glove and tip it over.
Baraja clapped his hands together. "Good tempo! Keep moving it fast! Sociedad wonât give us time on the ball!"
At the far end of the pitch, away from the main group, Izan finished a separate drill under the watchful eye of Luis Navarro, the teamâs head physiotherapist.
It had been weeks since his injury, and after rigorous rehab, he had finally been medically cleared to return to full training.
His passes were crisp, his movement sharp, but there was still a lingering hesitation in his stepâa subconscious fear of pushing too hard.
Navarro noticed.
"Izan, how does it feel?"
Izan wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Better. Not perfect, but better."
Navarro nodded, watching the teenager closely. "Youâre moving well, but youâre still holding back on quick changes of direction.
Thatâs natural. The real test is how you react when the pressure is real."
As Izan stretched his leg, he saw Baraja walking toward them.
The coach stopped in front of Navarro. "So? Is he ready?" he asked his eyes still set on Izan.
Navarro took a deep breath before responding. "Cleared to train fully, yes. Cleared to travel, yes. But should he play? No."
Baraja frowned. "Heâs that far off?"
"Not necessarily. Physically, heâs at 80%, but mentally, heâs not there yet. Itâs one thing to pass a fitness test; itâs another to be thrown into a high-intensity match away at Sociedad.
He needs more time. If it were another player, I wouldnât even risk clearing them but heâs different"
Baraja glanced at Izan. The teenager was listening but didnât say anything.
Ruben Baraja sighed, then turned back to Navarro. "Alright. Heâll travel with us. But no minutes unless itâs absolutely necessary. Agreed?"
Navarro nodded. "Agreed."
Izan exhaled through his nose, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He understood why Navarro was cautious, but he couldnât shake the feeling that he was ready.
Baraja clapped him on the back. "Be patient and recover well. You have all the time in the world to play."
As training continued, Izan returned to the main group, jogging into position beside Sosa, who gave him a knowing look.
"So, whatâs the verdict?" Sosa asked.
Izan rolled his eyes. "I can travel, but Iâm not supposed to play."
Sosa smirked. "Theyâre just being careful. You know how it is. But hey, at least you get to be there. You might not start, but who knows? Maybe weâll need a hero in the last ten minutes."
Izan chuckled, shaking his head. "That sounds like something out of a movie."
"Yeah, but football is better than movies."
[Um have you seen Braveheart]
With the session wrapping up, the players cooled down, stretching as Baraja gathered them in a circle.
"Listen up. We all know Sociedad Away is one of the toughest games in the league. They press high, they move the ball fast, and they donât give you space to breathe. But weâve fought too hard to let this slip now."
His voice carried the weight of a seasonâs worth of effort.
"We go there with one goalâwin, nothing more, nothing less. Because we control our fate. Not Bilbao. Not Sociedad. Us."
The players nodded, their focus sharpened.
Valenciaâs next battle was just days away. And even if Izan wasnât supposed to play, football had a way of writing unexpected scripts.
The day before the match, the news about Izanâs sudden return spread like wildfire.
@VCFOfficial: Izan has been medically cleared and will travel with the squad to San SebastiĂĄn.
The official account went into the detail but the first part was all Valencia fans needed to hear. Social media exploded.
@VCF_Forever: HEâS BACK. OUR GOLDEN BOY IS BACK.
@BlanquinegreFC: Perfect timing. This game decides everything. If Izan even steps on the pitch, weâre winning.
@LaLigaXtra: Real Sociedad vs. Valencia just got even bigger. Izan could make his return in a season-defining clash.
At the clubâs training ground, a small group of fans waited outside, chanting Izanâs name as the team boarded the bus for the airport.
As Izan stepped onto the bus, a young fan held up a sign: SIEMPRE CREEMOS EN TI, IZAN. (We always believe in you, Izan.)
He smiled and gave a small wave before taking his seat beside Sosa.
"You see that? They think Iâm about to do something special."
Sosa smirked. "Maybe you are."
The news didnât go unnoticed in the Basque Country. In San SebastiĂĄn, Real Sociedad fans were less enthusiastic.
@RealSociedadFans: Just our luck. Valenciaâs best player returns just in time.
@TxuriUrdinDaily: We should have known. La Liga scriptwriters working overtime again.
The Author too be doing the most on the side. Pray he doesnât make him come of the bench to score 4 goals in 1 minute at stoppage time.
At Sociedadâs Zubieta training complex, the players had just finished their final session when the whispers started.
MartĂn Zubimendi checked his phone and let out a low whistle. "Izanâs traveling."
Brais MĂ©ndez, stretching nearby, raised an eyebrow. "Didnât he just come back from injury? He wonât be match sharp."
Mikel Merino wasnât convinced. "Match sharp or not, heâs Izan. If he plays, we need to be ready."
The squad murmured in agreement.
Meanwhile, their manager, Imanol Alguacil, addressed the media.
"Valencia are a strong team, with or without Izan. We will play our game. But yes, we know his quality. If he plays, we will be prepared."
The headline in the local newspaper, El Diario Vasco, summed up the feeling among the home fans:
"IZAN RETURNS â A NEW CHALLENGE FOR LA REAL."
That night, in the Valencia team hotel, Izan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the anticipation in the air. He knew he wouldnât play but he hoped that Baraja would look his way.
...
The morning of the match, the Valencia squad gathered for their final meeting at the team hotel in San SebastiĂĄn. The atmosphere was intense but focused.
Baraja stood in front of them, hands in his pockets.
"Weâve fought too hard to let this slip now. Real Sociedad are strong at home, but we are stronger together."
His eyes scanned the room before settling on Izan. "And we have a full squad. That means everyone is ready."
Izan shifted slightly in his seat, feeling the weight of expectation. He wasnât even sure if heâd play, but the possibility alone had changed the mood.
After breakfast, the team boarded the bus to the stadium. Fans lined the streets, waving Valencia scarves, and chanting their names.
Izan had seen this before, but something about today felt different. His name was being sung louder than anyone elseâs.
Inside the away dressing room at the Reale Arena, Izan sat on the bench, taping his wrists when Luis Navarro approached him.
"Izan, listen," Navarro said quietly. "Youâve been cleared to travel, not to play."
Izan looked up. "But if Baraja calls on meâ"
Navarro sighed. "Then Iâll do my job and remind him why you shouldnât." He placed a firm hand on Izanâs shoulder.
"I know what you can do. But your body needs more time. One wrong move, and weâre back to square one."
Izan clenched his jaw, nodding. He understood. But that didnât mean he liked it.
Across the hall, Real Sociedadâs dressing room was buzzing.
Zubimendi zipped up his jersey, shaking his head. "Theyâre keeping it vague, but if Izanâs here, heâs at least on the bench."
Mikel Merino tied his boots tighter. "We canât focus on him alone. Valencia are dangerous with or without him."
Their coach, Imanol Alguacil, stepped in, his voice calm but firm.
"Izan or no Izan, we impose our game. No fear. No hesitation. They need this win, but so do we. Letâs show them what La Real is made of."
The team rose, a unified force.
Outside, the stadium roared to life. The match was moments away, and both teams were ready for war.